Prodigal Daughter
Copyright© 2025 by DB86
Chapter 12
“Geez, this house is dusty. You should get someone in here to clean it.”
Marshall laughed. For a long second, he really thought Elise was joking—a cute, little witticism that fit perfectly with her sense of humor. But, as she continued to survey his living room, he realized she was completely serious. Which confirmed that he was out of his mind to think this could ever work.
“That’s why I hired you, Elise. To clean the house and keep an eye on Justin.”
He watched her eyes go wide with astonishment.
“But I thought you said housekeeping. I’m positive that’s what you said.”
Suddenly, he wanted to laugh.
“I did. What did you think housekeeping meant? It means cleaning the house.”
Justin had scampered off to his room, so then they were alone in the living room.
Elise clutched her purse, her eyes narrowed, her head tilted like she wasn’t quite processing what he’d said.
“I thought you meant I’d be your housekeeper. And a housekeeper’s job is to hire the people who do the gross stuff. The housekeeper doesn’t do the gross stuff.”
Marshall did laugh. Elise looked so genuinely confused—and so ridiculously sexy standing there in her fancy striped top and spotless white pencil pants—he couldn’t help but tease her.
“Princess, maybe that’s what a housekeeper does in whatever palace you used to live in, but here in Middletown, a housekeeper cleans the house. Including the toilets.”
“Oh my God,” she said, her cheeks draining white beneath her tan. “You want me to clean the toilets?”
“Well ... there’s three of them.”
“But you ... use the toilet!”
He grinned.
“That’s kind of the reason it gets dirty. We use it.”
Then he noticed her swaying a little. She looked like she might faint, throw up, or bolt for the door.
“Are you okay?”
“No. I’m seeing bright spots, and the room keeps fading in and out.”
She clutched her bag like it was the only thing keeping her upright.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I was kidding, Elise.”
He reached out and grabbed her forearms before she could hit the carpet.
“I don’t expect you to clean the toilets. Just dust, vacuum, wash the dishes. That sort of thing. Light housekeeping.”
She took a deep, shuddering breath.
“Okay. Dust, vacuum, dishes. I can do that. And I would have cleaned the toilets. That’s not what made me dizzy.” She lifted her chin stubbornly. “I didn’t eat lunch ... or breakfast, now that I think of it. Don’t worry, I’m not going to faint ... I think.”
“Why haven’t you eaten anything?”
“Long shower ... rushed to the mall ... got fired. You get the picture.”
She dropped her purse onto the coffee table.
“Okay, so where’s a rag or something? I’ll dust this room, then I’m going to check out Justin’s room. He and I can hang while I play Cinderella. Bring on the dirt!”
Her cheeks were still a bit pale, and Marshall had a sudden sinking feeling—she hadn’t skipped meals because she was forgetful—she probably didn’t have the money.
Only he suspected she’d never admit it.
“Are you trying to impress me?” he asked gently. “I’ll make you a sandwich first. Then I’ll give you the grand tour. You like ham?”
Sandwiches were probably all he could manage on short notice.
“Sure.”
A few minutes later, he set a plate in front of her with a towering BLT and a glass of milk. Elise ate slowly, taking small bites, sipping the milk, and chatting with him and Justin.
When she finished her snack, Marshall went to the coat closet near the front door and pulled out a blue milk crate filled with cleaning supplies.
“Here.” He plunked it at her feet. “Rags, furniture polish, Windex, paper towels. The vacuum’s in the hall closet. It shouldn’t take more than an hour a day to keep the house picked up—I really want your focus to be on Justin.”
Things were going well, for the most part. But it gnawed at him that Justin still seemed to think this arrangement was temporary. He wouldn’t unpack his clothes into the dresser and had no interest in meeting other kids. It was probably unrealistic to expect him to settle in quickly—after all, he’d never met Marshall before moving in. But damn it, he wanted it to be that way.
Justin spent long stretches of time alone in his room. It made Marshall nervous, like maybe his son didn’t want to be with him. Like, maybe, he wasn’t happy with him.
He wanted his son to love him. He wanted Justin to run into his arms—not from fear, but from joy. He wanted to turn back time and be there from day one, give him a proper home, with a family who actually cared.
Instead, he was giving him Elise Olson for a nanny.
God help them all.
Elise was crouched beside the crate, examining each bottle and reading the labels.
“Okay... ‘Hold twelve inches from surface and spray for three seconds. Wipe with cloth. Repeat as necessary.’ Got it.”
Elise’s mother had always hired someone to clean the house. Her father had worked long hours to pay for her whims. Elise had never really done chores—except for the occasional Saturday, when her dad had asked her to help with yard work. The more she thought about it, the more she realized her mother had been a lousy wife.
Marshall shook his head, half-amused, half-horrified. There was no way he was letting her near the laundry. There were no printed instructions on how to separate whites from darks.
He didn’t think he could stand by and watch her fumble through dusting, either. It would either make him laugh—which would insult her—or he’d end up grabbing the rag and doing it himself. Not that he was some kind of domestic god. He’d let the place go a bit since Justin moved in, preferring to spend his time with him. But still—he could handle basic cleaning.
He was starting to have serious doubts he’d get his money’s worth out of this.
Elise looked up at him, smiled, and said, “You can go play with your cows now, Mr. Farmer. Everything’s under control.”
That was debatable—especially when she pushed the button and unleashed a three-foot vapor cloud of furniture polish toward the coffee table. Some landed on the table. The rest misted over the couch and the carpet.
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