Free A Penny for Your Thoughts by Mindy Starns Clark

find his arrogance a little off-putting. I found it sort of charming, particularly because I was in the middle of a bowl of the most delicious soup I’d ever tasted. Like any great artist, he perhaps had the right to be a bit egocentric.
    “I had always thought about coming to America,” he continued. “And to get a chance like that, to have the freedom to cook what I wanted, to have as my audience people with educated palates—I did not hesitate. I said yes, packed my bags, and flew to America within the week. Of course, at the time I had no idea that my employers would become like family as well. I love it here. I never looked back.”
    “That’s wonderful,” I said. “I take it the Smythes get along well? One big happy family?”
    Nick and Angelina shared a glance, and I realized suddenly that my seemingly innocent question had somehow touched a nerve. I let the question hang there, eager to see who would answer it, and how.
    “They…have their problems,” Angelina said finally. “But then, who does not?”
    I nodded, thinking that she had skillfully deflected the question. So things weren’t all hunky-dory on the home front. That didn’t bode well for any of them, particularly since the head of the household had now been murdered.
    “Marion and Wendell? How was their marriage?”
    “Like a rock,” Nick said defensively, giving Angelina an angry glance. “You never met two people so totally in love.”
    “I see. What’s the problem, then? Parent-child issues?”
    They both seemed uncomfortable, and I didn’t blame them. Here I was, a complete stranger, grilling them about their beloved employers.
    “Their son and his wife are separated,” Angelina said finally. “It makes things a bit tense sometimes, especially because she still lives here.”
    “She lives here even though they’re separated?”
    “She and her son moved into the cabana a few weeks ago,” Nick said, his voice tight.
    “Sidra is Wendell’s dialysis technician,” Angelina added. “So even though she’s living in the cabana now, she is still in the house a lot.”
    “Dialysis in the house? I thought that type of thing was done at a dialysis center.”
    “Not if you are rich,” Angelina whispered. “Mr. Smythe has a whole dialysis room upstairs. The chair, the machine, the supplies. It is really something.”
    I nodded, wondering if the supplies upstairs included syringes and extra insulin.
    “So why are Derek and Sidra sep—”
    “This is really not any of our business,” Nick interrupted, and I could tell the subject was closed. I decided to take things in a different direction.
    “So how about you, Angelina?” I asked lightly. “How did you end up here, working for the Smythes?”
    “When I finished scuole media —high school, I guess you would call it—Nick convinced Mama to let me come to America, to live and work with him.”
    “She is a good girl,” Nick said paternally. “Works hard for the Smythes, and they appreciate her.”
    “Do you like it here as much as Nick does?” I asked.
    “The Smythes have been very good to me,” she replied evasively. I wondered about the two of them, brother and sister, living in the Smythes’ house, the servant class in residence. Angelina was an attractive girl, but something in her seemed unsettled, as if her life here was as ill-fitting as her uniform. I thought perhaps I should speak with her later when her big brother wasn’t there watching over her shoulder. For now, I would wrap up this conversation before either of them realized that I was more than just a nosy houseguest.
    “I think I’ll wander around a bit,” I said when I was finished eating, carrying my dishes to the sink. “Everything is so lovely here.”
    “It is beautiful, isn’t it?” Angelina said. “You must see Mr. Smythe’s rose garden, he was always very proud of it. The white roses are probably finished blooming for the season, but the pinks and especially the yellows are still