The Housemaid Is Watching (THE HOUSEMAID #3) by Freida McFadden EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Freida McFadden
- Language: English
- Genre: contemporary romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 4.5 MB
- Price: Free
MILLIE
Three Months Earlier
I love this house.
I love everything about this house. I love the giant front lawn and the
even more giant back lawn (even though both are edging toward brown). I
love the fact that the living room is so big that multiple pieces of furniture
fit inside rather than just one small sofa and a television set. I love the
picture windows overlooking the neighborhood, which I recently read in a
magazine is one of the best towns to raise a child.
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And most of all, I love that it’s mine. Number 14 Locust Street is all
mine. Well, okay, thirty years of mortgage payments and it will be all mine.
I can’t stop thinking about how lucky I am as I run my fingers along the
wall of our new living room, bringing my face closer to admire the brandnew floral wallpaper.
“Mom is kissing the house again!” a voice squeals from behind me.
I quickly back away from the wall, although it’s not like my nine-yearold son caught me with a secret lover. I have no shame about my love for
this house. I want to shout about it from the rooftop. (We have an amazing
rooftop. I love this house.)
“Shouldn’t you be unpacking?” I say.
Nico’s boxes and furniture have all been deposited in his bedroom, so
he should be unpacking, but instead he is repeatedly throwing a baseball
against the wall—my beautiful, floral wallpapered wall—and then catching
it. We have lived in this house for less than five minutes, and he is already
determined to destroy it. I can see it in his dark brown eyes.
It’s not that I don’t love my son more than the world. If it was one of
those hypothetical situations where I had to choose between Nico’s life and
this house, of course I would choose Nico. No question.
But I’m just saying, if he does anything to harm this house, he is going
to be grounded until he’s old enough to shave.
“I’ll unpack tomorrow,” Nico says. His general life philosophy seems to
be that everything will be done tomorrow.
“Or now?” I suggest.
Nico throws the ball in the air, and it just barely grazes the ceiling. If we
had absolutely anything valuable in this house, I would be having a heart
attack right now. “Later,” he insists.
Meaning never.
I peer up the stairwell of the house. Yes, we have stairs! Honest-togoodness stairs. Yes, they creak with every single step, and there’s a chance
if you hold on to the banister too tightly, it might fall off. But we have
stairs, and they lead to an entirely different floor of the house.
You can tell I have lived in New York City far too long. I was hesitant to
come back to Long Island after what happened last time I lived here, but
that was nearly two decades ago—the distant past.
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