Fi and Beatrice
Breakfast. Fi awoke. In a large, firm-mattressed bed, with but one pillow. She was covered only with a sheet because the room was kept very warm. Despite, or because of, the warmth, she had slept many hours, oblivious to anything else in the house.
But hunger woke her. A creature of habit, she enjoyed her breakfasts, and today, she sensed she had missed her usual time by many hours.
Somehow, Beatrice had divined that she was awake, just as the thought 'breakfast' came to Fi. There was a soft knocking on her bedroom door.
"Miss, if you like, I can make you breakfast."
"Breakfast." Fi's eyes were now opened wide. Though very slim, Fi was not afraid of food. She was active enough that she stayed very lean. She threw aside the sheet, glad for the soft loungewear that Beatrice had laid out the night before (it was early morning, then wasn't it?)
Fi rarely slept naked, but the loungewear served well, instead of the slip she normally slept in.
"Just a sec, Beatrice." Fi's feet found the slippers that were at the foot of the bed, and put on a lovely robe that she also found there.
Opening the door, she greeted Beatrice.
For the first time really, Fi was able to take stock of Beatrice, a woman of perhaps forty, short at five-feet tall, solid but not fat. Her uniform hinted at wide hips, a narrow waist, and generous, motherly breasts. Her squared shoulders, and short meaty hands exuded a gentle strength.
Her face, though on the plain side of pretty, wore an angelic smile. Funny, Fi remembered a professor at uni who cautioned her not to anthropomorphize angels. They were NOT human, definitely another species and god's messengers and assassins.
What was Beatrice then? Helper of Edna? Or merely a servant.
These complicated thoughts were pushed aside...BREAKFAST!
Beatrice stood there patiently, waiting for Fi to...realize she had been daydreaming.
"Yes, Beatrice, I would LOVE breakfast. But I have only my night clothes to wear."
Beatrice laughed. "It will just be you and I, together in the kitchen. Mrs. Dulles and Mr. Robert left early, and picked up food on the way to work."
"Work, oh my...does Edna...I mean, Mrs. Dulles...expect me, soon?"
"Do not worry, Miss Fi. You can call Mrs. Dulles whatever she allows. I prefer to keep a professional distance from my employers. But Mrs. Dulles, she sees you as something different."
In her new robe, loungewear, and slippers, Fi followed Beatrice to the kitchen. Not a fancy kitchen by modern standards, it was state-of-the-art design in 1970. All the appliances were clean and running, but no giant stainless fridge or restaurant-grade stove.
An old-fashioned, enameled, steel-topped table was the breakfast table.
Beatrice had brewed coffee, apparently not thinking there was any alternative for a breakfast beverage. But, she did ask for Fi's preference for food.
"Toast and eggs is fine for me, Beatrice."
Again, Beatrice assumed the toast would be buttered, but did ask what jellies or jams Fi preferred. The eggs were scrambled which was fine.
"Oh, Miss Fi..."
"Just Fi is okay, Beatrice...really."
"Again, Miss Fi...I prefer less familiarity."
"But, I call you Beatrice."
"And that is, as it should be."
"What do you mean?"
"Upstairs always uses first names with downstairs, but never the reverse."
"That's the nineteenth century."
"That is ME, and how I relate to my employers. Familiarity...can be...dangerous."
"Is that from personal experience?"
