Chapter 7 A Member Of This Household

Sarah POV The housekeeper seemed stunned by this. “Do you understand, Ms. Liesel? Sarah is a member of this household, and her duties have nothing to do with yours or those of the servants under you.” “Yes, Alpha Zane.” Even as a human, I could hear the resentment in her voice. Zane looked at her. “It seems you do not understand.” He pointed at the bucket. “Clean that up and do whatever demeaning chore you had in mind for the children’s nanny. Then inform Mr. Elliot that he is to take over your role as housekeeper. You can return to being an upstairs maid under Miss Eustace.” “Alpha Zane?” He let an ominous moment pass. “You heard me. What I want to know is whether you understand me now.” Her brown eyes looked down. “Yes, Alpha Zane.” “Good.” He looked at me with a smile that looked quite natural and unforced, though I could tell he was still angry. “Shall we have breakfast with the girls?” he asked me. “She has to have coffee first!” Chloe blurted out. “Cream, no sugar!” I laughed, and Mr. Cavendish unbent himself enough to smile. “Well,” he told Chloe, “we’ll have to get her some.” I did Ms. Liesel the courtesy of not looking back at her as I walked, somewhat encumbered by two clinging girls, out of the garage with Mr. Cavendish. There was indeed coffee in the kitchen. I asked Mr. Cavendish if he wanted Grace to dress before breakfast. He sent his daughter a somewhat knowing look. “Do you usually make Chloe dress first?” he asked me. “No!” the little imp said, crossing her arms. “Breakfast is an important part of the morning!” “So it is.” He smiled at Grace. “Breakfast in pajamas, then.” Grace beamed while her father poured himself a cup of coffee and explained I would be taking both girls to Pride Academy for the day. Then he left the kitchen. I supposed he was going to his study. As I got breakfast together for the girls with apple juice, granola cereal with organic milk, and little cups of Greek yogurt, I mulled over the scene in the garage. The housekeeper’s scorn hadn’t surprised me, but Mr. Cavendish’s actions had. I’d had no intention of cleaning that floor whether he (once again) had come to my rescue or not, but it certainly made things more comfortable for me to have my position so definitively established. Of course, Ms. Liesel would hate me for watching as she was demoted, but we were never going to be friends, were we? It struck me that “Alpha Zane” should feel even more disdain for humans than “Miss Beta-in-Charge,” but I suppose he had the luxury of never feeling his place could be threatened. A housekeeper who could become an upstairs maid in the snap of the fingers would be more protective of her position than an alpha born to be in command. When the children were done and I had two cups of coffee (with cream) and some toast with jam in my stomach, I took the children upstairs, dropped Chloe off in my room, and then followed Grace to hers. She assured me she needed no help dressing, just some help with her hair. I asked her to join me and Chloe when she was ready. In plenty of time for school, the girls were ready: clothes clean, hair brushed (and for Grace back in a ponytail), and backpacks filled with school supplies including a healthy snack. Chloe was excited about going to Pride Academy. When I asked if she were going to miss any of her friends at her old school, she shrugged and said she’d still see them at the park and “around,” which I supposed was true enough. After a brief inspection by Mr. Cavendish, with a forehead kiss for Grace and a tentative hug for Chloe, I bundled the children into the car where Ollie was already at the wheel. Mr. Cavendish, to my surprise, accompanied us in the passenger seat. Pride Academy was only a couple of miles away, and I had to admit it certainly looked fancy with its iron gates and red brick. Grace and Chloe were already giggling and whispering as we left the car. At the entrance, Chloe hugged me tightly, and then took Grace by the hand. They walked in together. Watching their small figures disappear into the school, their gaits so similar and their heads leaning slightly together, I felt tears spill out of my eyes. I was so very happy that Chloe had found her real family, but I also knew it meant my days with her were doubtlessly numbered. Mr. Cavendish wouldn’t want a human looking after his children forever, and my legal status as Chloe’s mother wasn’t worth a feather compared to his authority in the pack. There was suddenly a handkerchief in front of me, and I took it without thinking. “Wipe your tears before the girls see,” he said somewhat coldly. I dabbed my nose and wiped my cheeks and eyes with the silver-black square, thinking the handkerchief matched its owner: expensive and unexpressive. “I’ll wash this and get it back to you,” I said, putting it in my purse. “That’s not necessary. Just put it in with your clothes.” What a poor, unsophisticated creature I must seem to him, I thought, embarrassed to be worrying over things he couldn’t care less about. The thought was also oddly depressing. We returned to what I learned was properly called “the villa,” where I spent some time just getting the layout of the rooms and hallways down. I saw many servants, some of whom nodded to me with surprising respect and some who nodded with ill-concealed derision and some who just ignored me. I wasn’t sure which bothered me less. After that, I returned to a super-clean room and realized I had hours on my hands with nothing to do until the girls needed to be picked up from school. I was tempted to take a nap, but then I got to thinking about those two little girls walking through the gates of a grand werewolf prep school. For how much longer would I be allowed in Chloe’s life? And what about Grace? I already loved the cute, quiet child. Would they forget all about me in time? Well, that settled it. I would have to make Chloe something to remember me by. Her birthday was just a few days away, and this might be my last chance to give her a birthday present. I went to a small trunk I’d had one of the betas set up at the foot of my bed and opened it. This was my fabric collection. A small chest inside the trunk held my embroidery threads. Yes, I decided as I started selecting the pieces I wanted. Time was a little tight, but I had enough to make a headband for Chloe and one for Grace as well, though not an identical one. Chloe’s would sparkle and shine, and Grace’s would be a tribute to spring in floral hues. Soon enough, I was on the floor surrounded by little scraps of expensive fabrics bought at a discount as odds and ends. I chose a stretchy silver lame as the base for Chloe’s headband and a pleated green on elastic for Grace. Then I started to cut out little stars and long strips to make roses. “Are you mending something?” the all-too-familiar voice asked me, making me start slightly. I looked up to see Mr. Cavendish standing in the doorway. “You can give that to the linen maid. Or, well, if it’s for Chloe I will be more than happy to buy a replacement. In fact, I should give you a charge card for her and Grace so you can buy them what they need when you go out shopping with them.” I almost laughed in delight at having a card to spend on Chloe at will, but I also felt more than a little bitter that someone wealthy and powerful would assume whatever “little chore” I was doing was so trivial. I managed a smile and explained they were gift headbands. “Oh, apologies for the misunderstanding,” he said, and it sounded unexpectedly sincere. “That sounds lovely, something a mother would do for her children. I’m most grateful Grace is to get one too.” He walked a little further into the room, making me crane my neck to meet his eyes. “May I see them?” “Well, I’ve only just started on them,” I said, standing up quickly and then feeling a little dizzy. I realized it was almost two o’clock and I hadn’t had any lunch. A warm hand cupped my left elbow. “All you all right?” he asked, and I looked up into his blue wolf eyes to see real concern. My stomach felt a little warm. His phone rang. With a calm smile, he took his hand from my arm and looked at the screen. Frowning, he swiped the screen and held the phone to his ear. “Yes?” He listened then a moment before looking thunderous. “What did you say? No. No, we’ll be right there.” “What?” I asked in alarm. “Chloe and Grace are in the principal’s office,” he said darkly. “They’ve been caught fighting.”