Page 89 of My Best French Wedding

“Does your mom still do your laundry?” Walter asked.

Although she didn’t detect any judgment in his tone, Hildy felt the need to set him straight. “She’s not in the picture.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It happened a long time ago. Not exactly breaking news.”

“Still.”

“I never really knew her.” Hildy was going forit’s all good! I’m not a human tragedy!Judging by Walter’s expression, the attempt had backfired. She balled up the sheets and dumped them into the washing machine. “What’s next?”

He hesitated only briefly before accepting the subject change. “Detergent.”

Walter looked Hildy up and down, from the bare floor next to her feet to her empty hands and slim purse. It felt like a practical inspection rather than a pervy one, but she would have gladly given him one of her remaining quarters for his thoughts.

“They have some down here.” He led her to a banged-up metal cabinet. To Hildy’s surprise, Walter pulled a set of keys from his pocket and unlocked the doors. There were shelves full of cleaning supplies inside, including industrial-sized boxes of laundry detergent.

“You’re like the James Bond of laundry,” Hildy observed as he scooped some bluish-white powder into a plastic measuring cup.

He snorted at that. “Not exactly.”

“Then why do you have keys to the secret supply cabinet?”

“I’m helping out at the dorms when we’re not in class. My scholarship is actually a work-study deal. To cover the room and board.”

She was relieved he didn’t ask about her family’s ability to payout of pocket for this program, since Hildy had no desire to go there.

“So you know the lay of the land.”

“I guess?” Walter shrugged before heading back to the washer. “It’s not like they gave me the nuclear codes.”

Modesty was a rare quality in Hildy’s world. She found his lack of hype refreshing. It made him seem trustworthy, on top of being handy to have around.

“Walter.”

“Hmm?”

“Do you know anyone else in the program?”

“No.”

She smoothed her hair. “Do you want to do it with me?”

His hand jerked, shooting granules of laundry soap onto the floor. “What?”

“There’s going to be a group project.” This was the one useful piece of advice she’d gotten from her cousins. “We could be partners.”

Walter closed the lid of the washer and turned a dial. “You want to work with me?” he asked over the sound of water filling the machine.

“That’s the general idea.”

When he didn’t respond right away, Hildy braced for rejection. Maybe she’d come on too strong, when she should have played it cool.

“You don’t even know who else is going to be there,” he said at last, sliding her a look she couldn’t read.

“I have excellent instincts.” Or at least she hoped that was the case. Will to power and all that. “But if you don’t want to—”

“I do.”