Wednesday, being the prep day for the feast, was supposed to be an uneventful day. Funny how that doesn't seem to work out.
The first hint of trouble at ten in the morning was the ping on my phone, followed by buzzing on my smart watch. After the dinner party, I had reset the smart watch to only alert for messages marked as urgent. Glancing at my wrist, I read the text from Francine:
Come to the guest rooms in the east wing. The scarlet room. Quickly.
I immediately abandoned my tasks, food lists and staff assignments scattered on my workspace. I had to resist the urge to sprint through the hallways, power-walking at a speed I wasn't quite sure I was capable of in heels. I made it to the east wing in half my usual walking time, breathing hard but maintaining poise.
Francine met me in the hallway, and I spied the Bowsby twins behind her standing guard at a specific door. Her porcelain skin was flush and she was fidgeting with agitation. "Thank god," she whispered, reaching for my hands. "It's Alice Mbaye. She's here and she's drunk."
I clasped her hands in mine, feeling them trembling. "What happened? When did she arrive?"
"Not fifteen minutes ago," she answered, eyes darting behind me to reassure herself we weren't being observed. "Her driver didn't even try to come in the gate. A gardener saw the car stop long enough for her to get out, then she screamed something at the driver, and he peeled away. She couldn't even walk straight. Gardener summoned security, and the twins answered. They brought her up here." She squeezed my hands meaningfully. "They thought you should see her first, before anyone else."
I craned my head around Francine's fiery curls to look at the twins questioningly. Peter nodded to me solemnly, and Paul tapped his fingertips to his forehead in a casual salute. "We knew you'd know what to do," Paul said simply.
"We appreciate what you're doing for Miss Elaine," his brother added.
"I didn't tell them, I swear," Francine whispered frantically. "They figured it out on their own."
I shook my head with a small smile. "You're absolutely certain you didn't drop any details when you were, how'd you say, 'shooting the shit?'"
"She didn't, ma'am," Peter insisted. "We only started suspecting when we realized Francine was always losing focus on our conversations when she was listening in on other people talking about Miss Elaine or the management staff."
"She thought we couldn't notice, but she's terrible at poker when she's trying to multitask," Paul said with a chuckle.
"We didn't ask her until Miss Mbaye got here," Peter continued. "She's rambling about Miss Elaine again. And we thought it might be good for you to talk to her."
I extracted my hands so I could squeeze Francine's shoulders, then hug her and rub her back. "You did the right thing," I said, to all three. "Thank you for messaging me. Please don't be frightened, gal, it's okay."
"I'm not frightened," Francine said, but she returned my hug tightly. "I'm angry. What piece of shit leaves a drunk woman on another family's doorstep without even a word? She's in terrible shape. Anything could have happened to her."
"I'm sure when Mr. Khatri hears what happened, he will have a word with her mother. Now, straighten yourself out." I backed up so I could tidy her uniform. "Go back to your tasks. The twins will stay here with me. I'll have them watch the door until things are calm, then I'll go explain to Mr. Khatri and Mr. Kumiega." I turned my attention to the twins as she rushed away. "Our story is, the gardener summoned you, and you were about to call Mr. Kumiega when you met me as I was coming outside for a walk to clear my head. I saw what state she was in and insisted you bring her to a bed. I then reached out to Mr. Kumiega, Mrs. Skylark, and Mr. Khatri myself as we started bringing her here. No further time will have passed. Agreed?"
They both nodded, and resumed their stoic posts at the door.
Taking a deep breath to steady my nerves, I straightened my back, lifted my chin, and reached for the doorknob.
Alice Mbaye's preferred guest suite was not entirely scarlet, but that was the dominant hue. The furniture was made from stained redheart wood, the wainscoting was cardinal paneling, and the curtains' woven geometric designs featured ruby, black, and gold. I found Alice draped over a black leather cabriole sofa, face buried in wine-red pillows.
"Miss Mbaye?" I approached cautiously.
She stirred and slowly pulled herself up by the back of the sofa until she was seated. I was grateful to see one of my loyal staff had pressed a water bottle to her hand, and it seemed she had sipped from it. It dropped to the floor with an unceremonious thunk as she let go to rub her face with her hands. Her cream turtleneck was half-tucked into crusty jeans. Her short hair had been styled into stunning palm colls some days ago, but was due for moisturizer or even a wash. When she finally lifted her gorgeous face so her eyes could meet mine, I was startled at how raw they were, red and bleary with shed tears.
I sat in the neighboring leather wingback chair. "Miss Mbaye, it's a three-hour flight from your home to ours, and a thirty-minute drive from the airpark. And it must take at least two hours to prepare a private flight."
"Did you come here to recite facts at me?" Her voice was less slurred than I was expecting, considering Francine's description. But there was no denying the smell of alcohol on her breath.
"I want to know what happened at approximately four in the morning to inspire you to fly out here the day before Thanksgiving."
She laughed, harsh and short, then groaned and held her head. She turned away from me and curled up against the back of the sofa. "That's a bit of an impertinent question from an upstart replacement staff member," she retorted. "Henri never questions me when I come."
"Maybe Henri should start." I observed her shoulders tense at my curt answer, but I pressed on. "Because a young lady doesn't leave home at four in the morning and fly straight to her oldest friend without calling ahead unless something is wrong."
"Oh shut up," she huffed, reaching for the water bottle. "Like any of this has any kind of impact on you. Just do your job."
