A surprised giggle escapes me. “How can that be?”

Crystal chews on her bottom lip; smears her lipstick to the corners of her mouth. “Are you thirsty?” she finally asks.

“Um...”

“I need a drink.” Crystal hurries to the kitchen.

I place the paper towels and cleaner on the floor beside the closet and follow on her heels. “Are you going to explain?”

Crystal ignores me as she gets out a glass, orange juice, and the champagne meant for tonight. She opens the champagne bottle with the fancy opener I’ve almost broken on multiple occasions and fills the glass mostly with champagne. She tops it off with the orange juice and down the drink in one gulp. She makes another and points at the ingredients.

“Are you sure you don’t want one?”

“My shift’s almost over.”

Crystal leans against the kitchen island. “Of course. Of course.”

The oven timer goes off, and I remove the pans. The food sizzles and smells wonderful. Of all Jenna’s faults, cooking doesn’t make the list. If I liked her better, I would ask Jenna for tips, and maybe a lesson or two.

“Ugh! Seeing that makes me so hungry.” Crystal sips her drink. “I didn’t eat on the plane. I can’t do it. It makes me sick.”

“Me, too.” I want to smack myself. She needs to get to the bottom of what is going on. “Back to—”

My cell phone rings. I groan and answer the call.

“We’re going to be late,” Jenna says.

“Oh, okay. Well, I have to—”

Crystal shakes her head. “No, keep me a secret,” she whispers.

“Yes?” Jenna demands.

“I...uh...just took the food out of the oven.”

Jenna sighs. “Let it cool, then put tinfoil over it. I’ll take care of it when I get home.”

“Okay.”

“Did you finish cleaning?”

“Yep.”

“Then go.” Jenna hangs up without my reply.

I place my cell phone on the counter. “Not even a thank you.”

Crystal snorts. “Sounds like my Jenna.”

“So, you know about Adam and Jenna?” The question churns my stomach, but I can’t beat around the bush anymore.

Crystal’s expression loses its merriment. “You know, I still can’t get that no one has told you.” She plays with the condensation on her glass. “I guess I should be happy, but...the last clueless housekeeper didn’t handle the news well.”

“So, your husband’s mistress lives with you. That’s not too odd.”

I lied. It’s one of the strangest arrangements I’ve heard of. I don’t see how all three of them can be happy under the same roof, but maybe the Kings didn’t get married for love, but for money reasons, so Crystal doesn’t mind him sleeping with someone else.

But why do they flaunt it? I wouldn’t want to make up a good portion of the town gossip as the Kings do. It can’t make life easy.

Crystal snickers. “She’s not his mistress.”

“But they’re sleeping together.” I found the evidence, sometimes in places that make me think Jenna planted the proof to rub it in my face.

“I wouldn’t expect them to stop just because I took a business trip.”

I rub my temples, tired of the circles Crystal makes. “You need to spit it out. I’m so confused.”

Crystal finishes her drink and puts the class on the island. “You’re right.” She breathes deep. “Adam and I are polyamorous, and Jenna is our girlfriend,” she says as she exhales.

I blink. “You’re all in a relationship together?”

“Yes...”

I process the information. Why didn’t I come to that conclusion before? It makes perfect sense and honestly isn’t that bad. I like it better than thinking the Kings live with Adam’s mistress.

“Do you still want to work here?”

The question draws me out of my thoughts. “Why wouldn’t I?

“It’s not exactly...conventional.” Crystal frowns. “A mockery of God, as some have put it.”

“Genocide and child slavery are mockeries of God, not being in a relationship with more than one person.”

“So, it doesn’t...disgust you?”

Even if it does, I won’t tell Mrs. Kings, and I won’t walk away from my job. “How I may feel won’t impact my work,” I tell Crystal. When Crystal frowns, I add, “But no, it doesn’t.”

Crystal’s smile dazzles, and I find I like it as much as Adam’s. How can they date a nagging sour-puss like Jenna? Sure, the woman looks pretty when she doesn’t yell or demean, and maybe her sex skills rival the best porn star alive, but that can’t be enough to keep Jenna around.

Mrs. Kings pours herself a glass of orange juice and repositions herself against the kitchen island. “Are you new to town?”

“Yeah, I moved here in June.”

“Where are you staying?”

“With family.”

“Anyone I know?”

“Mrs. Allen?”

Crystal’s eyes widen. “Veronica?”

Annoyance rears its head, but I hold it down as I say, “Yeah.”

“One moment.” Crystal puts her glass on the island and sprints out of the room. Thirty seconds later, she runs back into the kitchen and hands me a tiny jar of face cream with French words covering it. “Tell her ‘Thank you’ for the foot powder. I can actually stand to be around Adam now when he’s not wearing shoes.”

“Will do.” I pocket the cell phone. “I think I should head out now.”

“Yes, go. Enjoy the rest of your Wednesday.” Crystal flashes another perfect smile. “Nice to meet you!”

“Back at you.”

“See you tomorrow.”

“Certainly.”

***

I slam the front door, and on cue, Aunt Veronica speaks up. “You’re not too old for me to take a switch to your ass.”

My great aunt’s voice comes from my bathroom, and I go to her. Aunt Veronica bends over the washer, her top half inside the machine as she roots around for the clothes at the bottom. She doesn’t glance at me as she asks, “Do you need a reminder of how to act when you’re in my house?”

“I have something for you.”

Aunt Veronica shimmies out of the washer, damp socks in her hands. She drops them in the full laundry basket at her feet before she turns to me. “Well?”

I produce the face cream. “Mrs. Kings says, ‘Thank you for the foot powder.’ She can put up with her husband now.”

Aunt Veronica looks at the jar then at me. “So, you know now?”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Does it really matter?”

“Yes! I looked like an idiot today.” I shake my head. “You should have given me a warning.”

“The Kings don’t need me talking about their business. They’ve put up with that bullshit ever since they moved here, and it hasn’t let up for six years.” Aunt Veronica scowls. “Everyone in this damn town has their own problems, but no, they have to concern themselves with people who only want to live and be left alone.”

I think of Darla. “Well, not everyone...”

My great aunt nods as if she read my thoughts. “No, a few decent people exist.” She regards me. “You still their housekeeper?”

I hold Aunt Veronica’s gaze. “As long as they’ll have me.”

“Good.” My great aunt plucks the face cream from my hand and points at the laundry basket. “Hang this up, will you? My shows are about to start.”

 I groan but do as asked.