Chapter 33

After the linens had been changed on all the beds, the house thoroughly swept or vacuumed in every room, Bo Mei set her mind to the next task at hand. Teaching her pupil everything about running a household was daunting to say the least. This person could barely function on a child’s level. It was like teaching an eight-year-old to be someone’s wife. They stopped for lunch and when the housekeeper looked in the refrigerator, she clucked her tongue.

“What have you been living on?” she asked her new employer.

Mila shrugged. “These box foods that Marqi showed me how to make, and um, pizza mainly. And cookies and chips.”

The older woman shook her head. “You’re going to make yourself sick eating that. Bad for you! You need fresh vegetables; meats, fish. We must go to the store.”

“We’ll have to wait until Tuesday,” Mila paled.

“Why?” Bo Mei wanted to know.

“That’s when the driver will be back.”

“Driver?” She was confused.

“Oh, yes,” Mila said. “I need to take driving lessons.”

The housekeeper squinted her eyes and considered the problem before her. She shook her head again, then said, “We cannot wait until Tuesday. Call and have him come today. Get the phone book.”

“I don’t think he’s in the phone book,” Mila said.

“No. You need driving lessons. Driving School! In the phone book.” She shooed Mila away, and the child scurried to retrieve the big yellow book.

“Hey, there’s a whole bunch of them listed under Driving Instruction,” she reported triumphantly to her housekeeper.

Mei smiled, “Good. Now you call; find someone to teach you.”

Mila grabbed the phone and dialed Al’s School of Driving. Al’s secretary answered on the second ring. Within minutes Mila was spilling her information over the phone. A simple readout of the numbers on her bank card and Mila was signed up for lessons beginning Monday at six.

“That conflicts with dinner,” Mila said. “What should I do?”

“Eh, eat a sandwich on the way there,” the housekeeper supplied logically. “Now, call the chauffeur.”

Mila didn’t know the number, so she called her lawyer’s office, but Granger was out. She had to leave a message. With a sigh, she replaced the phone and said, “No luck.”

“All right. We’ll call someone,” her tutor told her, “but not for pizza!”

An hour later a Chinese place Mila had never heard of was ringing her doorbell. She quickly paid cash, remembering to tip the driver when Bo Mei elbowed her in the ribs. The two of them then carried their lunch into the dining room and proceeded to set everything out on the table. Using the good china and silverware, the two ate their way through six takeout containers. They were just finishing up their meal when the telephone rang.

“It’s the lawyer!” Mila reported excitedly.

“Tell him to call the driver,” Mei reminded her pointedly.

“Oh, yeah,” Mila said. She relayed the request to the lawyer, who complied with a thinly disguised sigh. She hung up and said, “He’ll be here this afternoon, but I have to pay the weekend rate.”

“It’s only Friday!” Bo Mei objected.

Mila shrugged.

“All right. In the meantime, I teach you the proper way to wash dishes, and then, we have to dust.”

The woman’s no nonsense attitude was just what Mila needed. She rolled up her sleeves and got to work.