Chapter 6 - The Woman Who Was Never Just the Maid
Victor's arrest detonated quietly across Boston.
The documents connected him to fraud, extortion, bribery, and Samuel's death.
The evidence concerning my father's death remained inconclusive, exactly as Samuel had warned.
I refused to turn uncertainty into revenge.
Victor would spend enough years answering for the crimes we could prove.
Three weeks later, I found Tessa packing again.
I stood in the doorway of her room.
“No.”
She looked over her shoulder.
“No what?”
“No suitcase.”
“That's not how employment works.”
“You aren't employed.”
“Exactly.”
I frowned.
She continued folding clothes.
Victor was in custody.
Arthur was cooperating with investigators.
Tessa was safe.
Which apparently meant she could leave.
I hated that.
“Where are you going?”
“I found an apartment.”
“Where?”
“Cambridge.”
“No.”
She stared at me.
“Did you just reject the city?”
“Too far.”
“It's twenty minutes away.”
“With traffic?”
“Luca.”
I leaned against the doorframe.
My sleeves were rolled up, exposing the tattoos along both forearms.
Her eyes briefly dropped to them.
“You're staring.”
“I've seen them before.”
“You spent four years pretending you hadn't.”
“I spent four years pretending I hadn't seen most things.”
“Why?”
“Survival.”
That answer ended the joke.
I stepped inside.
“You don't need to do that anymore.”
“I know.”
“Then stay.”
Her expression softened.
“As what?”
The question stopped me.
Not maid.
Never again.
I thought about the hallway lamp.
The gray shirt.
The medication.
The soup.
The woman who had quietly constructed a home around me while I had been too arrogant to notice.
“I don't know.”
She smiled sadly.
“That's the problem.”
“Tessa.”
“You miss what I did for you.”
“No.”
“You didn't know me.”
“That was my mistake.”
“And now?”
“Now I'd like to.”
She looked down at the shirt she was folding.
“That isn't enough reason for me to stay in your house.”
“I know.”
I hated those two words.
Because she was right.
So I moved aside.
“Then go.”
She looked surprised.
“You're not going to argue?”
“I am exercising extraordinary personal growth.”
She laughed.
“I'm impressed.”
“Don't be. I hate it.”
She closed the suitcase.
I carried it downstairs.
At the front door, she stopped.
Mrs. Dorothy hugged her.
Brendan shook her hand.
Then Tessa looked at me.
“Take your medication.”
“I will.”
“That's a lie.”
“Probably.”
“Refill is in your desk.”
I stared at her.
“Tessa.”
“What?”
“You resigned a month ago.”
“I know.”
“You still refilled it?”
“You still need it.”
I shook my head.
“Unbelievable.”
She smiled.
“Goodbye, Luca.”
Not Mr. Moretti.
Luca.
She walked through the front door.
This time, I didn't follow.
That evening, the mansion was quiet.
I climbed the stairs.
The hallway was dark.
I stopped.
For years, I had thought the lamp was something Tessa left for me.
Only now did I understand.
It was something she had taught me.
A home wasn't the building.
It was the tiny acts someone performed when nobody was watching.
I turned the lamp on myself.
Then I went upstairs.
The next morning, I called Tessa.
She answered cautiously.
“Is something wrong?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“The soup.”
Silence.
“What about it?”
“Nobody can make it correctly.”
“Luca.”
“I'm serious.”
“Call Mrs. Dorothy.”
“She told me to call you.”
“She absolutely did not.”
“She absolutely did.”
Another silence.
Then:
“Are you asking me for the recipe?”
“No.”
“What are you asking?”
I looked at the empty chair across my breakfast table.
“Dinner.”
Tessa went quiet.
“With you?”
“Yes.”
“As your maid?”
“No.”
“Then as what?”
I smiled.
“As Tessa.”
A long pause.
Then she said:
“Friday. Seven.”
And hung up.
I stared at the phone.
Brendan walked past.
“What?”
I looked at him.
“Nothing.”
He glanced at my face.
“You're smiling.”
“Keep walking, Brendan.”
He kept walking.
May you like
Very quickly.
---
