QUIET TYPES (QUIET LOVE #1) BY L.H. COSWAY EPUB & PDF

QUIET TYPES (QUIET LOVE #1) BY L.H. COSWAY EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online

  • Status: Available for Free Download
  • Authors: L.H. COSWAY
  • Language: English
  • Genre: Contemporary romance
  • Format: PDF / EPUB
  • Size: 2.2 MB
  • Price: Free

Maggie
Anyone who’s lived in a busy city has, at one time or another, witnessed
someone walking down the street crying their eyes out.
I saw them frequently, these poor strangers, often while I stared out the
window of the bus I took to work each day. I’d wonder what had happened
to cause such a public display of emotion, walking the streets with stress
and grief written all over their faces. I wanted to ask them what went wrong
because I sympathised with them, but I didn’t truly understand their plight
until I was the person crying as I walked down the street.

I needed to clean myself up before I reached the bus stop; otherwise, he
might notice. The man I saw each day, who I thought about often. He was a
stranger I knew nothing about, a stranger who always watched me. I didn’t
want him to think I was a blubbering mess who let her boss drive her to
tears, but that was exactly what I was.

Normally, I could tolerate Mrs Reynolds’ meanness, letting her cruel
and stinging words wash right over me, but today was different. Today,
those words managed to penetrate my armour.

I cleaned houses for a living, and I liked most of my clients well
enough, but she was a different story. By all accounts, Mrs Reynolds had
the perfect life: a successful husband, three healthy children, and a large
house on Shrewsbury Road, one of the wealthiest neighbourhoods in
Dublin.

Despite all this, she still found it necessary to make life harder for the
woman who kept her home spotless. That woman being me, Maggie Lydon,
the thirty-one-year-old who lived alone in a studio flat and whose picture
would never grace the society pages of glossy magazines or news websites
like Sariah Reynolds’ picture did.

I was nobody, a scraping-by quiet type who didn’t bother anyone and
didn’t blame others for my minuscule lot in life. But that didn’t matter to
Mrs Reynolds.

It hadn’t always been this way with her. The first few weeks I worked
for her, she was reserved but polite towards me. Then slowly over time, her
mask came off, and the needling set in. Her criticisms were never personal,
at least. They were always about my performance as her cleaner, but
because none of my other clients complained as she did I soon realised I
wasn’t the problem. No matter who cleaned her house, Mrs Reynolds would
find a way to criticize that person, even if they were nothing but a loyal,
conscientious worker for her. Sometimes, I’d wonder why she was like that,
but perhaps the answer to that question was simple.

She enjoyed the power.
She found things to critique about the way I cleaned—like spots of nonexistent dust I missed or how the end of the toilet rolls I folded weren’t
quite sharp and pointy enough. How the couch was a millimetre off when I
pushed it back in after pulling it out to vacuum behind it.

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