My dad remained silent while I looked out the window at the passing scenery. After a few seconds, he finally spoke:
"Sweetheart, I'm going to call the housekeeper to help you unpack your clothes."
"Okay," I replied, turning around to grab my suitcases. I placed them on the bed, one by one. There were three, but not even half of my belongings were inside them. While I was still packing in Staunton, my mom suggested I bring fewer clothes, telling me that the style in a small town was different from a big city like Florida. At the time, I didn't understand what she meant. Clothes are just clothes — everyone dresses differently anyway.
She noticed my confused expression and said that if I needed anything else, my grandma could send the rest in a few days. I agreed — mostly out of obedience — but of course, I knew I would eventually need the rest of my wardrobe.
I was busy organizing my things when I heard a soft voice:
"Hi."
I turned toward the door and saw a woman standing next to my dad. She looked to be in her early thirties, wearing a professional uniform. She was very pretty and delicate.
"Hi, how are you, ma'am?" I replied with a smile.
My dad smiled and corrected me:
"Sweetheart, don't call her that. Can't you see she's a young woman?"
"Oh— sorry," I mumbled, embarrassed.
The woman gave me a kind smile.
"It's okay, really. Nice to meet you. I'm Abigail, the housekeeper."
I reached out my hand."Nice to meet you."
Right then, my dad's phone rang. He excused himself and looked at Abigail.
"Here… uh…" He hesitated, clearly struggling to remember her name.
"Abigail," she finished for him.
"Yes, of course. Sorry. Help her with whatever she needs and call me if anything comes up. I'll be in my office."
"Yes, sir," she replied.
My dad left, and I felt awkward knowing he didn't even remember her name. Abigail noticed.
"You must be wondering why he doesn't know my name yet, right, Mia?"
I smiled. I hadn't even told her my name — she was paying attention.
"I'm new here. Your dad wanted to hire a housekeeper just for your arrival. Before, only a cleaning lady came over about three times a week," she explained.
She stepped closer and began helping me fold my clothes. I felt uncomfortable — I've always done everything by myself. I stayed quiet, wondering if she was supposed to be some kind of nanny.
"I'm not your nanny," she suddenly said.
I jumped slightly — it was like she was reading my mind.
"I'm here to help with whatever you need, so don't hesitate to ask me."
"Okay… thank you."
As we talked, Abigail pulled out one of my favorite dresses — sunflower print on a red background. She looked at it with a curious expression.
"Oh, how cute! I've never seen anything like this around here."
I wasn't sure if she was complimenting or judging, so I stayed quiet. I noticed a faint accent in her voice and asked:
"You're not from Florida, are you?"
She smiled.
"No. Not from Florida, not from the United States. I'm Italian. I arrived a few months ago."
"Wow — Italy! It must be beautiful there!"
"It is."
"So… why did you come here?"
She glanced at me, and I realized I might have crossed a line. I quickly apologized:
"Sorry…"
"It's fine. You can ask whatever you want. It's just a long story — and not a very interesting one," she replied.
I let the subject drop. Abigail then changed the mood:
"Mia, would you like to shower before dinner? I'll finish up here."
I nodded, grabbed some clothes, and went to the bathroom. I washed and dried my hair — I hate airports; I always feel gross afterward. Crowded places aren't my thing.
When I came out, Abigail was gone. And so were my clothes. I rushed to the closet and found everything perfectly organized.
"Wow… she's like The Flash," I whispered.
I laid on the bed and started scrolling on my phone. A moment later, I heard a loud call:
"MIA!"
It was my dad approaching. He came into the room and announced:
"Sweetheart, we're having dinner out — at a friend's restaurant."
"But I didn't even get ready…"
"You look perfect. We're going like this," he said. "I'll be waiting downstairs."
"Dad!" I called.
He turned around.
"Can Abigail come?"
His eyebrows furrowed — after a short pause, he nodded:
"Sure. I'll invite her. Be downstairs in thirty minutes."
I gave a thumbs-up. I changed into my sunflower dress, paired it with black leather boots and a matching jacket. I put on some light makeup and went downstairs.
My dad was impatiently flipping through a book in the living room. When he saw me, he smiled:
"You look beautiful, sweetheart."
"Thank you… Where's Abigail?"
"She's getting ready. I mean — what woman gets ready in half an hour?" he joked.
I raised an eyebrow."I do!"
He laughed.
"That's true — you were fast."
"Sweetheart, by the way… school starts Monday, okay?"
"Yes, I know," I replied, not thrilled.
He continued:
"Tomorrow, the company's driver will take you and Abigail wherever you need to go. Buy your school supplies and take time to study. Your school is very demanding."
I nodded as he added:
"There are rules here just like at your mother's. Focus on your studies. No going out during the week, no staying up after 10 PM… and I don't even need to mention staying away from alcohol, drugs, and dating."
I couldn't hold back a little laugh.
"Okay. Better than at Mom's… There I had to sleep at 9 PM."
He frowned.
"Damn. I should've discussed that with Cami first."
That name froze me. It had been so long since I'd heard him call my mom "Cami." He noticed my expression and changed the subject, taking a card from his wallet.
"This one has a bigger limit. What you used in Staunton wouldn't last a week here. Things are expensive in Florida."
I stared at the card without taking it.
"Just keep it in your purse. I'll send you the code later."
Then he noticed.
"Oh… you don't have a purse."
Feeling awkward, I grabbed the card and placed it on the side table.
"I'll put it away when we get back."
He didn't comment further.
Abigail entered the room wearing a long black dress, her hair loose around her shoulders. She looked stunning — and I noticed my dad's eyes linger on her before he said:
"Abigail, you look… great."
She smiled politely."Thank you, sir."
My dad gestured for us to go. We headed to the garage. Abigail was about to get into the back seat, but back in Staunton, elders always sat in front — so I stepped aside and insisted:
"You can take the front, Abigail."
She looked embarrassed, but before she could say anything, my dad opened the front door and helped her in.
During the drive, I watched the city through the window — bright streets, so much movement. It all felt overwhelming.
When we arrived at the restaurant, I felt slightly intimidated. The place was extremely sophisticated, full of elegant people — especially the women. A cheerful man approached us and greeted my dad with a warm hug.
"I thought you weren't coming, Mr. Holis!"
My dad chuckled.
"Holis? Stop that."
The man laughed.
"'Luck' is only for close friends — and it's been so long that I'm not sure we still qualify."
They laughed together. As we walked inside, the man looked at me.
"And this must be Mia — your daughter."
I was surprised he knew my name but smiled politely. His next comment caught me off guard:
"And this is your new girlfriend? You have excellent taste."
I tried — and failed — to hide a laugh. He instantly realized his mistake and cleared his throat. My dad hesitated, not knowing what to say, but Abigail — always graceful — stepped forward.
"I'm Abigail, Mr. Luck's housekeeper," she said, shaking his hand.
He looked her up and down before shaking her hand awkwardly.
"Of course… well, let's go to the table."
There were five seats. My dad noticed too and asked:
"Is someone else joining us?"
"Yes — my son, Brandon," the man replied proudly. "He's about your daughter's age. Maybe they can be friends."
He nudged my dad playfully. My dad smiled faintly and glanced at me. A waiter brought menus before anyone could continue the conversation.
While I studied the fancy dishes, someone approached. Mr. Jackson perked up:
"Finally, Brandon! Where were you?"
"Sorry," the boy answered. "I went out with some friends."
Jackson gave him a disapproving look.
"Sit. We're ordering appetizers."
Brandon sat beside him. My dad and Jackson introduced all of us.
He was tall, blond, blue-eyed — a laid-back smile, but with intense eyes that lingered on me longer than I expected. I felt my face warm and looked down.
Dinner went by quietly, with short exchanges between the adults. Abigail remained discreet. Brandon seemed more captivated by his phone.
When we were leaving, Jackson suggested:
"Son, you should take Mia out. Show her around the city."
Brandon smirked.
"Sure — sounds great. Maybe tomorrow?"
My dad cleared his throat.
"No. Tomorrow she has to buy school supplies."
I nodded in agreement.
Brandon ignored the tension, holding his phone out to me:
"Put your number in. I'll text you later."
I typed it quickly and gave it back.
We said goodbye and headed home. On the drive, my dad finally said:
"Sweetheart, don't make plans with that boy. He's trouble — the whole town knows it."
I rolled my eyes.
"Okay, Dad. Don't worry."
My phone buzzed. A message from Brandon:
Good night! It was a pleasure meeting you. Hope I get to see you again soon.
I smiled and replied:
Thank you. It was nice meeting you too.
Once we were home, we all went our separate ways. I took a warm shower, put on my pajamas, and lay down, staring at the pink ceiling lit by the bedside lamp. My thoughts kept spinning until I finally drifted off to sleep.