The Housekeeper's Daughter [Elvis]

Chapter 1- Caught in the Act

"Oh my golly, look at that gorgeous piano!" I gushed and walked through the living room and up to it. It sat in a room that had a box television and a sofa.

Momma laughed as she came up to me. "I knew you would like that. I bet you will be on that thing a lot while you're here."

"He won't mind?"

"I doubt it. He's a kind man. He is such a gentleman and has a good heart."

I nodded, the desire to play the ivories overcoming the whole of me.

"Now, let's show you your room," Momma said. "It's upstairs. Mr. Presley has his house staff stay in the bedrooms on the second floor, the bedrooms to the left of the staircase. His room is the room on the other side of the house, over-looking the backyard."

I thought that I would stay in rooms near the kitchen like servants did, or in one of the buildings attached to the house. But were we called servants? Momma used the word staff. I liked that.

We ascended the stairs and turned down a hallway to the left of the staircase. We made it to the rooms farthest down the hallway, and she opened a door. "Here we are. I thought we could share a room. The bed is large, so both of us will fit."

We came into the room and I immediately saw a large bed with a fluffy pink blanket on it, a window faced me on the other side of the room, letting sunlight in, and there sat a tall dresser near the window, and a vanity desk sat right across the bed against a different wall. I smiled.

"I like it. Home sweet home."

"Indeed. Now, I have to go and start lunch for the rest of the staff. It will be done at noon. I'll leave ya to freshen up."

"Okay. What about my uniform?"

She waved a hand. "Don't worry 'bout that. You officially start your duties tomorrow. That will be the time that you wear a uniform."

I nodded. "Okay. Thanks, Momma."

She left the room, and I walked about a bit. I stopped at a stand-up mirror that showed me in my lavender skirt and white blouse. My long, wavy brown hair was done up in a bun.

"I think I'm gonna like it here." I thought of that black piano. "Yes, I will definitely like it here."

~ ~ ~

My first chore the next morning, after waking up at 6am, was to go around the house and make sure that the heating and cooling systems worked properly so the house had cool air in it all day. Momma, me and the three other staff - a maid-like woman Momma's age who went around and cleaned like I would be doing, a groundskeeper and a gardener - would be having breakfast at seven.

"This house is a dad-gum maze," I said to myself as I went room to room. I started with the upstairs and worked my way downstairs, then ended in the living room at a quarter to seven, according to the golden clock on the wall above the fireplace. I went into the room with the black piano and stood near the bench. I ran my hand over the covering for the keys. I looked around, making sure no one would see me open the covering and sit down on the bench.

"Holy sweet mother..." I muttered. "I haven't seen a piano this pretty before, only on TV."

I pressed a few keys, playing a little tune I made up on the spot. I grinned. I sat up properly, straightened out my uniform skirt and rested my hands on the keys.

"What should I play? I know so many songs, my brain could explode with 'em all." I thought about the house that I was in. I started playing "Love Me Tender."

"I love the sound on this," I said as I played. "Much better than the piano at the school. Very well-tuned."

Of course this would be a nice piano. Elvis Presley was rich. He could afford the best, including this mansion and its furniture and decorations, the staff, his father's house in the back and the other buildings around the property.

I played and closed my eyes as I did, taking in the tune and letting my fingers move along the keys. My fingers played the last notes and stopped.

"That was beautiful."

My heart jumped up to my throat, and I froze. I knew that voice. I would know it anywhere after listening to his music since he first produced "Heartbreak Hotel" four years ago when I was fourteen, and before that when he first sang "That's Alright Momma" on the radio. I slowly turned and let out a gasp. There stood Elvis Presley himself, dressed in black slacks and a white dress shirt with light-red vertical stripes. He had his hands in his pockets and that signature smirk on his dreadfully handsome face.

I stood up and stepped away from the bench. "Mr. Presley," I squeaked.

"The very same. You must be Mrs. Brighten's daughter Miss Megan Brighten."

I had to be as calm as possible, at least on the outside. Could he hear my heart bang inside of me? "I am. It's an honor to meet you."

"I would have to say that the honor is all mine." He stepped up to me, and I noticed his gleaming blue eyes. He held out his hand, and I took it. I felt a zing run up my arm at his soft, warm hand. I dropped it, even though I wanted to hold it longer.

"I'm sorry for playin' your piano," I said without really thinking about it first. He smirked again and came up to it and sat on the bench.

"No need to apologize, Miss Brighten. I hoped that someone would play this when I was gone." He started playing it, playing a tune I didn't recognize. He stopped after a few seconds. "As I have said, you played beautifully. I came into the house and immediately heard 'Love Me Tender' on the piano." He looked up at me with those blue eyes. "What a pleasant welcoming."

"I'm flattered."

He stood up from the bench, the corner of this mouth lifted. "I was told by your mother that you're savin' up to go to music school."

"Yes, that's true. That's why I'm here."

"And I'm glad that you are. Welcome to my home."

I smiled as broadly as I could. "Thank you."

"That's a mighty pretty smile you have there, Miss Brighten."

Heat rushed up my neck. What a charmer! "I can say the same to you, Mr. Presley."

"Why, thank you, ma'am. And it's Elvis."

"Okay, Elvis. And you can call me Megan."

"Very well, Megan."

I dreamed of him saying my name in his voice, but hearing it in person was far, far better. I kept his gaze but jumped out of it because someone addressed him from the living room - Momma.

"Mr. Presley, you're home!"

He turned and walked up to her, instantly embracing her. "Mrs. Brighten, it's so great to see ya again. I missed ya like nothin' else."

She let go of him and waved a hand. "Oh, stop it. How could you miss little ol' me? I trust that your travels went well?"

"Very well, thank you, ma'am."

Momma glanced back at me. "I see you met my Megan."

"Yes, I did. I caught 'er playin' on the piano when I walked in. She's quite the talented pianist."

I smiled at that, flattered again. "Well, she didn't get it from me," Momma said. "She taught herself when she was three years old, and now, she can't keep her fingers off the keys."

He looked back at me, his blue eyes twinkling. "I see. That's mighty impressive, Megan."

"Thank you."

"Mr. Presley, you must be hungry from your travels," Momma said. "Come, I'll make somethin' up for ya."

"I would love it if all of ya would join me at the table," he said. "And we can drag Dad out from the back house."

"Oh, he's goin' to be so elated to see you!"

Elvis grinned and walked on with Momma into the dining room and talked about what meal he wanted to eat. He made glances at me. I shut the cover for the keys on the piano and looked back at the dining room.

Elvis still stared at me, that little smirk playing on his attractive lips.

~ ~ ~

(So, I know that he didn't go to Germany to film G.I. Blues, but for the sake of the story, we'll pretend that he did.)