Read Dying to Please for Free Online

mouth. She was so neat and trim, her movements brisk and economical. He doubted anything as inane as a giggle had ever passed her lips.
    The next shot was of her employer, a tall, thin, elderly man with white hair, glasses, and a narrow, lively face dominated by a large hooked nose. “I couldn't function without her,” he said cheerfully. “Sarah handles all the household details. No matter what happens, she has it under control.”
    “She certainly had things under control earlier this week when there was a break-in here at the home,” the reporter continued. “By herself, Sarah thwarted the robbery by tripping one of the thieves as they carried out a big-screen television.”
    The shot returned to her. “The television was very heavy, and they were off-balance,” she said with simple modesty.
    Chills of excitement ran down his back as he watched and listened, waiting for her to speak again. He wanted to hear more of her voice. The next shot was of her opening the back door of an S-Class Mercedes for her elderly employer, then going around to slide under the steering wheel.
    “She is also a trained driver,” the reporter intoned, “and has taken several defensive-driving courses.”
    “She takes care of me,” said the old man, smiling from ear to ear. “She even cooks occasionally.”
    Back to her. “My job is to make my employer's life as comfortable as possible,” she explained. “If he wants his newspaper at a certain time, then I'll have it there for him even if I have to get up at three A.M. and drive somewhere to collect it.”
    He had never envied anyone before in his life, but he envied that old man. Why should he have someone like her looking after him? He would be better off with a live-in nurse named Bruce, or Helga. How could he possibly appreciate the treasure of her, the sheer perfection?
    Back to the reporter. “Being a butler is a highly specialized vocation, and there are very few women who enter the field. Topflight butlers train at a school in England, and they don't come cheap. To Judge Lowell Roberts in Mountain Brook, though, price doesn't matter.”
    “She's a member of the family,” said the old man, and the final shot was of Sarah setting down a silver tray loaded with a coffee service.
    She should be
here,
he thought violently. She should be serving
him.
    He remembered the old man's name:
Lowell Roberts.
So price didn't matter? Well. They would see. He would have her, one way or another.
             
    Judge Roberts slapped his knees with satisfaction. “That was a good piece, don't you think?”
    “It was less painful that I feared,” Sarah said dryly as she cleared away his breakfast things. “They certainly took a long time to film about sixty seconds worth of story.”
    “Oh, you know how television is: they shoot miles of film, then edit most of it. At least they didn't get any details wrong. When I was on the bench, whenever I gave a statement or an interview, there was always at least one detail that was reported wrong.”
    “Will this give you bragging rights at your poker game?”
    He looked a little embarrassed, but gleeful all the same. “For at least a couple of weeks,” he confessed.
    She had to smile. “Then it was worth it.”
    He turned off the VCR, because of course he had taped the segment. “I'll get copies of this made for the kids,” he said.
    Sarah glanced up. “I can make copies, if you'd like. My VCR is a twin-head.”
    “Don't start speaking technical jargon to me,” he warned,
waving a hand as he ejected the cassette. “Twin-head sounds like something teams of surgeons would have to correct, and one head would die in the attempt. I think I have a blank in the library—”
    “I have plenty of blanks.” She always kept a supply, just in case he needed one.
    He slipped the cassette into the cardboard jacket and carefully wrote, “Sarah's television interview,” on the adhesive strip before handing the tape to her.
    “I'll get them