I'd been ready to teach both Georgette and Cora a lesson. But Georgette threw herself into begging, one plea after another:
"Miss Henson, I swear, it will never happen again."
"I'll set Cora straight today. I won't let her come here anymore."
"Please, after all the years I spent taking care of your parents, forgive me this once."
I looked at her, hunched and pitiful, and sighed. "Forget it."
"I'm not pressing charges."
After the police left, Georgette let out a long breath of relief, thanking me so profusely it bordered on groveling.
From that day on, Cora really did stop coming to the house. Georgette kept working just as diligently as before, keeping every room spotless.
The only problem was that things kept going missing.
A bottle of wine one day. A set of silverware the next. A designer dress the day after that.
Every time I asked, Georgette had an excuse ready:
"I'm so sorry, Miss Henson. I accidentally knocked that bottle of wine over while I was cleaning."
"Miss, that dinnerware set was so old. I noticed cracks when I was washing it and worried it might cut you, so I went ahead and threw it out."
"Miss, I took that outfit to the dry cleaner's, and they ended up losing it."
Every excuse sounded a little thin, but Georgette's attitude was always apologetic enough that I let it slide.
I figured that was the end of it.
Until Memorial Day.
After visiting my parents' graves, I decided to drive out to the countryside estate they'd lived in for most of their lives and give it a proper cleaning.
It was their favorite place in the world. The garden was full of flowers my mother had cherished, and every room held souvenirs my father had brought back from his travels around the globe. Before she passed, my mother held my hand and told me that house was the work of her and my father's entire lifetime. She made me promise to take care of it.
I treasured that estate more than anything. Even though being there made my chest ache with memories, I still went back regularly after moving out on my own. I'd wipe down every piece of furniture by hand, trim the flowers and hedges in the garden. Every visit, without fail.
But this time, when I pulled up to the front gate, I froze.
The gate, which I always kept locked, was standing wide open.
From inside the estate came the muffled thud of music cranked to full volume and the raucous sound of laughter.