The Green-Eyed Maid Inn

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Set in the same universe as "Becoming Robin" and "Magic of the Kingdom" 17 year old Riley's life is going nowhere out of high school, and college in his own words "Just isn't for me," but a chance help wanted ad catches his attention, and changes the course of his life forever.

Author's Note:
Really quick up top, if you don't know me that is totally understandable. I haven't been very active for quite a long time, and I apologize for that. I love love love this community though, and as I'm trying to get back into writing and picking up the pieces of my shattered life, I can only ask that you bear with me.

This is, unlike past work, not completed yet. I have TONS of ideas on where I want this story to go, and a fairly definite idea of how I want it to "end" so it won't be one of those "Will you ever finish this?" things I'm unfortunately known for doing in the past.

But, I've been having so much fun writing this story that I just couldn't hold back on sharing it with you all. This is a story that, in the short time I've worked on it, has made me laugh several times, and burst into tears more than once. It's very much romcom adjacent, if not the stereotypical romcom formula, but that's not to say it doesn't get a little serious at times. Anyway, I hope that you enjoy this first chapter.

I'd like to keep up a weekly posting cadence, and I'm already several chapters ahead of that goal that are ready for posting, so, fingers crossed, hey?
~ Zoë

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‘No experience necessary. On site training provided. Must have a good attitude’

That was all the ad said, but as a broke kid with no real idea what I wanted to do with my life, it sounded like the lifeline I needed.

My parents were generous enough to let me figure things out at least. I mean, sure, my two older sisters were both attending Harvard with one planning to go into medical, and my younger sister Avery, who was only 16 was already getting scholarship offers. I was proud of them, as were my parents, but I was closer in reality to a lot of my family. Kate and Fiona were practically unique in getting into an ivy league college.

We were Dorchester Irish, the stereotypical “Boston Irish” everyone thinks of, and there was no shame in that. But the world was changing fast. The job market was bad even for college graduates, and I was getting tired of sitting at home, not being able to afford to go out and have a social life or make friends, and college just felt like a waste of time - their time, not mine, seeing as like I said, I had no real direction or goals.

And then I ran across the help wanted ad. It was for a place cheesily named The Green Eyed Maid Inn, which I immediately clocked as being one of those historical tourist trap revolutionary/colonial era places. They’re a dime a dozen in New England.

I was half right, too. The place was a mix of colonial old world charm and modern conveniences grudgingly tacked on for guest comfort. The lobby, for example, had a very modern elevator, but the front desk was a Victorian era bar that had been repurposed. The front facade was a patchwork of original masonry and modern touch ups, and the bright green trim around the door and windows looked suspiciously new, but the floors were as much original hardwood as safety inspectors would allow, especially in the back office section, where I now sat, under the watchful gaze of a portrait of the original matron.

The Green Eyed Maid Inn was a bit unusual like that. Even dating back to its founding, they say it was a woman owned business, but looking up at the portrait, I could believe she ran a strict ship. She didn’t look unkind, exactly, but somehow her piercing green eyes and professional expression, combined with perfectly kempt black hair worn in a tight bun, and overall stature, just combined to suggest ‘Behave and I won’t have you thrown in the harbor with the tea.’

I half expected the current owner, a woman by the name of Erika Van Laderman, to be equally intimidating. I stared up from my phone occasionally at the heavy oak door to her office, wondering if she was even inside, or if I’d been forgotten about. I nearly jumped out of my skin when she spoke up next to me.

“Can I help you?” she asked, and then gave a soft laugh. “Sorry.”

“Oh no, that’s okay,” I said, quickly standing as I fumbled with the scant few papers I could cobble together for the interview. I looked up, and then up again. She at least had the stature part of her predecessor. She was wearing black heels, but even so, she had to be at least 5’9” barefoot. Me? 5’6-1/2” if I really stretched myself up. But she had a kind, friendly smile. She couldn’t have been more than 28. “I’m Riley. You’re Mrs. Van Laderman?” I asked.

“Miss, and yes,” she corrected, adding, “But call me Erika,” she said as she offered me her hand. “Good to meet you Riley.”

“I wasn’t sure what documents I’d need to bring,” I said nervously, “So I just brought everything I could think of. I know the ad said no experience necessary, but I wanted to be thorough.”

She cracked a smile at that. “I appreciate the initiative, but you can relax,” she said with a soft laugh. Rather than opening the door to her office, she sat down in the sitting room chair opposite me, so I sat back down as well. “I’ve already done a background check and reviewed your application. This is just an informal interview. I want to size you up, get to know the person behind the camera.”

I blushed a little at that. “Oh... Wow you really have been thorough huh?” I said without thinking. Thankfully this got another laugh from her.

“Let’s just say Boston Latin holds a special place in my heart, especially the newspaper staff. My great grand aunt helped modernize it, back when it was still Girls’ Latin School. I really liked your article on BLA’s cheer squad going to nationals last year.”

“Oh, thanks,” I said sheepishly, beginning to relax. “The girl in the picture, Christie is a really good friend. We actually staged that photo. It was her idea to do an action shot of them performing aerials.”

“You’ve got a keen photographic eye,” Erika said. “I wish I could hire you on as my public relations agent instead of cleaning staff. Maybe in a few months, once tourist season has calmed down a bit,” she added thoughtfully. I brightened at that.

I hadn’t really considered the thought of photography as a professional pursuit. It was just something I did because I enjoyed it.

“Right now,” she continued, “I’ve got about 30 rooms to keep up with plus the restaurant, and we’re constantly short handed on cleaning staff. It’s partly my own fault,” she admitted, surprisin me a bit that she would open up like that to a prospective employee. “I expect a lot from my staff, but that’s also why we’re a popular low key celebrity stop.”

“Really?” I asked. I probably had walked past the old Inn hundreds of times growing up, and I never once saw a limousine or a gaggle of paparazzi waiting in ambush. She nodded.

“We’re off the beaten path, but even celebrities enjoy the historic atmosphere from time to time. That’s my number one rule, by the way - never ask for an autograph while in uniform. If you see a celebrity, treat them as you would any other guest. They’ll usually make it worth your while if they feel you’re sincere,” she added with a wink.

“I can do that,” I answered honestly. “My aunt Rose is a roadie for Hearts of Harvest. She gets me and my sisters backstage to hang out with the band whenever they’re in town so I’ve met a few.”

“Don’t let Claire hear you say that, or she’ll be begging you to take her,” I heard a girl laughing and looked up to see someone who looked about 17 or 18 - my age, wearing a long black dress and white apron with her red hair under a white cap. She looked like she had stepped right out of a period documentary, or a Doctor Who special. “She’ll be BEGGING you to introduce her.”

Erika gave a soft laugh again. “I’m more of a Heedless Despair fan myself, but thanks, Emily. You just gave me the perfect idea for Claire’s birthday.” She glanced back at me with a sheepish grin. “Claire’s my niece, but she’s also a part time employee, and this is Emily McHale. Em, this is Riley. If you can sweet talk her into starting today, I’ll let you handle her on the job training.”

“Wait, what?” I said, but Emily spoke up over me.

“Really!? Oh thank GOD!” she practically squealed as she bounced over to me, grabbed both my hands, and pulled me out of my chair. “C’mon Riley, I’ll show you where you can change. We should have a temp uniform that will fit you, until we can get you some custom tailored costumes.”

“Welcome aboard,” Erika giggled as she stood. “Emily will take good care of you. If you have any questions or need help with anything, please feel free to ask any of your fellow staff or come find me. And don’t forget to put your phone on vibrate while you’re working.”

I felt like I was in a bit of a daze as I let Emily lead me by the hand down the hall. What the heck had just happened, exactly? I think I just got hired, but why did Erika just refer to me as a girl? I didn’t look that much like a girl, did I? At least, I didn’t think I did.

“What’s your shoe size?” Emily asked as she led me into a large dressing area that almost looked like it belonged to a theater troupe, if everyone dressed in dour black and white. Black dresses hung on two long racks, with a stack of neatly folded starched aprons resting nearby, and racks of black shoes lined several shelves.

“Huh?” I said. “Oh, um, 9?” I said. She stopped and looked at me, then down at my feet.

“That seems a little big, but okay,” she said.

“Oh,” I said, realizing I needed to catch up to the conversation. “I’m wearing 9 men’s sneakers. I uh, don’t remember the conversion,” I lied. It was the best I could come up with while trying to figure out the best way to handle this situation.

I mean, on the one hand, it was just a costume, plus what if Erika was only hiring girls for her cleaning staff - you know, the whole maid servant colonial period look? On the other hand ... Actually, I couldn’t think of another hand just at the moment.

“Ah, gotcha,” Emily said. “Well, let’s get you in costume and we’ll sort out the shoe situation afterwards. Don’t be fooled when you meet Claire, by the way. She has a pixie cut too. But she wears a wig because she dyes her natural hair purple.”

That got a laugh out of me. “And purple hair wasn’t exactly something you saw every day back then, huh?”

“Yeah,” Emily giggled. “I know they stopped the witch burnings like a hundred years earlier, but they’d probably make an exception for that one!”

After a few minutes, I found myself emerging from the changing room looking more or less exactly like Emily - black dress, white apron, white cap, black stockings, black shoes, and even red hair, although my eyes were green, unlike her soft blues. It felt very, very strange, like walking around in a bathrobe with nothing but underwear underneath, and the petticoats kept tickling my legs. But if I looked like a girl before, there was absolutely no mistaking me for a boy now.

“So, tip numero uno,” Emily said as she folded the right side of her apron forward, showing me the inside back. “There’s a little pocket right here for your phone. If you put it on vibrate, you’ll be able to feel it more easily. We communicate via text when no guests are looking, so usually bathrooms, the back offices, cleaning supply closets.”

“Speaking of cleaning supply closets,” I said, “Not that I’m against manual labor or I wouldn’t have applied, obviously, but um, do we at least get to use modern technology to clean?” I asked, having brief moments of dreadful visions of trying to scrub linens using icy well water and a wash tub.

Emily burst out laughing. “Oh, God yeah! No we’re not luddites. We’re not professional reenactors either. Well, most of us aren’t. My brother Nick - the curly haired boy in the monkey suit you saw at the front desk, is studying theater, does some Revolutionary war reenactments sometimes.”

“Oh that sounds neat,” I said. “I’d love to take photos at one of his reenactments some time.”

“He’s got a girlfriend, just so you know,” Emily teased. I felt my cheeks turn bright red.

“Oh no, I didn’t mean it like that!” I blurted out, causing Emily to giggle even more. “I um, don’t think about guys like that.”

Emily stopped giggling, her smile brightening. “Oh, really now?” she asked. “I’ll file that one away under ‘good to know,” she said playufully and then giggled again. “I’m just teasing. New coworker razzing. Claire did it to me, too so I’m just paying it forward. You’ll get to tease the next new hire which hopefully won’t be too long because we’re super desperate for the help.”

“Well for what it’s worth, I applied for full time. I’m not doing college right now,” I said, as we stepped onto the elevator with a pair of guests, and immediately we both went silent. Emily put on her best professional smile.

“Good morning, sir, missus,” she said in a surprisingly convincing light English accent.

“Morning,” the man said without glancing up from his phone. The slightly younger woman made eye contact with Emily and smiled back though. I had to bite down on my tongue to keep from swallowing it.

“Good morning. Busy day?” she asked.

“Oh nothing we can’t handle ma’am,” Emily said cheerfully. “I’m just taking our new girl here under my wing to show her how we do things proper at the Green Eyed Maid Inn.”

The woman, glancing at me, gave a soft giggle. “Oh my. A green eyed maid at the green eyed maid. I love it.” She hesitated, waiting for the other guest to step off the elevator at the second floor. The doors closed, and then she said, “I know you’re not supposed to drop character, but I would really love to get a selfie with you if it’s okay?”

“Oh yes, that’s not a problem,” Emily said, gently elbowing me in the ribs. “Right, Riley?” Crap. She used my name. Maybe she wouldn’t notice.

I felt my cheeks burning again, but nodded. “Yeah, it’s no problem at all ma’am,’ I said sheepishly.

The blonde haired woman spun around and backed up between us, holding up her phone and snapping a selfie. She then dug into her handbag, producing two crisp bills that she pressed into our hands. “This is for being so sweet. I can’t wait to post this,” she said brightly and stepped off the elevator.

Emily and I stared at each other for a moment, waiting until the doors closed again before we both burst out giggling.

“Was... Was that who I think it was?” Emily asked. I knew EXACTLY who that was, and the fact she didn’t recognize me was precisely what had me laughing. It was all I could do to manage a nod.

In their earliest days, Heedless Despair went out of their way to hide their “real” selves, to separate the women from the characters, and in a way they still did that, but it wasn’t as big a secret anymore.

Jessica, Kristen, Moira and Lucia had each done several magazine and podcast interviews over the years. It was a bit like what pro wrestlers called Kayfabe. Being in on the joke, as it were, as fans, didn’t break the mystique, and in a lot of ways, oddly enhanced it.

“I can’t believe she didn’t recognize me, even after you used my name,” I finally exhaled and laughed again. “But I’ve only met her a few times, when they were playing the same venues as Harvest. Maybe she didn’t remember me,” I added, hopefully.

“I wonder if Erika knows they’re back in town,” Emily giggled softly as she pushed the door open button, and we stepped out. Jessica was nowhere in sight. “I’m sure she probably does though. Anyway, let’s start with a basic bed linen change, and I’ll show you where we keep the good linens,” she teased.

“How did I do, by the way?” I asked. “I mean considering that was one celebrity I actually personally knew, I didn’t screw up too badly did I?”

Emily shook her head. “No, you did great. Honestly I was pretty shocked too. The fact we were literally just talking about them, not gonna lie, I was a little spooked,” she said, as we walked down the hall to fetch the cleaning supplies.

~oOo~

Because Claire was only a part time employee due to her college schedule, I actually only got to meet her late in the afternoon that first day. I would have mistaken her for a guest if not for the hair, which, while I had initially pictured as being a deep, dark purple, was actually a pretty, soft lilac color, albeit even shorter than my own.

Still, her face lit up just as much as Emily’s had when she saw me and realized I was new, gushing over how exciting it was to have someone else our ages working there. As I had already learned, the other four cleaning staff, including our staff manager, were all in their late 20s or older, although they were all a fairly friendly and very welcoming bunch, especially when Emily helpfully told them how hard I had been working.

I don’t know about all that, though. I just did what I was told as best I could, but apparently that was some kind of special talent. Maybe it’s just because us gen Z have a bit of a reputation? Claire and Emily weren’t like that, though. Sure, Emily was a smartass, and I would have been terrified of Claire just on principle if I hadn’t been directly introduced to her, and found out firsthand just how much of a sweetheart she really is. But they both worked their butts off just as much as I tried to do.

I had a vintage motorcycle, a Kawasaki Ninja that I was getting restored, but that unfortunately meant public transit for now, so I was surprised when I clocked out my first shift, to find my younger sister Avery leaning against her Turquoise ‘09 Ford Focus, like she had been waiting for me.

“Hey,” she said. “I heard you got a new job. Congrats.”

“Hey, thanks,” I said as I approached. She, a little uncharacteristically, gave me a hug, and I knew instantly something was up. “What’s wrong?”

Avery shook her head slowly. “I don’t want to talk about it here. But can I give you a ride home? Maybe we can stop off at that park we used to play at when we were little.”

“Sure,” I said, not wanting to push her.

We drove in relative silence to the city park a few blocks from our house. It was late summer still, with the fall equinox another week away, and the sun was shining, kids playing, just a typical New England afternoon. We walked past our favorite swingset, and Avery stopped. She walked over and sat down on one of the swings. Without saying anything, I followed her and sat down on the next swing over.

She curled one arm around the chain, leaning her blonde head on her arm as she trailed her sneaker through the dirt briefly, the wind occasionally tugging at her uniform skirt. Avery was the first of our family to attend private school rather than one of the public or charter schools, just another reason to be proud of her, honestly.

“It’s about Megyn,” she said. I frowned. Megyn was Avery’s best friend in the world. I knew she would’ve come right out and told me if something had happened to her, so I could only guess that something happened between them.

“Did... Did you have a fight?” I asked.

She looked at me and cracked a smile. “I wish it was that easy.” She sighed. “No, not me. Her parents and her. Rye?” she said, looking up at me again. “Megyn and I are going steady.”

I brightened for a moment. “Hey, that’s great-” I said, and then it sank in what she had said about Megyn’s parents. “Oh, shit...”

“Yeah,” Avery said, looking back at the ground again. “You’re too young to know what love is. It’s just a phase. You’ve been friends for most of your life, of course you like her,” she said, shaking her head from side to side in a mocking tilt.

“Well,” I said, “Please excuse my American, but fuck them.” Avery giggled a little at that. “The best dates I’ve ever been on were with Christie. We didn’t work out, but we’re still best friends, and I learned a lot about dating. I wish I could only ever date my best friends - I mean, assuming we clicked the way Christie and I, or you and Megyn do.”

“Thanks,” Avery said. “I knew I could talk to you about this. But, I mean I really thought herparents would be cool with it. Now though, I’m not even sure I want to tell mom and dad. I don’t know what to do, and I’m so scared I won’t get to see Megyn again.”

“That’s not for them to decide,” I said bluntly. “If it comes down to it, you and Megyn can stay with Kate or aunt Rose. I don’t think it’s going to come to that though.” My phone chose that most inopportune time to vibrate. I ignored it.

“You really think so?” she asked, looking back up at me with tears in her eyes. I got up and stepped in front of her, holding my arms out for a hug. She collapsed into me from the swing in a smooth motion, burying her face in my shoulder.

“Yeah, I really do,” I said, and squeezed her close. “If you want I’ll talk to mom and dad for you, but I think you should at least talk to mom.”

“Auntie Rose is back in town,” Avery said. “Maybe with her over, nobody’ll make a scene,” she said, and laughed a little. “Thanks, Rye. Sorry for getting mascara on your shirt,” she said wryly.

I laughed. “Hey, it’ll wash out. I need to change anyways. My new coworkers invited me out to dinner tonight, and I have no idea what I can even wear.”

“Formal or casual?” Avery asked, perking up as we started to walk back to her car together.

“Um, casual I think. They told me to leave my p-” I caught myself, “My wallet at home, their treat.” I didn’t mention that only one of my coworkers was actually our age. I also didn’t want to turn them down as they seemed insistent on welcoming me to the GEM Inn family.

“Oh, then any old thing will do,” Avery said, a playful smile crossing her lips. “I’ve got a really cute pink skirt you can borrow.”

I burst out laughing despite myself, probably not the reaction she expected based on the goofy grin she shot back at me. “I’m glad you’re feeling better,” I said, trying to cover for myself, but I really was. “Hey, why don’t you invite Megyn and we can meet up with them? I’ll tell them you’re my ride home as an excuse to introduce you.”

I hadn’t really thought that one through prior to saying it. I just wanted to give my sister and her girlfriend a chance to be together in a normal social situation. Thoughts of stories about “what a hard worker your sister is” never crossed my mind.

“Wait, seriously?” Avery said. “Like, a double date?” she grinned.

I laughed. “Oh no. I’m going stag,” I shot back dryly. “Besides I wouldn’t want to cramp your style.” In the privacy of my own thoughts, I added, ‘Although I might need to borrow that skirt, after all if I want to keep up this appearance of being the new cleaning “girl”. I sighed to myself as I slid into the passenger seat and pulled out my phone.

My heart sank so fast I’d swear I felt it bounce off the seat and back up into my chest as I looked at my messages. “Oh, shit.”

It was a text from Emily with a link to Jessica’s - Scarlet of Heedless Despair’s - personal Instagram page, and the selfie she took with us. The caption read, ‘Meeting THE cutest green eyed maid at the Green Eyed Maid Inn!’ and it had garnered 75,000 likes.

“What?” Avery asked, looking instinctively at my phone before I could close the app. She stared at the image, and then slowly looked up at me. “Um... Hey Rye? Is there something you wanna talk about?”