When I was brought into my new shared bedroom, my husband stood by the side to take a call, so I browsed around. Across from the door was the bed, which had the same layout as what I have seen in my Stepson's room. Only his father's room was spotless in comparison.
A big double bed with dark green silk sheets, a bench that looked expensive was placed before the bed, beside two nightstands with lamps on them, and a dark green carpet—there was absolutely nothing else in here. To the right was a big walk-in closet, and to the left was a big bathroom, so there should be no problem placing a cat toilet inside. It even had a jacuzzi.
I turned right to the walk-in closet, where half was filled with expensive suites, the other half with part empty and part with clothes that looked brand new. I slid my hand through them, feeling extra rich all of a sudden. The tags were still on the dresses, so I hope they aren't for me because that is by no way my style.
Mr. Lancaster suddenly showed up in the door frame, leaning against it while watching me look through the closet. How is he so silent when he walks?
"Are these for me?" I pointed at them.
"Call me Thomas." He said, and I tilted my head to ask if he had understood my question.
Thomas finally gave an answer,
"Yes, they are. You have to change into them now; as my wife, you have to look presentable." Why were his eyes so straight at his counterpart in a conversation?
Isn't it a normal etiquette to look away for a bit while talking before meeting one's eyes again? Instead, Thomas was just staring straight at me; that was so unnerving.
"Okay." I didn't want to give away my comfortable clothes, but as for looking the part in the span of a year, I could do it....probably.
Thomas left the room considerately. I chose an empty drawer to store my loot of the day, and seeing my new memories, I was really content with being here.
Then I went for a simple beige dress.
I hated my light hair color endlessly when I was a teenager, but it was practical because my body hair was also not really visible. Then, as a young adult, I was annoyed with how the sun broke against my unshaved legs picturesquely in the summer and got a full-body laser treatment. Besides it being an embarrassing procedure, I have been officially body-hair-free for six years.
Having no need for a good shave, I could put the dress on immediately, and was ready for what would follow, which was hopefully dinner.
I peeked at the floor, where I saw nothing and nobody, so I went to test the mattress. It was super comfortable, as expected of the wealthy. My cat will love it. At home, it had to share my single bed with me, and it ended with me being kicked out of it continuously.
My folding phone couldn't bring much entertainment, so I just dozed off until I was called for dinner. It was a good nap. I will buy this exact bed when I get my payment.
And, it was my favorite maid who called me for dinner, storming into the room as if she lived inside herself.
I think she had a complex because of her prominent nose. Besides staring at me in hatred, the same as before, she tried to lower her head too, to hide the mentioned body part. Well, a nose was not to be hidden in a face, so her behavior came across as sneaky.
"Dinner." She bellowed, and I stood up and followed her. While we made our way downstairs, she murmured for me to hear,
"How outrageous, getting in Master's bed not long after the madam's death."
Had the butler mentioned that he was a widower? I didn't really remember, so it was good to know. I am curious if she had behaved that way with the madam as well. Hoping that my cat was safe with all these lunatics here, I zoned out again.
This wasn't the first time I had gotten treated as dirt, and as life usually goes by, it was surely not the last time either, so I didn't practically bug me. Besides, if you gave me that sum of money just to ignore an asshole maid, then be my guest.
We arrived at the dining room. Well, I wasn't even surprised anymore. Golden ornaments, a teak wood table (I don't know what teak wood looks like, but I'm sure it isn't worse than this wood). The mandatory long table and one, two, three – eight seats.
My husband was seated at the head of the table; my stepson hadn't arrived, maybe still working out upstairs. It is good to be young and have a good stamina; it is the joy of every gym teacher to break these tough students.
Thomas was still in his suit, and he motioned for me to sit on his right side. I went ahead and looked at the row of cutlery laying beside the plate. I had no need for so many forks on the table, so I pocketed one discreetly while Thomas was tapping on his phone.
Leaning back, I waited; the food had still not arrived even after fifteen minutes.
"When dinner?" I was so hungry that my body started to preserve my energy; full sentences weren't possible anymore.
Thomas didn't look up and just commented,
"When Jude arrives."
I hummed at that, thinking for a while. The 'Hey Jude' song, was that for a woman or a man? I can't really complain because my name 'Lesly' is also a one for both genders.
"Who that?" I asked him.
Finally, looking up, the man presented his attractive face. His light eyes lingered on my dress for a moment, apparently satisfied with my choice if my reading of micro-expressions was correct.
"My son." He curtly informed me and was back on his phone. Didn't someone tell him that you don't use your phone on the dining table?
Impolite.