Mistletoe and Mayhem Read Online Free PDF Page B

also appears to be far too intelligent to be a maintenance man.”
    Cecily concentrated on pouring steaming brown liquid into the delicate china cups. It wasn’t her place to repeat Clive’s history of the alcohol addiction that had cost him not only a teaching career, but his marriage as well. “He seems happy enough working here. I don’t question his motives.”
    “I sense something in his past. Something that causes him great pain and guilt.”
    Knowing Madeline’s uncanny knack of seeing into people’s minds, Cecily concentrated on placing the cup and saucer in front of her friend. “Well, if so, he appears to have laid his ghosts to rest. He’s an excellent maintenance man and that’s all I ask.”
    “He’s certainly strong enough for any task you may give him.” Madeline rolled her eyes. “Those muscles are quite impressive.”
    Aghast, Cecily stared at her. “Madeline! Let us not forget you are a married woman and a mother.”
    Madeline’s lyrical laugh rang out. “I’m teasing you, Cecily. Forgive me. I was trying to lighten your mood. This is not the time, I know. You’re upset about your footman, and rightly so, but try not to worry for now. Wait and see what Kevin has to say.” She lowered Angelina to the carpet and laid her on her back. “Let us eat breakfast. It will make you feel better.”
    She sniffed with an appreciative air. “I’m starving, and this food smells delightful. There’s nothing like the smell of bacon and sausage to torment the appetite. It’s not my usual fare for breakfast but I’m willing to indulge myself once in a while.”
    Cecily wasn’t at all sure she could eat anything. In spite of Madeline’s apparent lack of concern, Cecily couldn’t help worrying that the curse was upon them again. The Pennyfoot Christmas curse, which always brought death, and always by someone’s hand.
    All she could do for now was wait for Kevin Prestwick’s verdict and pray that this time would be different.
     
    Pansy’s hand trembled when she lifted it to knock on J. Mortimer’s door. The shock of hearing about poor Charlie’s death had made her feel sick, and she was in no shape to face the sinister Mr. Mortimer. Indeed, she was sorely tempted to place the tray on the floor and knock on the door, then run down the stairs before the spooky old gentleman could open it.
    The fear of reprisals should Mr. Mortimer complain, however, kept one hand lifted in the air while she balanced the tray on her knee with the other. She would count to ten, she decided, then rap on the door with her clenched knuckles. One, two, three…
    The door opened without warning, sending her off balance. Uttering a shrill shriek, Pansy clutched the tray. The poached eggs started to slide off their bed of toast, and she had to jiggle them to get them back in place.
    “Good heavens, girl! Do you have to make that unearthly noise?” The tray was snatched from her hands and the door slammed in her face before she even had time to draw breath and apologize.
    Grumbling to herself, she fled down the stairs. Next time someone else could take up the tray to room nine. If Ellie had been there like she was supposed to be then she would have taken up the ogre’s tray.
    Pansy stomped down the last few steps, deciding that the very next time she saw Ellie she’d give her a piece of her mind for making her do twice the work.
    She was about to cross the lobby to the kitchen stairs when she heard a soft whistle over by the front entrance. Pausing, she saw the face of a young man peering around the door, smiling at her.
    It was a nice face, with twinkly blue eyes and a cheeky grin. A hand appeared next to the face, with a beckoning finger. “Here! Come over here.”
    Pansy hesitated. She’d seen the young lad on the roof earlier, when she’d gone out to fill the coal bucket. He’d whistled at her, the sort of whistle that made her blush. She’d given him a wave of her hand before going back into the kitchen, and