Book Report: The Maid

9. Nita Prose, The Maid (2022) (5/13/22)

Well, I wanted something completely different from the last book, and I got it. I was beguiled by a review I saw somewhere in passing that mentioned the "lovable and quirky" heroine of this "smart, riveting, and refreshing" murder mystery. I bit.

And yes, all of the above is true. I enjoyed this book, though it's slight and light. But there's nothing wrong with that. It was, in fact, exactly what I wanted.

The story is straightforward: a young woman, Molly Gray, is happily and proudly employed as a maid at an upscale hotel. She is (though it's not stated as such) on the spectrum: she has trouble reading people, and she is honest to a T. Which gets her into trouble when she finds a guest dead in his suite. We learn about her relationships (real or imagined) with various other people at the hotel: a bartender she's enamored with, a Mexican dishwasher, the doorman, and . . . the dead man's wife. We learn about her beloved grandmother, who died not long ago but who taught Molly, via aphorisms and sayings, how to get by in life.

Suffice it to say, there are twists and turns—including one I did not expect at the very end (though there were foreshadowings of something).

Here's a brief, randomly chosen excerpt, from when the wife appears at Molly's door, in tears.

I rush to the kitchen, grab a tissue, and bring it to her. "A tissue for your issue," I say.
     "Oh my God, Molly," she replies. "You've got to stop saying that when people are upset. They'll take it the wrong way."
     "I only meant—"
     "I know what you meant. But other people won't."
     I'm quiet for a moment as I take this in, storing her lessons in the vault of my mind.
     We're still in the entranceway. I'm frozen in my spot, unsure of what to do next, what to say. If only Gran were here. . .
     "This is the part where you invite me into the living room," Giselle says. "You tell me to make myself at home or something like that."
     I feel the butterflies in my stomach. "I'm sorry," I say. "We don't . . . I don't have company very often. Or ever. Gran used to invite select friends round from time to time, but since she died, it's been rather quiet here." I don't tell her that she's the first guest to pass through the door in nine months, but that's the God's honest truth. She's also the first guest I've ever entertained on my own. Something occurs to me.
     "My gran always said, 'A good cup of tea will cure all ills, and if it doesn't, have another.' Would you like one?"

I worried that I'd grow weary of Molly's odd pluckiness, but there are enough characters and situations that I was entertained all the way through.