The water sluiced off Lizzy's skin in rhythmic, heavy droplets, each one sounding like a ticking clock against the heated stone of the pool deck. She stood tall, the neon white fabric of her bikini stark and defiant against her tan. She didn't reach for a towel. Instead, she let the sun bake the moisture into her skin, her eyes locked onto Georgia, who stood paralyzed behind the glass doors.
Georgia stepped onto the deck, the sliding door hissing shut behind her with an air of finality. She was still in her charcoal suit trousers and a silk blouse, the uniform of a woman who had spent the day being interrogated by the press and adored by the public. But here, in her own sanctuary, she looked suddenly, violently out of place.
"Lizzy?" Georgia's voice was low, vibrating with a mixture of confusion and a rapidly rising heat. "What is this?"
Lizzy tilted her head, a strand of wet hair falling over her shoulder. She didn't look like a housekeeper caught in a moment of indiscretion. She looked like she belonged there more than Georgia did.
"The heat, Miss Sterling," Lizzy said, her voice smooth and devoid of the stuttering humility she had practiced for days. "The apartment was stifling. I thought you wouldn't be back until eight. The schedule Clarice sent over said you had the radio circuit followed by the publisher's gala."
Georgia's eyes flicked to the kitchen, where the groceries, expensive, organic, and currently rotting, sat in their bags. Then her gaze traveled upward to the mezzanine. She couldn't see Noah, but she could feel the heavy, stagnant air of his presence.
"The gala was moved. I had a migraine," Georgia snapped. She took a step closer, her heels clicking aggressively. "But that doesn't explain why you're in my pool. Or why you're wearing… that. And where is your uniform?"
Lizzy looked down at herself as if only just realizing she was nearly naked. She let out a small, musical laugh that made the hair on Georgia's arms stand up. It was the laugh of the girl from the Bradford hallways.
"I was cleaning the filters," Lizzy lied, the falsehood so blatant it was an insult. "I didn't want to ruin the uniform. Mrs. Higgins said you were very particular about the maintenance of the staff attire."
At the same moment, Noah reached the bottom of the stairs, breathless, his eyes locked on the pool, until he saw Georgia.
The silence that followed was absolute. The city hummed outside, but inside the glass house, the air had turned to ice.
"Georgia," Noah stammered, his face turning a ghostly shade of gray. "You're... you're home."
Georgia didn't look at Noah. Her eyes were fixed on Lizzy. She saw the girl she had mistaken for a fan, the girl who was supposed to be mousy and common, standing in her private sanctuary, wearing next to nothing, looking like she owned the sky.
"The groceries," Georgia said, her voice a low, dangerous vibration. "They're melting, Lizzy."
Josette didn't flinch. She grabbed a plush white towel, Georgia's towel and wrapped it slowly around her waist. She met Georgia's gaze with a look of pure, unblinking innocence.
"I'm so sorry, Miss Sterling," Josette whispered. Seeing Noah was already there, she needed an excuse. "I thought I was alone." She finally said