“Grilled cheese,” Ava said. “Whole wheat. Sharp cheddar. No crust. Squares. No brown edges.”
“Okay,” Maya replied.
When the sandwich arrived, Ava examined it carefully. Then, without warning, she swept her arm across the table.
The plate shattered.
Charles buried his face in his hands. “I’m sorry.”
The manager rushed over, but Maya raised a hand and knelt—not to clean, but to inspect the sandwich.
“You’re right,” she said. “This edge is darker.”
Ava froze.
“But that throw,” Maya continued thoughtfully, “seven out of ten. Good force. Poor control. If you’re going to make a scene, commit.”
The café went silent.
For a brief moment, Ava smiled.
That evening, Maya was called into the office. Charles Montgomery wanted her contact information.
An hour later, she stood in a penthouse that felt more like a museum than a home.
“I want to hire you,” Charles said.
“I’m a waitress.”
“I’ll pay you three hundred thousand a year.”
Maya took a breath. “I’m not a nanny.”
“Agreed.”
“And your sister stays away.”
Elaine Montgomery scoffed from across the room.
“And you,” Maya said to Charles, “have to show up.”
“When can you start?” he asked.