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**PART SIX**

Under ordinary circumstances, I wouldn’t have even considered such a ‘request.’

I hadn’t even fully committed to tutoring Annabelle yet, as this session was only supposed to be a trial. Despite the amazing paycheck, I was still on the fence about making this an addition to my already hectic weekly schedule. That was still my mindset when I got in the car, though I was admittedly already leaning towards the job simply because the extra spending money would alleviate a different sort of stress than an extra commitment would add. My first day there, as a guest, and I was being told to go help in the kitchen?

If this were a guy, I would have slapped him in the face. However, Annabelle’s casually presumptuous attitude made it sound natural after hearing the way she spoke in general prior to Trixie’s arrival in the suite. That, and I had been off balance since the moment I arrived. Being told to park around back, taking the servant’s entrance, coming face to face with an unfairly beautiful red haired girl, and being stunned by how lavish every single room in the room was.

I tried one more time to suggest that my time here would be better served tutoring, but I’m not the best at confrontation. Annabelle brushed off my words with the same response as before; that it would be a more productive use of my time than simply sitting there waiting for her to finish the issue set. Besides, poor Trixie was working alone today, when she’d normally have someone else to assist with everything downstairs.

Ultimately, I caved. There wasn’t really any harm in stepping away for a few minutes, and Annabelle was the only client here due to her parents’ absence. If this is what she wanted to pay me for, rather than my mathematics knowledge, then so be it.

Following Trixie out of Annabelle’s suite and back down the long upstairs hallway, I got my bearings a little better after a second pass through the house. Expansive upstairs layout, stairwell to the front door, and a couple gathering rooms before the kitchen that I had previously not seen. I shouldn’t have been surprised by the size, considering everything else in the house, but I was still taken aback when I stepped into the cooking space.

Two islands, rather than one, complete with marble countertops. A fridge twice the size of your average suburban variety. Overall, an insane amount of both counter space and walking space. Those were just the first few things I noticed, and I could already imagine them owning the most expensive cooking tools, ingredients, etc. Trixie was already used to the impressive kitchen, and wasted no time walking over to the island sink, washing her hands, and finally looking towards me.

“What are you waiting for, Ms. Moore? Wash your hands. We have a lot to do before lunch.”

“Oh, right. Of course,” I nodded, breaking out of my momentary awe. Following suit, I washed my hands and then looked towards Trixie for guidance. I wasn’t lying when I told Annabelle I was a terrible cook. Most of my meals were from the cafeteria at university, or whatever simple thing I could throw together at the apartment during a small studying break.

Like a lost lamb, I pretty much stood there and waited for Trixie to set everything up after washing my hands.

“We’ll cook in two stages, Ms. Moore,” she explained, “The primary focus is Ms. Annabelle’s lunch, but we’ll also do some prep work for dinner whenever there is extra time between steps. Cleaning afterwards, of course, and then we’re done. Sound good?”

“Umm, sure,” I replied. Since I could barely cook for myself, I definitely wouldn’t know how to do so for the rich. Following Trixie’s lead was the way to go, “Just tell me how I can help? Oh, and ‘Meredith’ is fine.”

“That’s not your call, Ms. Moore,” she said, “Do you know how to mince?”

Trixie placed a knife and cutting board next to the island sink, followed by a small stack of vegetables. When I mentioned I had only ever done so a few times in my life, she gave me a brief lesson as a reminder. Rinse the vegetables first, hold the knife like this, cut like so, etc. Best to not go too quickly at first, to avoid a potential cut. With that, she left me to my own devices.

I began working my way through the pile, and it was certainly a slow process for an amateur like me. Every vegetable was a different shape and size, meaning adjustments and a few awkward angles of the knife as I tried to find out how to line everything up. In the meantime, Trixie started on pretty much everything else. Pots and pans from a number of places, ingredients from the fridge and cabinet, cooking utensils and spices, and more. I tried to focus on the task at hand, but I couldn’t help but notice how the girl moved so efficiently without seeming rushed at the same time. It came with experience, I suppose, but how much experience could someone possibly have at her age?

For Annabelle’s insistence about Trixie needing an extra set of hands, I definitely didn’t feel that helpful. After mincing everything, I was mostly tasked with stirring a thing or two and keeping an eye on those things while she did everything else. A helpful task, I suppose, so she wouldn’t have to stress about it while handling other steps, but I still felt like I was more in the way than actually contributing.

By the time Annabelle’s lunch was prepared, a well-seasoned meal that made my mouth water a little bit after being surrounded by the amazing smells for the entire process, I had completely lost track of time. Glancing towards the clock on the stove, my eyes widened when I saw that we had been cooking for just over an HOUR.

“Trixie-” I began, knowing that Annabelle must have finished her issue set well over thirty minutes ago.

“Time to clean, Ms. Moore,” she said.

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