Housekeeping Thank You Quotes

Don't feel that I am separated from you, Marmee dear, or that I love you any the less for loving John so much," she said, clinging to her mother, with full eyes for a moment. "I shall come every day, Father, and expect to keep my old place in all your hearts, though I am married. Beth is going to be with me a great deal, and the other girls will drop in now and then to laugh at my housekeeping struggles. Thank you all for my happy wedding day. Good-by, good-by!

That is a very different sort of housekeeper you have there,” Val said, when the library door had closed behind her. “I know.” Westhaven made a sandwich and checked again to make sure his brother hadn’t pilfered the marzipan. “She’s a little cheeky, to be honest, but does her job with particular enthusiasm. She puts me in mind of Her Grace.” “How so?” Val asked, making a sandwich, as well. “Has an indomitable quality about her,” Westhaven said between bites. “She bashed me with a poker when she thought I was a caller molesting a housemaid. Put out my lights, thank you very much.” “Heavens.” Val paused in his chewing. “You didn’t summon the watch?” “The appearances were deceiving, and she doesn’t know I’d never trifle with a housemaid.” “And if you were of a mind to before,” Val said, eyeing the marzipan, “you’d sure as hell think twice about it now.

be needed.’ I looked at her. I sensed how much she wanted me to deal with this case. And if I could go via Rolfswood . . . ‘I will do it,’ I said. ‘Thank you.’ She smiled gratefully and turned to the ladies. ‘Jane, please fetch Mistress Calfhill.’ ‘Now,’ she said to me quietly, ‘Bess Calfhill, whom you are about to meet, was an old servant of mine when I was Lady Latimer. A housekeeper at one of our properties in the north and later in London. She is a good, true woman, but she has recently suffered a great loss. Deal with her gently. If anyone deserves justice, it is Bess.’ The maid-in-waiting returned, bringing with her the woman I had seen in the presence chamber. She was small, frail looking. She approached with nervous steps, her hands held tightly together. ‘Come, good Bess,’ the Queen said in a welcoming voice. ‘This is Master Shardlake, a serjeant at law. Jane, bring over a chair. One for Serjeant Shardlake too.’ Mistress Calfhill lowered herself onto

He sat beside his brother and glanced at the notes. “The broken pew in the chapel has been repaired—you can cross that off the list. The keg of caviar arrived yesterday. It’s in the icehouse. I don’t know whether the extra camp chairs are here yet. I’ll ask Sims.” He paused to drink half his coffee in one swallow. “Where’s Kathleen? Still abed?” “Are you joking? She’s been awake for hours. At the moment she’s with the housekeeper, showing deliverymen where to set the flower arrangements.” A fond smile crossed Devon’s lips as he rolled the pencil against the tabletop with the flat of his hand. “You know my wife—every detail has to be perfect.” “It’s like staging a production at St. James’s Music Hall. Without, sadly, the chorus girls in pink tights.” West drained the rest of his coffee. “My God, will this day never end?” “It’s only six o’clock in the morning,” Devon pointed out. They both sighed. “I’ve never thanked you properly for marrying Kathleen at the registrar’s office,” West commented. “I want you to know how much I enjoyed it.” “You weren’t there.” “That’s why I enjoyed it.” Devon’s lips twitched. “I was glad not to have to wait,” he said. “But had there been more time, I wouldn’t have minded going through a more elaborate ceremony for Kathleen’s sake.” “Please. Shovel that manure in someone else’s direction.

Bailey,” I say, my voice carrying easily across the marble floor. “Wait.” She turns back and rolls her eyes, clearly annoyed to see me coming her way. She quickly wipes at her cheeks then holds up her hand to wave me off. “I’m off the clock. I don’t want to talk to you right now. If you want to chew me out for what happened back there, you’ll have to do it on Monday. I’m going home.” “How?” Her pretty brown eyes, full of tears, narrow up at me in confusion. “How what?” “How are you getting home? Did you park on the street or something?” Her brows relax as she realizes I’m not about to scold her. “Oh.” She turns to the window. “I’m going to catch the bus.” The bus? “The stop is just down the street a little bit.” “Don’t you have a car?” She steels her spine. “No. I don’t.” I’ll have to look into what we’re paying her—surely she should have no problem affording a car to get her to and from work. “Okay, well then what about an Uber or something?” Her tone doesn’t lighten as she replies, “I usually take the bus. It’s fine.” I look for an umbrella and frown when I see her hands are empty. “You’re going to get drenched and it’s freezing out there.” She laughs and starts to step back. “It’s not your concern. Don’t worry about me.” Yes, well unfortunately, I do worry about her. For the last three weeks, all I’ve done is worry about her. Cooper is to blame. He fuels my annoyance on a daily basis, updating me about their texts and bragging to me about how their relationship is developing. Relationship—I find that laughable. They haven’t gone on a date. They haven’t even spoken on the phone. If the metric for a “relationship” lies solely in the number of text messages exchanged then as of this week, I’m in a relationship with my tailor, my UberEats delivery guy, and my housekeeper. I’ve got my hands fucking full. “Well I’m not going to let you wait out at the bus stop in this weather. C’mon, I’ll drive you.” Her soft feminine laugh echoes around the lobby. “Thank you, but I’d rather walk.” What she really means is, Thank you, but I’d rather die. “It’s really not a request. You’re no good to me if you have to call in sick on Monday because you caught pneumonia.” Her gaze sheens with a new layer of hatred. “You of all people know you don’t catch pneumonia just from being cold and wet.” She tries to step around me, but I catch her backpack and tug it off her shoulder. I can’t put it on because she has the shoulder straps set to fit a toddler, so I hold it in my hand and start walking. She can either follow me or not. I tell myself I don’t care either way. “Dr. Russell—” she says behind me, her feet lightly tap-tap-tapping on the marble as she hurries to keep up. “You’re clocked out, aren’t you? Call me Matt.” “Doctor,” she says pointedly. “Please give me my backpack before I call security.” I laugh because really, she’s hilarious. No one has ever threatened to call security on me before. “It’s Matt, and if you’re going to call security, make sure you ask for Tommy. He’s younger and stands a decent chance of catching me before I hightail it out of here with your pink JanSport backpack. What do you have in here anyway?” It weighs nothing. “My lunchbox. A water bottle. Some empty Tupperware.” Tupperware. I glance behind me to check on her. She’s fast-walking as she trails behind me. Am I really that much taller than her? “Did you bring more banana bread?” She nods and nearly breaks out in a jog. “Patricia didn’t get any last time and I felt bad.” “I didn’t get any last time either,” I point out. She snorts. “Yeah well, I don’t feel bad about that.” I face forward again so she can’t see my smile.

Pff! Thank you, no. All the single men my age want either a trophy wife or a housekeeper, and I’m not doing either.

You couldn’t walk around with pain and hurt inside and expect to live a well-balanced life. “Thank you, Roddy. I appreciate that.” She sniffled. “My therapist told me that you need the pain and hurt to happen so that when the happiness and joy comes, you enjoy it knowing everything it took to have it.” I hugged her once more.

The housekeeper came to greet him, and he asked to see Beatrix. “The family is having dinner, sir--” the housekeeper began. “I don’t care. Either bring Miss Hathaway to me, or I’ll find her myself.” He had already resolved that the Hathaway household would do nothing to distract or divert him. No doubt after a summer spent with his cantankerous dog, they would hand Albert over without a qualm. As for Beatrix--he only hoped she would try to stop him, so that he could make a few things clear to her. “Would you care to wait in the front parlor, sir?” Christopher shook his head wordlessly. Looking perturbed, the housekeeper left him in the entrance hall. In no time at all, Beatrix appeared. She was wearing a white dress made of thin, flowing layers, the bodice wrapped intricately over the curves of her breasts. The translucence of her chest and upper arms gave her the look of emerging from the white silk. For a woman who had stolen his dog, she was remarkably composed. “Captain Phelan.” She stopped before him with a graceful curtsy. Christopher stared at her in fascination, trying to retain his righteous anger, but it was slipping away like sand through his fingers. “Where are your breeches?” he found himself asking in a husky voice. Beatrix smiled. “I thought you might come to fetch Albert soon, and I didn’t want to offend you by wearing masculine attire.” “If you were all that concerned about giving offense, you would have thought twice before abducting my dog.” “I didn’t abduct him. He went with me willingly.” “I seem to recall telling you to stay away from him.” “Yes, I know.” Her tone was contrite. “But Albert preferred to stay here for the summer. He has done very well with us, by the way.” She paused, looking him over. “How are you?” “I’m exhausted,” Christopher said curtly. “I’ve just arrived from London.” “Poor man. You must be famished. Come have dinner.” “Thank you, but no. All I want is to collect my dog and go home.” And drink myself into a stupor.

Will all you children come and visit and tell me more about the house?” “If you’d like,” Jessie said. “Someday maybe Grandfather will bring you to your old home so you can see it again.” “That would be my pleasure,” Grandfather said. Mrs. Collins stood and walked to the door with the Aldens. “Someday I will call you, and my housekeeper can drive me to the old house. I would like to see it again and to meet your cousins.” She kissed each of the children and shook Grandfather’s hand. “I can’t thank you enough for giving me back my father.” The Aldens got into Grandfather’s car and rode in silence for a while. Then Jessie said, “I’m so glad we found Celia.” The Mystery of the Singing Ghost

The wedding breakfast was on as fine a scale as she could wish, and in a quiet moment, Elizabeth drew to one side to thank the housekeeper. “Thank you for your hard work today, Mrs. Wilson. It must have been difficult to organise.

For Husbands: 1. Do you still "court" your wife with an occasional gift of flowers, with remembrances of her birthday and wedding anniversary, or with some unexpected attention, some unlooked-for tenderness? 2. Are you careful never to criticize her before others? 3. Do you give her money to spend entirely as she chooses, above the household expenses? 4. Do you make an effort to understand her varying feminine moods and help her through periods of fatigue, nerves, and irritability? 5. Do you share at least half of your recreation hours with your wife? 6. Do you tactfully refrain from comparing your wife's cooking or housekeeping with that of your mother or of Bill Jones' wife, except to her advantage? 7. Do you take a definite interest in her intellectual life, her clubs and societies, the books she reads, her views on civic problems? 8. Can you let her dance with and receive friendly attentions from other men without making jealous remarks? 9. Do you keep alert for opportunities to praise her and express your admiration for her? 10. Do you thank her for the little jobs she does for you, such as sewing on a button, darning your socks, and sending your clothes to the cleaners?

I could take a hand in certain household matters," she conceded. "In addition to working as your assistant." "You propose to do both?" In a gently sardonic tone, he asked, "Don't you think that might be too much work for one person to handle?" "People say that you do the work of six men," she shot back. "If that is true, I could certainly manage to do the work of two." "I am not offering you two positions. I am offering only one- that of housekeeper." Strangely, the authoritative statement made her smile. There was no mistaking the challenge in her eyes, but it was a friendly provocation, as if she knew somehow that he was not about to let her walk away. "No, thank you," she said. "I'll have what I want or nothing at all.

Instead, she gave Brisbane a tender look. “Mind you don’t wake the master. You’re not taking proper care of him. A wife ought to see her husband has a regular supper instead of stuffing him with toast and chocolate at all hours.” She banged out, and Brisbane opened an eye, grinning at me. I shoved his shoulder. “Stop. It isn’t decent that my lady’s maid should like you so much more than she does me.” “I am nicer to her than you are,” he pointed out. --- Brisbane uncovered a dish to find something unappetising looking back at him. He poked it tentatively with a fork. “What do you think it is?” “I daren’t guess,” I told him. “The undercook must still be at the helm in the kitchens. Toast for me, thanks.” He covered the dish up again, and we fell on the toast. “I can’t live on bread, Julia. Not if you mean to ravish me so thoroughly. A man has to keep his strength up.” I pulled a face. “Why don’t we walk down to the vicarage? Uncle Fly has an excellent housekeeper. Aunt Hermia’s tried to hire her away for years, but she won’t leave her post.. She’s devoted to Uncle Fly.” Brisbane was on his feet before I finished the sentence. We donned our outdoor things and hurried out of the Abbey.