Bluebeard (1987)
““This is your two weeks’ notice,” she said.
What a blow! “What made you decide so suddenly?” I asked.
“Nothing sudden about it,” she said. “Celeste and I were about to leave right before Mrs. Berman came. It was so dead here. She made things exciting, so we stayed. But we’ve always said to each other: “When she goes, we go, too.””
“I really need you,” I said. “What could I do to persuade you to stay?” I mean: my God—they already had rooms with ocean views, and Celeste’s young friends had the run of the property, and no end of free snacks and refreshments. The cook could take any of the cars anytime she wanted to, and I was paying her like a movie star.
“You could learn my name,” she said.
What was going on? “Do what?” I said.
“Whenever I hear you talk about me, all you ever call me is “the cook.” I have a name. It’s ‘Allison White,’” she said.
“Goodness!” I protested with terrified joviality, “I know that perfectly well. That’s who I make out your check to every week.
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