Jenna opens the refrigerator. “Both trays are in here, all set to go. All you need to do is pop them in the oven once it's ready. Then put on the timer for forty-five minutes. Got that?”

I nod but make a show of writing it down in the small notepad I’ve taken to carrying around with me. It helps to get Jenna off my back a little. Whenever Mrs. Kings accuses me of not following her orders, I shove physical proof of Jenna’s words in her face. Jenna always tries to find a way around the presented truth but only manages to do so a quarter of the time.

Jenna shuts the refrigerator door. She moves to the dining room where I set the table for that night’s dinner party; three placemats. I prepare myself for Jenna to complain, but she doesn’t. Mrs. Kings studies the arrangement before turning her attention to the floor. She frowns.

“When did you last vacuum in here?”

“Monday. You told me not to worry about it yesterday.”

“Well, do it while the food cooks.”

“Yes, Ms. Jenna.”

Jenna’s gaze grows unfocused. “Are the bathrooms good?”

“Yes.”

“The master bedroom?”

An urge to smack Jenna grips me. Just that morning the two of us spent three hours cleaning every nook and cranny. Why Jenna has taken the sudden intense interest in her bedroom, I can’t say, but I don’t like the change.

Since I came back to work on Monday, both Jenna and Adam have acted strangely. They’ve both become too attentive to details. I figure this is their way of trying to show they can make their relationship work, but I wish they found another avenue.

“I can’t do anything more in there,” I tell Mrs. Kings.

Jenna picks at her lip for a second. “Okay.”

Adam steps into the room. He dangles his car keys. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah,” Jenna says, and approaches him. She links her arm with his, and they both look pleased with the other’s company for the first time since the start of my employment.

Adam smiles at me. “You did a good job.”

“Thank you.”

Jenna shakes her head. “Yes, yes.” She steers Adam out of the room. “Oh, we should be home by the time the food finishes cooking,” she yells over her shoulder.

I don’t respond and wait until their car leaves the driveway before I move from the dining room. I take out my cell phone, plug into it the earbuds I keep hidden in my pocket and turn on the phone’s music player. Nineties alt-rock invades my ears, and I return to work.

I pop the premade chicken and vegetable dinner and apple pie into the oven, put on the timer, and check the kitchen for a stray dish or smudged appliance. Tonight, the house has to gleam, and though the Kings haven’t told me why, I assume they’re entertaining one of their bosses. Though, if so, why does Jenna care so much about how her bedroom looks?

Maybe the Kings swap wives with the visiting boss.

I gag as I picture Jenna with a wrinkle-y old man and will the thought away. I don’t need my sleep plagued by nightmares.

Once sure of the kitchen’s pristine condition, I tackle the dining room floor. I keep my eye on the big clock hanging on the wall opposite the cabinet as I vacuum. Though I work better with music, Jenna doesn’t agree. If Mrs. Kings catches me again, I’ll lose my job.

More than anything, it seems Jenna hates her underlings listening to something other than her commands.

Vacuuming takes longer than I like, but I don’t want to leave a speck of dirt for Jenna to find and flip out about. As I wind up the vacuum cord, I glance toward the windows that offer an excellent view of the tennis court and spot a smear. I shake my head. How did Jenna manage to miss that in her inspection? Maybe God is on my side today.

I return the vacuum to the cleaning-supply closet and collect paper towels and the ‘organic’ surface cleaner Jenna buys at a specialty store in town. I sing along to Tonic’s “If You Could Only See” as I turn away from the closet, and almost run into a tall, black-haired woman. I yelp and jump back; bump against the closet door. The force knocks the paper towels from my hands and the left earbud from my ear.

The woman covers her dainty mouth with the back of her hand. “I’m so sorry!” Her low voice has an attractive drawl like Adam’s. “I thought you heard me. I called when I got inside.”

My chest heaves as I pick up the paper towels. “I was...” I yank out my other earbud and shoves the headphones into the pocket with my cell phone. “Um...”

The woman shrugs. “I don’t care.” She smiles. “It sounded like awesome tunes. Tonic, right?”

“Yeah.”

“I loved them in high school.” Her grin widens. “I even went to see them in concert.”

“Awesome.”

I really want to ask who the hell the woman is. Adam always locks the door when he leaves, so the stranger has to have a key, or at least know where the Kings hide their spare one. Do the Kings expect her? Can she be who they planned the dinner for? If so, why didn’t they tell her to show up when they were home?

The woman unwinds the thin yellow scarf she wears and tosses it on the floor. Then she squeaks and retrieves it. “You’re the new housekeeper?”

“Yeah.”

“Again, I’m sorry. It looks great in here, and then I come in and slob all over the place.” She sighs. “Some first meeting this is.”

“No, it’s...uh...” My mind jumps to Jenna. “I’ve had worse ones.”

The woman chuckles. “Me, too. You’d think I wouldn’t in my line of work, but CEOs are just as awkward as everyone else.”

I study the woman harder. Can she be one of the Kings’ bosses? If so, why does she feel so comfortable dropping her clothing on the floor? Are the Kings best friends with this boss?

A vague thought drifts into my conscience. Maybe the woman feels so comfortable in the house because it’s hers. Is she related to one of the Kings?

The woman stands taller than Jenna, and just under Adam’s impressive height. Both Jenna and the woman share a similar peach complexion, though this woman’s skin tone seems natural while Jenna struggles to keep her skin tinted. Mrs. Kings and the woman have round faces, though the woman’s cheekbones protrude more, and she has a cleft chin while Jenna’s is pointed. But their noses hold no resemblances. Jenna’s looks almost snout-like, the way it upturns. The woman’s nose is thin and slopes downward.

Maybe the woman is Jenna’s distant, very distant, cousin. Yet I won’t bet money on it.

“Who are you?” I blurt, unable to contain my curiosity further.

“Crystal,” the woman responds like it should be obvious. She holds out a hand. “What’s your name?”

I give Crystal’s fingers a light squeeze. “Whitney.”

“I’m so glad you’re here. We’ve needed a housekeeper forever. With the schedules we keep, we just can’t do it ourselves.”

“Yeah.” I scramble to find the words to ask Crystal her relationship with the Kings without sounding nosey, or stupid.

Crystal examines the table and glances around. “Is anyone home?”

“No, the Kings are out right now.”

Crystal’s right eyebrow hikes up her wide forehead. “The Kings?”

“Yes.” I watch Crystal. She must know who lives here. So, why does she seem confused? “Mrs. Kings said they’ll be back shortly.

Crystal smiles. “You’re kidding me, right?”

I shake my head.

Crystal’s grin disappears. “Do you not know?”

“What?”

“I can’t believe you don’t.”

“What?”

“I’m Mrs. Kings.”