"I've thought about it briefly before, but it's quite hit me now," Madeline said. "Think about it. You're starting to spend time with more affluent people—board members and even CEOs, such as Prince Nikolas. And yet, even though these sorts of people are enjoying your company and you're starting to dress the part in certain social situations, at the end of the day you're still the cleaning lady's intern!"
"No," I started. "I'm the intern and the cleaning lady. Not the cleaning lady's intern. If nothing else, I'm like high up there in the cleaning lady ranks."
"You're still a cleaning lady!" Madeline snapped. "I don't care if you are in charge of all them, how far are you supposed to go when every time one of the board members stops by the building, they see you in your cleaning lady uniform? It damages the image they have of you to see you running around in that frilly little outfit."
"My dress is modest!" I protested for eighty-millionth time. "Even if I do look like a French maid!"
"I don't care if your dress goes to your wrists and ankles," she fought back. "You're a maid, Cassie! You can't keep being a maid."
I flopped on my bed and looked up at the ceiling. "I don't want to be a maid," I said. "But I can't afford to not be. This job pays surprisingly well and covers three meals a day and gives me a place to live. And I don't have the money to leave. I want to, but I can't."
"Why don't you get yourself a nice little apartment in Wethercross?" she asked.
"Do you know what an apartment in Wethercross costs?" I cried. "Unless it's in some super sketch place—but I'm no karate kid. I can't exactly fight off the rapists. No way I could afford some nice apartment in Wethercross, assuming I could even find a decent job."
"Well I have money, if that's what you need," Madeline said.
I thought for a second. "But wouldn't that be worse?" I asked. "Then I would be a freeloader. Then, instead of the cleaning lady, I'd be the....well, I don't really know how that translates into business terms. But either way! I feel like that's worse if I'm just leeching off of you and your wealth. Besides, I think it would bother you after some time and I couldn't be proud of myself."
"I understand that," Madeline admitted. She thought for several seconds "Well, if I don't give you money, I can help you in other ways. I have many connections—I could help you find a decent job and an affordable place to live in the city. Or at least, a place that's nicely discounted. Then you aren't a freeloader, but you're taking advantage of your connections. Which is me, mostly, and probably Mercucio if you asked him."
I suddenly had a lovely little vision in my head of me standing in front of the window of my chic Wethercross apartment wearing my fashionable clothes from Prince Nikolas, free from the title of 'maid'.
"It does sound nice," I admitted. "And, I really don't want to continue being a maid."
"Then I'll start looking for a suitable job for you," Madeline said. "That is, until you...well, yeah."
"Until I what?" I asked.
"Nothing," she said. "If you want, you can stay with me for a bit until we get you self-sufficient. You can quit your little maid job today."
"Well, I can't quit today," I said, and a thought pricked my head. "Actually, this is perfect!"
"What is?"
"We're actually redoing a lot of the palace staff, and we plan to replace a lot of servants by New Year's. I can talk to Missus Lucille and just ask that she replace me along with everyone else. Then, I can wrap things up here in the next month before moving onto a new job."
"One more month?" Madeline sighed. "Well, that should be more than enough time to find you new employment and an apartment."
I felt an excited energy swelling up inside me. I'd be moving on from the position of 'Little Maid'—I'd get a more respectable job and become something more! I couldn't wait to tell Prince Nikolas! Besides, it would soften the blow when I told him that I'd resolved things with...
Luke.
It hit me like a punch to the stomach. What about Luke? Would he be upset if I was quitting? I wouldn't be able to see him nearly as much if I moved out of the castle. However, Wethercross wasn't far. We could still see each other in the evenings. And maybe he would be happy if I left? If I was gone, that meant that I wouldn't be spending time with Prince Coleman anymore. I'd pretty much never see him again.
Oh. I suddenly thought, surprised at the small thud in my chest. I'll never see Coleman if I quit. Perhaps that should have been the crowning incentive, but it wasn't. Maybe it was because of our conversation this morning, one where I felt that he had revealed a side of himself to me that he didn't often show people. Maybe I'd miss the little moments like that.
That doesn't matter. I thought to myself. I'm just being nostalgic for no reason. Besides, it's not like I'll never see him. I'm sure I'll run into him at some events. Of course, it would be different. I would never have those one-on-one moments, and I'd never get to ride with him for an hour to a pool party talking about whatever we felt like. However, that's for the best. That door is closed. In fact, it never truly was open to begin with.
I didn't get around to telling Luke or Missus Lucille about my decision to quit until Thursday, which was Thanksgiving Day in America, as my mother had incessantly reminded me of because she was worried about her baby being lonely. I set up a meeting with Missus Lucille at 4pm to officially let her know that I was resigning, and Luke had planned a date or something for that night and I figured I would tell him the news then.
At our meeting, I told Missus Lucille that she should look for a new personal maid for the Prince while she was looking to replace all the other staff, and that I would just leave with all the other servants in the New Year. That night after I'd changed into jeans and a sweater, Luke came to my door wearing khaki's and a red sweater. He took my hand and led me to his room for our surprise evening he had planned.
"Are you ready?" he asked me with twinkling eyes as we waited outside his door.
"Ready as I'll ever be," I said, smiling.
Luke opened the door to his room, and I saw a table set up in the middle of his room dressed with a white tablecloth holding candles and turkey, mashed potatoes, stuffing, and pumpkin pie. I gasped, and Luke rushed over to the table and pulled out a chair.
"Happy Thanksgiving, Cassie!" he cried. "Or as I like to call it, Happy Fakesgiving!"