The Maid A Novel (Nita Prose)

TheMaidisaworkoffiction.Names,characters,places,andincidentsaretheproductsoftheauthor’simaginationorareusedfictitiously.Anyresemblancetoactualevents,locales,orpersons,livingordead,isentirelycoincidental.Copyright?2022byNitaProseInc.Allrightsreserved.PublishedintheUnitedStatesbyBallantineBooks,animprintofRandomHouse,adivisionofPenguinRandomHouseLLC,NewYork.BALLANTINEandtheHOUSEcolophonareregisteredtrademarksofPenguinRandomHouseLLC.LIBRARYOFCONGRESSCATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATIONDATANames:Prose,Nita,author.Title:Themaid:anovel/NitaProse.Description:Firstedition.|NewYork:BallantineBooks,[2022]Identifiers:LCCN2020057416(print)|LCCN2020057417(ebook)|ISBN9780593356159(hardcover;acid-freepaper)|ISBN9780593356166(ebook)Subjects:GSAFD:Suspensefiction.Classification:LCCPR9199.4.P7768M352022(print)|LCCPR9199.4.P7768(ebook)|DDC813/.6—dc23LCrecordavailableathttps://lccn.loc.gov/2020057416LCebookrecordavailableathttps://lccn.loc.gov/2020057417EbookISBN?9780593356166randomhousebooks.comBookdesignbyVirginiaNorey,adaptedforebookCoverdesign:ElenaGiavaldiep_prh_6.0_138928805_c0_r0Contents
Cover
TitlePage
Copyright
Prologue
Monday
Chapter1Chapter2Chapter3Chapter4Chapter5
Tuesday
Chapter6Chapter7Chapter8Chapter9
Wednesday
Chapter10Chapter11Chapter12Chapter13Chapter14
Thursday
Chapter15Chapter16Chapter17Chapter18Chapter19Chapter20Chapter21Chapter22Chapter23Chapter24Chapter25
Friday
Chapter26
SeveralMonthsLater
Chapter27
Epilogue
Dedication
Acknowledgments
AbouttheAuthor
Iamyourmaid.I’mtheonewhocleansyourhotelroom,whoenterslikeaphantomwhenyou’reoutgallivantingfortheday,nocareatallaboutwhatyou’veleftbehind,themess,orwhatImightseewhenyou’regone.
I’mtheonewhoemptiesyourtrash,tossingoutthereceiptsyoudon’twantanyonetodiscover.I’mtheonewhochangesyoursheets,whocantellifyousleptinthemandifyouwerealonelastnightornot.I’mtheonewhostraightensyourshoesbythedoor,whopuffsupyourpillowsandfindsstrayhairsonthem.Yours?Notlikely.I’mtheonewhocleansupafteryoudrinktoomuchandsoilthetoiletseat,orworse.
WhenI’mdonewithmywork,Ileaveyourroompristine.Yourbedismadeperfectly,withfourplumppillows,asthoughnoonehadeverlainthere.Thedustandgrimeyouleftbehindhasbeenvacuumedintooblivion.Yourpolishedmirrorreflectsyourfaceofinnocencebackatyou.It’sasthoughyouwereneverhere.It’sasthoughallofyourfilth,allofyourliesanddeceits,havebeenerased
Iamyourmaid.Iknowsomuchaboutyou.Butwhenitcomesdowntoit:whatisitthatyouknowaboutme?
Iamwellawarethatmynameisridiculous.ItwasnotridiculousbeforeItookthisjobfouryearsago.I’mamaidattheRegencyGrandHotel,andmynameisMolly.MollyMaid.Ajoke.BeforeItookthejob,Mollywasjustaname,giventomebymyestrangedmother,wholeftmesolongagothatIhavenomemoryofher,justafewphotosandthestoriesGranhastoldme.GransaidmymotherthoughtMollywasacutenameforagirl,thatitconjuredapplecheeksandpigtails,neitherofwhichIhave,asitturnsout.I’vegotsimple,darkhairthatImaintaininasharp,neatbob.Ipartmyhairinthemiddle—theexactmiddle.Icombitflatandstraight.Ilikethingssimpleandneat.
Ihavepointedcheekbonesandpaleskinthatpeoplesometimesmarvelat,andIdon’tknowwhy.I’maswhiteasthesheetsthatItakeoffandputon,takeoffandputon,alldaylonginthetwenty-plusroomsthatImakeupfortheesteemedguestsattheRegencyGrand,afive-starboutiquehotelthatpridesitselfon“sophisticatedeleganceandproperdecorumforthemodernage.”
NeverinmylifedidIthinkI’dholdsuchaloftypositioninagrandhotel.Iknowothersthinkdifferently,thatamaidisalowlynobody.Iknowwe’reallsupposedtoaspiretobecomedoctorsandlawyersandrichreal-estatetycoons.Butnotme.I’msothankfulformyjobthatIpinchmyselfeveryday.Ireallydo.Especiallynow,withoutGran.Withouther,homeisn’thome.It’sasthoughallthecolorhasbeendrainedfromtheapartmentweshared.ButthemomentIentertheRegencyGrand,theworldturnsTechnicolorbright.
AsIplaceahandontheshiningbrassrailingandwalkupthescarletstepsthatleadtothehotel’smajesticportico,I’mDorothyenteringOz.IpushthroughthegleamingrevolvingdoorsandIseemytrueselfreflectedintheglass—mydarkhairandpalecomplexionareomnipresent,butablushreturnstomycheeks,myraisond’êtrerestoredoncemore.
OnceI’mthroughthedoors,Ioftenpausetotakeinthegrandeurofthelobby.Itnevertarnishes.Itnevergrowsdrabordusty.Itneverdullsorfades.Itisblessedlythesameeachandeveryday.There’sthereceptionandconciergetotheleft,withitsmidnight-obsidiancounterandsmart-lookingreceptionistsinblackandwhite,likepenguins.Andthere’stheamplelobbyitself,laidoutinahorseshoe,withitsfineItalianmarblefloorsthatradiatepristinewhite,drawingtheeyeup,uptothesecond-floorterrace.TherearetheornateArtDecofeaturesoftheterraceandthegrandmarblestaircasethatbringsyouthere,balustradesglowingandopulent,serpentstwistinguptogoldenknobsheldstaticinbrassjaws.Guestswilloftenstandattherails,handsrestingonaglowingpost,astheysurveythegloriousscenebelow—portersmarchingcrisscross,draggingsuitcasesbehindthem,guestslounginginsumptuousarmchairsorcouplestuckedintoemeraldloveseats,theirsecretsabsorbedintothedeep,plushvelvet.
Butperhapsmyfavoritepartofthelobbyistheolfactorysensation,thatfirstredolentbreathasItakeinthescentofthehotelitselfatthestartofeveryshift—themélangeofladies’fineperfumes,thedarkmuskoftheleatherarmchairs,thetangyzingoflemonpolishthat’susedtwicedailyonthegleamingmarblefloors.Itistheveryscentofanimus.Itisthefragranceoflifeitself.
Everyday,whenIarrivetoworkattheRegencyGrand,Ifeelaliveagain,partofthefabricofthings,thesplendorandthecolor.Iampartofthedesign,abright,uniquesquare,integraltothetapestry.
Granusedtosay,“Ifyouloveyourjob,you’llneverworkadayinyourlife.”Andshe’sright.Everydayofworkisajoytome.Iwasborntodothisjob.Ilovecleaning,Ilovemymaid’strolley,andIlovemyuniform.
There’snothingquitelikeaperfectlystockedmaid’strolleyearlyinthemorning.Itis,inmyhumbleopinion,acornucopiaofbountyandbeauty.Thecrisplittlepackagesofdelicatelywrappedsoapsthatsmelloforangeblossom,thetinyCrabtree&Evelynshampoobottles,thesquattissueboxes,thetoilet-paperrollswrappedinhygienicfilm,thebleachedwhitetowelsinthreesizes—bath,hand,andwashcloth—andthestacksofdoiliesforthetea-and-coffeeservicetray.Andlastbutnotleast,thecleaningkit,whichincludesafeatherduster,lemonfurniturepolish,lightlyscentedantisepticgarbagebags,aswellasanimpressivearrayofspraybottlesofsolventsanddisinfectants,alllinedupandreadytocombatanystain,beitcoffeerings,vomit—orevenblood.Awell-stockedhousekeepingtrolleyisaportablesanitationmiracle;itisacleanmachineonwheels.AndasIsaid,itisbeautiful.
Andmyuniform.IfIhadtochoosebetweenmyuniformandmytrolley,Idon’tthinkIcould.Myuniformismyfreedom.Itistheultimateinvisibilitycloak.AttheRegencyGrand,it’sdrycleaneddailyinthehotellaundry,whichislocatedinthedankbowelsofthehoteldownthehallfromourhousekeepingchangerooms.EverydaybeforeIarriveatwork,myuniformishookedonmylockerdoor.Itcomeswrappedinclingyplastic,withalittlePost-itnotethathasmynamescrawledonitinblackmarker.Whatajoyitistoseeitthereinthemorning,mysecondskin—clean,disinfected,newlypressed,smellinglikeamixtureoffreshpaper,anindoorpool,andnothingness.Anewbeginning.It’sasthoughthedaybeforeandthemanydaysbeforethathaveallbeenerased.
WhenIdonmymaiduniform—notthefrumpyDowntonAbbeystyleoreventhePlayboy-bunnycliché,buttheblinding-whitestarcheddressshirtandtheslim-fitblackpencilskirt(madefromstretchyfabricforeasybending)—Iamwhole.OnceI’mdressedformyworkday,Ifeelmoreconfident,likeIknowjustwhattosayanddo—atleast,mostofthetime.AndonceItakeoffmyuniformattheendoftheday,Ifeelnaked,unprotected,undone.
Thetruthis,Ioftenhavetroublewithsocialsituations;it’sasthougheveryoneisplayinganelaborategamewithcomplexrulestheyallknow,butI’malwaysplayingforthefirsttime.Imakeetiquettemistakeswithalarmingregularity,offendwhenImeantocompliment,misreadbodylanguage,saythewrongthingatthewrongtime.It’sonlybecauseofmygranthatIknowasmiledoesn’tnecessarilymeansomeoneishappy.Sometimes,peoplesmilewhenthey’relaughingatyou.Orthey’llthankyouwhentheyreallywanttoslapyouacrosstheface.Granusedtosaymyreadingofbehaviorswasimproving—everydayineveryway,mydear—butnow,withouther,Istruggle.Before,whenIrushedhomeafterwork,I’dthrowopenthedoortoourapartmentandaskherquestionsI’dsavedupovertheday.“I’mhome!Gran,doesketchupreallyworkonbrass,orshouldIsticktosaltandvinegar?Isittruethatsomepeopledrinkteawithcream?Gran,whydidtheycallmeRumbaatworktoday?”
Butnow,whenthedoortohomeopens,there’sno“Oh,Mollydear,Icanexplain”or“LetmemakeyouapropercuppaandI’llanswerallofthat.”Nowourcozytwo-bedroomfeelshollowandlifelessandempty,likeacave.Oracoffin.Oragrave.
Ithinkit’sbecauseIhavedifficultyinterpretingexpressionsthatI’mthelastpersonanyoneinvitestoaparty,eventhoughIreallylikeparties.Apparently,Imakeawkwardconversation,andifyoubelievethewhispers,Ihavenofriendsmyage.Tobefair,thisisonehundredpercentaccurate.Ihavenofriendsmyage,fewfriendsofanyage,forthatmatter.
Butatwork,whenI’mwearingmyuniform,Iblendin.Ibecomepartofthehotel’sdécor,liketheblack-and-white-stripedwallpaperthatadornsmanyahallwayandroom.Inmyuniform,aslongasIkeepmymouthshut,Icanbeanyone.Youcouldseemeinapolicelineupandfailtopickmeouteventhoughyouwalkedbymetentimesinoneday.
Recently,Iturnedtwenty-five,“aquarterofacentury”mygranwouldproclaimtomenowifshecouldsayanythingtome.Whichshecan’t,becausesheisdead.
Yes,dead.Whycallitanythingotherthanwhatitis?Shedidnotpassaway,likesomesweetbreezeticklingtheheather.Shedidnotgogently.Shedied.Aboutninemonthsago.
Thedayafterherdeathwasalovely,balmyday,andIwenttowork,asusual.Mr.AlexanderSnow,thehotelmanager,wassurprisedtoseeme.Heremindsmeofanowl.Hehastortoiseshellglassesthatareverylargeforhissquatface.Histhinninghairisslickedback,withawidow’speak.Nooneelseatthehotellikeshimmuch.Granusedtosay,Nevermindwhatothersthink;it’swhatyouthinkthatmatters.AndIagree.Onemustlivebyherownmoralcode,notfollowlikeasheep,blindly.
“Molly,whatareyoudoinghere?”Mr.SnowaskedwhenIshowedupforworkthedayafterGrandied.“I’msosorryforyourloss.Mr.Prestontoldmethatyourgrandmotherpassedawayyesterday.Ialreadycalledinareplacementforyourshift.Iassumedyou’dtaketodayoff.”
“Mr.Snow,whydidyouassume?”Iasked.“AsGranusedtosay,whenyouassume,youmakeanA-S-SoutofUandME.”
Mr.Snowlookedlikehewasgoingtoregurgitateamouse.“Pleaseacceptmycondolences.Andareyousureyoudon’twantthedayoff?”
“ItwasGranwhodied,notme,”Ireplied.“Theshowmustgoon,youknow.”
Hiseyeswidened,whichperhapssuggestsshock?I’llneverunderstandit—whypeoplefindthetruthmoreshockingthanlies.
Still,Mr.Snowrelented.“Asyouwish,Molly.”
Afewminuteslater,Iwasdownstairsinoneofthehousekeepingchangeroomsdonningmymaid’suniformasIdoeveryday,asIdidjustthismorning,asI’lldotomorroweventhoughsomeoneelse—notmygran—diedtoday.Andnotathomebutatthehotel.
Yes.That’sright.Todayatwork,Ifoundaguestverydeadinhisbed.Mr.Black.TheMr.Black.Otherthanthat,myworkdaywasasnormalasever.
Isn’titinterestinghowoneseismiceventcanchangeyourmemoryofwhatoccurred?Workdaysusuallyslidetogether,thedailytasksblendingintooneanother.ThetrashbinsIemptyonthefourthfloormeldintothoseonthethird.IwouldswearI’mcleaningSuite410,thecornerroomthatoverlooksthewestsideofthestreet,butactuallyI’mattheotherendofthehotel,inRoom430,theeast-sidecornerroom,whichisthemirrorinverseofSuite410.Butthensomethingoutoftheordinaryoccurs—suchasfindingMr.Blackverydeadinhisbed—andsuddenlythedaycrystalizes,turnsfromgastosolidinaninstant.Everymomentbecomesmemorable,uniquefromalltheotherdaysofworkthatcamebefore.
Itwastoday,aroundthreeintheafternoon,nearingtheendofmyshift,whentheseismiceventoccurred.I’dcleanedallofmyassignedroomsalready,includingtheBlacks’penthouseonthefourthfloor,butIneededtoreturntothesuitetofinishcleaningtheirbathroom.
Don’tthinkforamomentthatI’msloppyordisorganizedinmyworkjustbecauseIcleanedtheBlackpenthousetwice.WhenIcleanaroom,Iattackitfromtoptobottom.Ileaveitspotlessandpristine—nosurfaceleftunwiped,nogrimeleftbehind.Cleanlinessisnexttogodliness,mygranusedtosay,andIbelievethat’sabettertenettolivebythanmost.Idon’tcutcorners,Ishinethem.Nofingerprintlefttoerase,nosmearlefttoclear.
Soit’snotthatIsimplygotlazyanddecidednottocleantheBlacks’bathroomwhenIscouredtherestoftheirsuitethismorning.Aucontraire,thebathroomwasguest-occupiedatthetimeofmyfirstsanitationvisit.Giselle,Mr.Black’scurrentwife,hoppedintheshowersoonafterIarrived.Andwhileshegrantedmepermission(moreorless)tocleantherestofthepenthousewhileshebathed,shelingeredforratheralongtimeintheshower,somuchsothatsteambegantosnakeandbillowoutofthecrackatthebottomofthebathroomdoor.
—
Mr.CharlesBlackandhissecondwife,GiselleBlack,arelongtimerepeatguestsattheRegencyGrand.Everyoneinthehotelknowsthem;everyoneinthewholecountryknowsofthem.Mr.Blackstays—orrather,stayed—withusforatleastaweekeverymonthwhileheoversawhisreal-estateaffairsinthecity.Mr.Blackis—was—afamousimpresario,amagnate,atycoon.HeandGiselleoftengracedthesocietypages.He’dbedescribedas“amiddle-agedsilverfox,”though,tobeclear,heisneithersilvernorafox.Giselle,meanwhile,wasoftdescribedas“ayoung,lithetrophysocialite.”
Ifoundthisdescriptioncomplimentary,butwhenGranreadit,shedisagreed.WhenIaskedwhy,shesaid,It’swhat’sbetweenthelines,notonthem.
Mr.andMrs.Blackhavebeenmarriedashorttime,abouttwoyears.WeattheRegencyGrandhavebeenfortunatethatthisesteemedcoupleregularlygraceourhotel.Itgivesusprestige.Whichinturnmeansmoreguests.WhichinturnmeansIhaveajob.
Once,overtwenty-threemonthsago,whenwewerewalkingintheFinancialDistrict,GranpointedoutallthebuildingsownedbyMr.Black.Ihadn’trealizedheownedaboutaquarterofthecity,butalas,hedoes.Ordid.Asitturnsout,youcan’townpropertywhenyou’reacorpse.
“HedoesnotowntheRegencyGrand,”Mr.SnowoncesaidaboutMr.BlackwhenMr.Blackwasstillverymuchalive.Mr.Snowpunctuatedhiscommentwithafunnylittlesniff.Ihavenoideawhatthatsniffwassupposedtomean.OneofthereasonswhyI’vebecomefondofMr.Black’ssecondwife,Giselle,isbecauseshetellsmethingsplainly.Andsheusesherwords.
Thismorning,thefirsttimeIenteredtheBlacks’penthouse,Icleaneditfromtoptobottom—minustheoccupiedbathroombecauseGisellewasinit.Shedidnotseemherselfatall.Inoteduponmyarrivalthathereyeswereredandpuffy.Allergies?Iwondered.Orcoulditbesadness?Giselledidnotdally.Rather,soonuponmyarrival,sheranofftothebathroomandslammedthedoorshutbehindher.
Ididnotallowherbehaviortointerferewiththetaskathand.Onthecontrary,Igottoworkimmediatelyandcleanedthesuitevigorously.Whenitwasinperfectorder,IstoodoutsidetheclosedbathroomdoorwithaboxoftissuesandcalledouttoGisellethewayMr.Snowhadtaughtme.“Yourroomshavebeenrestoredtoastateofperfection!I’llreturnlatertocleanthebathroom!”
“Okay!”Gisellereplied.“Noneedtoyell!Jeez!”Whensheeventuallyemergedfromthebathroom,Ihandedheratissueincaseshewasindeedallergicorupset.Iexpectedabitofaconversation,becausesheisoftenquitetalkative,butshequicklywhiskedherselfawaytothebedroomtogetdressed.
Ileftthesuitethenandworkedthroughthefourthfloor,roomafterroom.Ifluffedpillowsandpolishedgiltmirrors.Ispritzedsmudgesandstainsfromwallpaperandwalls.Ibundledsoiledsheetsandmoisttowels.Idisinfectedporcelaintoiletsandsinks.
Halfwaythroughmyworkonthatfloor,Itookabriefrespitetodelivermytrolleytothebasement,whereIdroppedofftwolarge,heavybagsofsulliedsheetsandtowelsatthelaundry.Despitetheairlessnessofthebasementquarters,conditionsaggravatedbythebrightfluorescentlightsandverylowceilings,itwasarelieftoleavethosebagsbehind.AsIheadedbacktothecorridors,Ifeltagreatdeallighter,ifataddewy.
IdecidedtopayavisittoJuanManuel,adishwasherinthekitchen.Izoomedthroughthelabyrinthinehalls,makingthefamiliarturns—left,right,left,left,right—ratherlikeaclevertrainedmouseinamaze.WhenIreachedthewidekitchendoorsandpushedthrough,JuanManuelstoppedeverythingandimmediatelygotmealargedrinkofcoldwaterwithice,whichIappreciatedgreatly.
Afterashortandagreeablechat,Ilefthim.Ithenreplenishedmycleantowelsandsheetsinthehousekeepingquarters.Next,upIwenttothefresherairofthesecondfloortobegincleaninganewsetofrooms,whichsuspiciouslyyieldedonlysmallchangeintips,butmoreonthatlater.
BythetimeIcheckedmywatch,itwasaroundthreeo’clock.ItwastimetocirclebacktothefourthfloorandcleanMr.andMrs.Black’sbathroom.Ipausedoutsidetheirdoortolistenforevidenceofoccupancy.Iknocked,asperprotocol.“Housekeeping!”Isaidinaloudbutpolitelyauthoritativevoice.Noreply.Itookmymasterkeycardandbuzzedintotheirsuite,draggingmytrolleybehindme.
“Mr.andMrs.Black?MayIcompletemysanitationvisit?Iwouldverymuchliketoreturnyourroomtoastateofperfection.”
Nothing.Clearly,orsoIthought,husbandandwifewereout.Allthebetterforme.Icoulddomyworkthoroughlyandwithoutdisturbance.Ilettheheavydoorclosebehindme.Isurveyedtheirsittingroom.ItwasnotasI’dleftitafewhoursearlier,neatandclean.Thecurtainshadbeendrawnagainsttheimpressivefloor-to-ceilingwindowsoverlookingthestreetbelow,andtherewereseveralsmallminibarbottlesofscotchknockedoverontheglasstable,atumblerbesideithalf-empty,anunsmokedcigarbesidethat,acrumplednapkinonthefloor,andadivotonthedivanwherethedrinker’sbottomhadleftitsmark.Giselle’syellowpursewasnolongerwhereI’dseenitinthemorning,onthebureaubytheentrance,whichmeantshewastraversingthetown.
Amaid’sworkisneverdone,IthoughttomyselfasIpulledthepillowoffthedivan,plumpedit,returnedittoitsspot,andsmoothedanylingeringdivanimperfections.Beforecleaningupthetable,Idecidedtocheckthestateoftheotherrooms.ItwaslookingverymuchlikeI’dhavetocleantheentiresuitefromscratch.
Iheadedtothebedroomatthebackofthesuite.Thedoorwasopen,andoneofthehotel’splush,whitebathrobeswasstrewnonthefloorjustoutsidethethreshold.Frommyvantagepoint,Icouldseethebedroomcloset,withonedoorstillopen,exactlyasI’dleftitinthemorningbecausethesafeinsidewasalsoopenandwaspreventingtheclosetdoorfromclosingproperly.Someofthesafe’scontentswerestillintact—Icouldseethatmuchimmediately—buttheobjectsthathadcausedmesomeconsternationinthemorningwerenotablymissing.Insomeways,thiswasarelief.Iturnedmyattentionawayfromthecloset,steppedcarefullyoverthebathrobeonthefloor,andenteredthebedroom.
AndonlythendidIseehim.Mr.Black.Hewaswearingthesamedouble-breastedsuithehadonearlierwhenhebowledmeoverinthehallway,onlythepaperinhisbreastpocketwasgone.Hewaslyingdown,flatonhisbackonthebed.Thebedwascreasedanddisheveled,asthoughhe’dtossedandturnedalotbeforesettlingonhisback.Hisheadwasrestingononepillow,nottwo,andtheothertwopillowswereaskewbesidehim.Iwouldhavetolocatethemandatoryfourthpillow,whichImostcertainlyputonthebedthismorningwhenImadeit,becausethedevilis,astheysay,inthedetails.
Mr.Black’sshoeswereoff,ontheothersideoftheroom.Irememberthatdistinctlybecauseoneshoepointedsouthandtheothereast,andimmediatelyIknewitwasmyprofessionaldutytopointbothshoesinthesamedirection,andsmoothoutthenastytangleoflacesbeforeIlefttheroom.
Ofcourse,myfirstthoughtuponbeholdingthisscenewasnotthatMr.Blackwasdead.Itwasthathewasnappingsoundlyafterhavingenjoyedmorethanoneafternoontippleinthesittingroom.ButuponfurtherobservationInotedsomeotherodditiesintheroom.OnthebedsidetabletotheleftofMr.Blackwasanopenbottleofmedication,abottleIrecognizedasGiselle’s.Varioussmallbluepillshadcascadedoutofthebottle,somelandingonthebedsidetableandothersonthefloor.Acoupleofpillshadbeentrampled,reducedtoafinepowderthatwasnowgroundintothecarpet.Thiswouldrequirehighvacuumsuction,followedbyaspotofcarpetdeodorizertoreturnthecarpetpiletoastateofperfection.
Itisn’toftenthatIenterasuitetofindaguestsoundasleepinbed.Ifanything,muchtomydismay,it’smorecommonthatIstumbleacrossguestsinanotherstateentirely—inflagrante,astheysayinLatin.Mostguestswhodecidetosleeportoengageinprivateactivitiesarecourteousenoughtoemploythe“DoNotDisturb:Zzzing”doorhangerIalwaysleaveonthefrontbureauforsucheventualities.AndmostguestscalloutimmediatelyifIinadvertentlycatchthemataninopportunemoment.ButnotsowithMr.Black;hedidnotcalloutandordermeto“buggeroff,”whichishowhewouldnormallydismissmeifIarrivedatthewrongtime.Instead,heremainedsoundlyasleep.
ItwasthenthatIrealizedIhadnotheardhimbreatheduringthetensecondsormoreI’dbeenstandingathisbedroomdoor.Idoknowsomethingaboutsoundsleepers,becausemygranhappenedtobeone,butnosleeperrestssodeeplythathegivesupbreathingentirely.
IthoughtitprudenttocheckonMr.Blackandensurethathewasquiteallright.This,too,isamaid’sprofessionalduty.Itookasmallstepforwardtoscrutinizehisface.That’swhenInoticedhowgrayheappeared,howpuffyandhow…distinctlyunwell.Igingerlymovedevencloser,righttohisbedside,whereIloomedoverhim.Hiswrinkleswereentrenched,hismouthdrawndowninascowl,thoughforMr.Blackthatcanhardlybeconsideredunusual.Therewerestrangelittlemarksaroundhiseyes,likeredandpurplepinpricks.Onlythendidmymindsuddenlyringalarmbells.ItwasatthatmomentthatIfullycuedtothedisturbingfactthattherewasmorewrongwiththissituationthanI’drealizedattheoutset.
IeasedahandforwardandtappedMr.Black’sshoulder.Itfeltrigidandcold,likeapieceoffurniture.IputmyhandinfrontofhismouthinthedesperatehopethatI’dfeelsomebreathcomeoutofhim,buttonoavail.
“No,no,no,”IsaidasIputtwofingerstohisneck,checkingforapulse,whichIdidnotfind.Itookhimbytheshouldersandshook.“Sir!Sir!Wakeup!”Itwasasillythingtodo,nowthatIthinkaboutit,butatthetimeitstillseemedlargelyimpossiblethatMr.Blackcouldactuallybedead.
WhenIlethimgo,heplunkeddown,hisheadbangingeversoslightlyagainsttheheadboard.Ibackedawayfromthebedthen,myownarmsrigidbymysides.
Ishuffledtotheotherbedsidetable,wheretherewasaphone,andIcalleddowntothefrontdesk.
“RegencyGrand,Reception.HowcanIhelpyou?”
“Goodafternoon,”Isaid.“I’mnotaguest.Idon’tusuallycallforhelp.ThisisMolly,themaid.I’minthepenthousesuite,Suite401,andI’mdealingwitharatherunusualsituation.Anuncommonmess,ofsorts.”
“WhyareyoucallingReception?CallHousekeeping.”
“IamHousekeeping,”Isaid,myvoicerising.“Please,ifyoucouldalertMr.Snowthatthere’saguestwhois…permanentlyindisposed.”
“Permanentlyindisposed?”
Thisiswhyit’salwaysbesttobedirectandclearatalltimes,butinthatmoment,IcanadmitthatI’dlostmyhead,temporarily.
“Heisverydead,”Isaid.“Deadinhisbed.CallMr.Snow.Andpleasedialemergencyservices.Immediately!”
Ihungupafterthat.Tobehonest,whathappenednextallfeelssurrealanddreamlike.Irecallmyheartclanginginmychest,theroomtiltinglikeaHitchcockfilm,myhandsgoingclammyandthereceiveralmostslippingfrommygraspasIputitbackinitsplace.
ItwasthenthatIlookedup.Onthewallinfrontofmewasagilt-framedmirror,reflectingnotonlymyterrifiedfacebackatmebuteverythingI’dfailedtonoticebefore.
Thevertigogotworsethen,thefloortiltinglikeafunhouse.Iputahandtomychest,afutileattempttostillmytremblingheart.
It’seasierthanyou’deverthink—existinginplainsightwhileremaininglargelyinvisible.That’swhatI’velearnedfrombeingamaid.Youcanbesoimportant,socrucialtothefabricofthingsandyetbeentirelyoverlooked.It’satruththatappliestomaids,andtoothersaswell,soitseems.It’satruththatcutsclosetothebone.
Ifaintednotlongafterthat.TheroomwentdarkandIsimplycrumpled,asIsometimesdowhenconsciousnessbecomesoverwhelming.
Now,asIsithereinMr.Snow’sluxuriousoffice,myhandsareshaking.Mynervesarefrayed.What’srightisright.What’sdoneisdone.Butstill,Itremble.
IemployGran’smentaltricktosteadymyself.Wheneverthetensiongotunbearableinafilm,she’dgrabtheremotecontrolandfast-forward.“There,”she’dsay.“Nopointjanglingournerveswhentheending’sinevitable.Whatwillbewillbe.”Thatistrueofthemovies,butlesstrueinreallife.Inreallife,theactionsyoutakecanchangetheresults,fromsadtohappy,fromdisappointingtosatisfactory,fromwrongtoright.
Gran’strickservesmewell.Ifast-forwardandpickupmymentalreplayatjusttherightspot.Mytremblingimmediatelysubsides.Iwasstillinthesuitebutnotinthebedroom.Iwasbythefrontdoor.Irushedbackintothebedroom,grabbedthephonereceiverforthesecondtime,andcalleddowntoReception.Thistime,IdemandedtospeakwithMr.Snow.WhenIheardhisvoiceonthelinesaying,“Hello?Whatisit?”Imadesuretobeveryclear.
“ThisisMolly.Mr.Blackisdead.Iaminhisroom.Pleasecallemergencyservicesimmediately.”
Approximatelythirteenminuteslater,Mr.Snowenteredtheroomwithasmallarmyofmedicalpersonnelandpoliceofficersfilinginbehindhim.Heledmeaway,guidingmebytheelbowlikeasmallchild.
Andnow,hereIsitinhisofficejustoffthemainlobbyinafirmandsqueakymaroonleatherhigh-backedchair.Mr.Snowleftsometimeago—perhapsanhour,maybemore?Hetoldmetostayputuntilhereturned.Ihavealovelycupofteainonehandandashortbreadbiscuitintheother.Ican’trememberwhobroughtthemtome.Itakethecuptomylips—it’swarmbutnotscalding,anidealtemperature.Myhandsarestilltremblingslightly.Whomademesuchaperfectcupoftea?WasitMr.Snow?Orsomeoneelseinthekitchen?PerhapsJuanManuel?MaybeitwasRodneyatthebar,alovelythought—Rodneybrewingmeaperfectcupoftea.
AsIgazedownattheteacup—aproperporcelainone,decoratedwithpinkrosesandgreenthorns—Isuddenlymissmygran.Terribly.
Iputtheshortbreadbiscuittomylips.Itcrunchesnicelybetweenmyteeth.Thetextureiscrisp,theflavordelicateandbuttery.Overall,itisadelightfulbiscuit.Ittastessweet,ohsoverysweet.
IremainaloneinMr.Snow’soffice.Imustsay,Iamconcernedtoberunningsobehindonmyroom-cleaningquota,nottomentiononmytipcollection.Usually,bythistimeinmyworkday,I’dhavecleanedatleastafullfloorofrooms,butnottoday.Iworrywhattheothermaidswillthinkandifthey’llhavetopickuptheslack.Somuchtimehaspassed,andMr.Snowstillhasn’tcometofetchme.Itrytosettlethefearthat’sbubblinginmystomach.
Itoccurstomethatagoodwaytosortmyselfistotrackbackthroughmyday,recollectingtothebestofmyabilityeverythingthatoccurreduptothemomentIfoundMr.BlackdeadinhisbedinSuite401.
Todaystartedoutasanordinaryday.Icamethroughthestatelyrevolvingdoorsofthehotel.Technically,employeesaresupposedtousetheservicedoorattheback,butfewemployeesdo.ThisisaruleIenjoybreaking.
Ilovethecoldfeelingofthepolishedbrassbanistersleadingupthescarletstepsofthehotel’smainentrance.Ilovethesquishoftheplushcarpetundermyshoes.AndIlovegreetingMr.Preston,theRegencyGrand’sdoorman.Portly,dressedinacapandalongtrenchcoatadornedwithgoldhotelcrests,Mr.Prestonhasworkedatthehotelforovertwodecades.
“Goodmorning,Mr.Preston.”
“Oh,Molly.HappyMondaytoyou,mydeargirl.”Hetipshishat.
“Haveyouseenyourdaughterrecently?”
“Why,yes.WehaddinneronSunday.She’sarguingacaseincourttomorrow.Istillcan’tbelieveit.Mylittlegirl,standingupthereinfrontofajudge.IfonlyMarycouldseehernow.”
“Youmustbeproudofher.”
“ThatIam.”
Mr.Prestonwaswidowedmorethanadecadeago,butheneverremarried.Whenpeopleaskwhynot,hisanswerisalwaysthesame:“MyheartbelongstoMary.”
He’sanhonorableman,agoodman.Notacheater.HaveImentionedhowmuchIdetestcheaters?Cheatersdeservetobethrowninquicksandandtosuffocateinfilth.Mr.Prestonisnotthatkindofman.He’sthekindyou’dwantasafather,thoughI’mhardlyanexpertonthatsubject,giventhatI’veneverhadafatherinmylife.Minedisappearedatthesametimemymotherdid,whenIwas“justaweebiscuit”asmygranusedtosay,whichIhavecometounderstandassometimebetweentheageofsixmonthstoayear,atwhichpointGrantookovermycareandwebecameaunit,Granandme,meandGran.Untildeathdiduspart.
Mr.PrestonremindsmeofGran.Heknewhertoo.It’sneverbeencleartomehowtheymet,butGranwasfriendlywithhimandquiteclosewithhiswife,Mary,may-she-rest-in-peace.
IlikeMr.Prestonbecauseheinspirespeopletobehaveproperly.Ifyou’rethedoormanatafine,upstandinghotel,youseealotofthings.Likebusinessmenbringinginsultryyoungplaythingswhentheirmiddle-agedwivesareathousandmilesaway.Likerockstarssodrunktheymistakethedoorman’spodiumforaurinal.LiketheyoungandbeautifulMrs.Black—thesecondMrs.Black—exitingthehotelinarush,mascararunningdownhertear-stainedcheeks.
Mr.Prestonapplieshispersonalcodeofconducttolaydownthelaw.Ionceheardarumorthathegotsomadatthatsamerockstarthathetippedoffthepaparazzi,whoswarmedthestarsomuchheneverstayedattheRegencyGrandagain.
“Mr.Preston,isittrue?”Ionceasked.“Wereyoutheonewhocalledthepaparazzithattime?”
“Neveraskwhatagentlemandidordidn’tdo.Ifhe’satruegentleman,hediditwithgoodcause.Andifhe’satruegentleman,he’llnevertell.”
That’sMr.Preston.
Afterpassinghimthismorning,Iswungthroughthemassivefrontlobbyanddasheddownthestairsintothemazeofhallwaysleadingtothekitchen,thelaundryrooms,and,myfavoriteroomsofall,thehousekeepingquarters.Theymaynotbegrand—nobrass,nomarble,novelvet—butthehousekeepingroomsarewhereIbelong.
LikeIalwaysdo,Iputonmyfreshmaiduniformandcollectedmyhousekeepingtrolley,makingsureitwasreplenishedandreadyformyrounds.Itwasnotreplenished,whichisnosurprise,sincemysupervisor,CherylGreen,wastheoneonshiftlastnight.ChernobyliswhatmostemployeesattheRegencyGrandcallherbehindherback.Tobeclear,she’snotfromChernobyl.Infact,she’snotfromUkraineatall.She’slivedherentirelifeinthiscity,ashaveI.LetitbeknownthatwhileIdonotthinkhighlyofCheryl,Irefusetocallher—oranyone—names.Treatothersasyouwishtobetreated,Granusedtosay,andthat’satenetIliveby.I’vebeencalledmanyathinginmyquartercentury,andwhatI’velearnedisthatthecommonexpressionaboutsticksandstonesisbackward:sticksandstonesoftenhurtfarlessthanwords.
Cherylmaybemyboss,butshe’sdefinitelynotmysuperior.Thereisadifference,youknow.Youcan’tjudgeapersonbythejobtheydoorbytheirstationinlife;youmustjudgeapersonbytheiractions.Cherylisslovenlyandlazy.Shecheatsandcutscorners.Shedragsherfeetwhenshewalks.I’veactuallyseenhercleanaguest’ssinkwiththesameclothsheusedtocleantheirtoilet.Canyoubelievesuchathing?
“Whatareyoudoing?”IaskedthedayIcaughtherinflagrante.“That’snotsanitary.”
Shouldershrug.“Theseguestsbarelytip.This’llteachthem.”
Whichisillogical.Howaregueststoknowthattheheadmaidjustspreadmicroscopicfecalmatteraroundtheirsink?Andhowaretheytoknowthismeanstheyneedtotipbetter?
“Aslowtothegroundasasquirrel’sbehind,”iswhatGransaidwhenItoldheraboutCherylandthetoiletcloth.
Thismorning,uponmyarrival,mytrolleywasstillfullofdamp,soiledtowelsandusedsoapsfromthedaybefore.IfIwerethebossofthings,letmetellyouthis:Iwouldrelishthechancetorestockthetrolleys.
Ittookmesometimetoreplenishmywares,andbythetimeIwasfinished,Cherylwasfinallyarrivingforhershift,lateasusual,draggingherfloppyfeetbehindher.Iwonderedifshe’drushtothetopfloortodayassheusuallydid“todoherfirstrounds,”meaningtosneaktothepenthousesuitesthatareminetocleanandstealmybiggesttipsoffthepillows,leavingonlytheloosechangebehindforme.Iknowshedoesthis,thoughIcan’tproveit.That’sjustthekindofpersonsheis—acheater—andnottheRobinHoodkind.TheRobinHoodkindtakesforthegreatergood,restoringjusticetothosewho’vebeenwronged.Thiskindoftheftisjustified,whereasotherkindsarenot.Butmakenomistake:CherylisnoRobinHood.Shestealsfromothersforonereasononly—tobetterherselfattheexpenseofothers.Andthatmakesheraparasite,notahero.
IsaidmyhalfheartedhellotoCheryl,andthengreetedSunshineandSunitha,thetwoothermaidsonshiftwithme.SunshineisfromthePhilippines.
“WhyareyounamedSunshine?”Iaskedherwhenwefirstmet.
“Formybrightsmile,”shesaidassheputahandononehipandmadeaflourishwithherfeatherduster.
Icouldseeitthen,thesimilarity—howthesunandSunshineweresimilar.Sunshineisbrightandshiny.Shetalksalot,andguestsloveher.SunithaisfromSriLanka,andunlikeSunshine,shebarelysaysaword.
“Goodmorning,”I’llsaytoherwhenshe’sonshiftwithme.“Areyouwell?”
She’llnodonceandsayawordortwoandlittleelse,whichsuitsmejustfine.She’sagreeabletoworkwithandshedoesnotslackordillydally.Itakenoexceptiontoothermaids,providedtheydotheirjobswell.OnethingIwillsay:bothSunithaandSunshineknowhowtomakeuparoomspotlessly,which,maidtomaid,Irespect.
Oncemytrolleywasset,IrolleddownthehalltothekitchentovisitJuanManuel.Heisafinecolleague,alwaysquitepleasantandcollegial.Ileftmytrolleyoutsidethekitchendoors,thenIpeekedthroughtheglass.Therehewas,atthegiantdishwasher,pushingracksofdishesthroughitsmaw.Otherkitchenworkersmilledabout,carryingfoodtrayswithsilvercovers,freshtriple-layercakes,orotherdecadentdelights.JuanManuel’ssupervisorwasnowheretobeseen,sonowwasagoodtimetoenter.IcreptalongtheperimeteruntilIreachedJuanManuel’sworkstation.
“Hello!”Isaid,probablytooloudly,butIwantedtobeheardabovethewhirringmachine.
JuanManueljumpedandturned.“Híjole,youscaredme.”
“Isnowagoodtime?”Iasked.
“Yes,”hereplied,wipinghishandsonhisapron.Heranovertothelargemetalsink,grabbedacleanglass,andfilleditwithice-coldwater,whichhehandedtome.
“Oh,thankyou,”Isaid.Ifthebasementwaswarm,thekitchenwasaninferno.Idon’tknowhowJuanManueldoeshisjob,standingforhoursintheunbearableheatandhumidity,scrapinghalf-eatenfoodfromplates.Allthatwaste,allthosegerms.Ivisithimeveryday,andeverydayItrynottothinkaboutit.
“I’vegotyourkeycard.Room308,earlycheckouttoday.Iwillcleantheroomnowsoit’sreadyforyouwheneveryouwantit.Okay?”I’dbeenslippingJuanManuelkeycardsforatleastayear,eversinceRodneyexplainedJuanManuel’sunfortunatesituation.
“Amigamía,thankyousomuch,”JuanManuelsaid.
“You’llbesafeuntilninetomorrowmorning,whenCherylarrives.She’snotsupposedtocleanthatflooratall—butwithher,youjustneverknow.”
ItwasthenthatInoticedtheangrymarksonhiswrist,roundandred.
“Whatarethose?”Iasked.“Didyouburnyourself?”
“Oh!Yes.Iburnedmyself.Onthewasher.Yes.”
“Thatsoundslikeasafetyinfraction,”Isaid.“Mr.Snowisveryseriousaboutsafety.Youshouldtellhimandhe’llhavethemachinelookedat.”
“No,no,”JuanManuelreplied.“Itwasmymistake.Iputmyarmwhereitshouldn’tgo.”
“Well,”Isaid.“Dobecareful.”
“Iwill,”heanswered.
Hedidnotmakeeyecontactwithmeduringthispartoftheconversation,whichwasmostunlikehim.Iconcludedhewasembarrassedbyhismishap,soIchangedthesubject.
“Haveyouheardfromyourfamilylately?”Iasked.
“Mymothersentmethisyesterday.”Hepulledaphonefromhisapronpocketandcalledupaphoto.HisfamilylivesinnorthernMexico.Hisfatherdiedovertwoyearsago,whichleftthefamilyshortofincome.JuanManuelsendsmoneyhometocompensate.Hehasfoursisters,twobrothers,sixaunts,sevenuncles,andonenephew.He’stheoldestofhissiblings,aboutmyage.Thephotoshowedtheentirefamilyseatedaroundaplastictable,allofthemsmilingforthecamera.Hismotherstoodattheheadofthetableproudlyholdingaplatterofbarbecuedmeat.
“ThisiswhyI’mhere,inthiskitchen,inthiscountry.SomyfamilycaneatmeatonSundays.Ifmymothermetyou,Molly,she’dlikeyourightaway.Mymotherandme?Wearealike.Weknowgoodpeoplewhenweseethem.”Hepointedtohismother’sfaceinthephoto.“Look!Sheneverstopssmiling,nomatterwhat.Oh,Molly.”
Tearscametohiseyesthen.Ididn’tknowwhattodo.Ididn’twanttolookatanymorepicturesofhisfamily.EverytimeIdid,Ifeltanoddsensationinthepitofmystomach,thesamefeelingIgotwhenIonceaccidentallyknockedaguest’searringintotheblackholeofadrain.
“Imustbeoff,”Isaid.“Twenty-oneroomstocleantoday.”
“Okay,okay.Itmakesmehappywhenyouvisit.Seeyousoon,MissMolly.”
Irushedoutofthekitchentothequiet,brighthallwayandtheperfectorderofmytrolley.Instantly,Ifeltmuchbetter.
ItwastimetogototheSocial,therestaurantbarandgrillinsidethehotel,whereRodneywouldbestartinghisshift.RodneyStiles,headbartender.Rodney,withhisthick,wavyhair,hiswhitedressshirtwiththetopbuttonstastefullyundone,revealingjustalittleofhisperfectlysmoothchest—well,almostperfectlysmooth,minusonesmallroundscaronhissternum.Anyhow,thepointis,heisn’thairy.Howanywomancouldlikeahairymanisbeyondme.NotthatI’mprejudiced.I’mjustsayingthatifamanIfanciedwashairy,I’dgetthewaxout,andI’dripthestripsoffhimuntilhewascleanandbare.
Ihavenotyethadtheopportunitytodothisinreallife.I’vehadonlyoneboyfriend,Wilbur.Andwhilehedidn’thavechesthair,heturnedouttobeaheartbreaker.Andaliarandacheat.Soperhapschesthairisn’ttheworstthingintheworld.
IbreathedeeplytocleansemymindofWilbur.I’mblessedwiththisability—tocleanmymindasIwouldaroom.Ipictureoffensivepeopleorrecalluncomfortablemoments,andIwipethemaway.Gone.Erased,justlikethat.Mymindisreturnedtoastateofperfection.
ButasIsithere,inMr.Snow’soffice,waitingforhimtoreturn,I’mhavingtroublekeepingmymindclean.ItreturnstothoughtsofMr.Black.Tothefeelingofhislifelessskinonmyfingers.Andsoon.
Itakeasipofmytea,whichisnowcold.Iwillfocusoncemoreonthemorning,onrememberingeverydetail….WherewasI?
Ah,yes.JuanManuel.AfterIlefthim,Iheadedtotheelevatorwithmytrolley,takingituptothelobby.ThedoorsopenedandMr.andMrs.Chenwerestandingthere.TheChensareregularguests,justliketheBlacks,thoughtheChensarefromTaiwan.Mr.Chensellstextiles,soI’mtold.Mrs.Chenalwaystravelswithhim.Thatday,shewaswearingawine-coloreddresswithalovelyblackfringe.TheChensarealwaysflawlesslypolite,acharacteristicIfindexceptional.
Theyacknowledgedmerightaway,which,letmejustsay,israreforhotelguests.TheyevensteppedasidesoIcouldexittheelevatorbeforetheyentered.
“Ithankyouforbeingrepeatguests,Mr.andMrs.Chen.”
Mr.Snowtaughtmetogreetguestsbyname,totreatthemasIwouldfamilymembers.
“Itiswewhothankyouforkeepingourroomsoorderly,”saidMr.Chen.“Mrs.Chengetstorestwhileshe’shere.”
“I’mgettinglazy.Youdoeverythingforme,”Mrs.Chensaid.
Iamnotoneforattention-seekingbehavior.Iprefertoacknowledgeacomplimentwithanod,orsilence.Atthatmoment,Inodded,curtsied,andsaid,“Pleaseenjoyyourstay.”
TheChensshuffledontotheelevatorandthedoorsclosed.
Thelobbywasmoderatelybusy,withnewguestsarrivingandsomecheckingout.Ataglance,itappearedcleanandorderly.Notouch-upsrequired.Sometimes,however,guestswillleaveanewspaperinastateofdisarrayonasidetable,ordiscardacoffeecuponthecleanmarblefloor,whereitspillsitslastdropsandleavesanominousblot.WheneverInoticesuchinfelicities,Iaddressthemimmediately.Strictlyspeaking,cleaningthelobbyisnotmyjob,butasMr.Snowhassaid,goodemployeesthinkoutsideofthebox.
IpushedmytrolleytotheentranceoftheSocialBar&Grillandparkedit.Rodneywasbehindthebar,readinganewspaperspreadonthebartop.
IwalkedinbrisklytoshowthatIamawomanwithconfidenceandasenseofpurpose.
“I’vearrived,”Isaid.
Helookedup.“Oh,heyMolly.Hereforthemorningpapers?”
“Yourassumptionisonehundredpercentcorrect.”Everyday,IpickedupastackofnewspaperstodelivertoguestroomsasImademyrounds.
“Haveyouseenthis?”heasked,pointingtothenewspaperinfrontofhim.HewearsaveryshinyRolexwatch.EventhoughI’mnotmuchofabrandperson,I’mwellawarethatRolexisanexpensivebrand,whichmustmeanMr.SnowrecognizesRodney’ssuperiorabilitiesasabartenderandpayshimmorethanausualbartender’ssalary.
IlookedattheheadlineRodneypointedat:“FAMILYFEUDROCKSBLACKEMPIRE.”
“MayIseethat?”
“Sure.”Heturnedthearticlemyway.Itfeaturedseveralphotos,alargeoneofMr.Blackinhisclassicdouble-breastedsuit,fendingoffreporterswhowerestickingcamerasinhisface.Gisellewasonhisarm,perfectlystyledfromheadtotoe,wearingdarksunglasses.Judgingfromheroutfit,thephotowastakenrecently.Perhapsyesterday?
“Looksliketrouble’sbrewingintheBlackfamily,”Rodneysaid.“Seemshisdaughter,Victoria,isforty-ninepercentshareholderoftheBlackbusinessempire,andhewantsthosesharesback.”
Iscannedthearticle.TheBlackshadthreechildren,allofthemgrown-up.OneoftheboyslivedinAtlanticCity,theotherflittedfromThailandtotheVirginIslandsorwhereverelsethepartyhappenedtobe.Inthearticle,Mrs.Black—thefirstMrs.Black—describedhertwosonsas“flakes”andwasquotedsaying,“TheonlywayBlackProperties&Investmentswillsurviveisifmydaughter,Victoria,whoessentiallyalreadyrunstheorganization,becomesahalfshareholder,atleast.”ThearticlewentontodescribethenastylegaljabsbetweenMr.Blackandhisex-missus.Ahostofotherpowermagnateswerereferencedinthearticle,rallyingononesideortheother.ThearticlesuggestedthatMr.Black’ssecondmarriagetoGiselletwoyearsago—awomanlessthanhalfhisage—markedthebeginningofdestabilizationwithintheBlackempire.
“PoorGiselle,”Isaidaloud.
“Right?”Rodneyreplied.“Shedoesn’tneedthis.”
Athoughtoccurredtome.“Howwelldoyouknowher,Giselle?”
Rodneywhiskedthepaperawayandsliditunderthebar,bringingoutafreshstackformetotakeupstairs.“Who?”
“Giselle,”Isaid.
“Mr.Blackdoesn’tlethercomedownheretothebar.YouprobablyhavemorecontactwithherthanIdo.”
Hewasright.Idid.Ido.Anunlikelyandpleasingbond—dareIsayfriendship?—hasrecentlyformedbetweenus,betweentheyoungandbeautifulGiselleBlack,secondwifeoftheinfamouspropertymogul,andme,Molly,insignificantroommaid.Idon’ttalkaboutourbondmuchbecauseMr.Preston’sadageappliesequallytogentlewomenastogentlemen:besttokeepmylipspressedshut.
IwaitedforRodneytoextendtheconversation,leavingthekindofampleroomthatasingle-but-not-desperatefemalemightleaveweresheromanticallyinterestedintheeligiblebachelorbeforeherwhosecolognehintedofbergamotandexoticmasculinemystique.
Iwasnotdisappointed—notentirely,atleast.
“Molly,yournewspapers.”Heleanedonthebar,themusclesinhisforearmscontractingattractively.(Sincethiswasabarandnotadinnertable,theno-elbows-on-the-tableruledidnotapply.)“AndMolly,bytheway,thanks.Forwhatyou’redoingtohelpmyfriend,JuanManuel.You’rereallya…specialgirl.”
IfeltasurgeofwarmthrushtomycheeksasifGranhadjustpinchedthem.“I’ddothesameforyou,probablymore.Imean,that’swhatyoudoforfriends,right?Youhelpthemoutofbinds?”
Heputoneofhishandsonmywristandsubtlysqueezed.ThesensationwasextremelypleasingandIrealizedsuddenlyhowlongithadbeensinceI’dbeentouchedatall,byanyone.HepulledawaylongbeforeIwasready.Iwaitedforhimtosaysomethingmore,toaskmeonanotherdate,perhaps?IwantednothingmorethanasecondrendezvouswithRodneyStiles.Ourfirstoccurredwelloveroneyearagoandremainsahighlightofmyadultlife.
ButIwaitedinvain.Heturnedtothecoffeestationandbeganmakingafreshpot.
“You’dbettergetupstairs,”hesaid.“OrChernobyl’sgoingtodropabombonyou.”
Ilaughed—moreofaguffaw/cough,actually.IwaslaughingwithRodney,notatCheryl,whichsurelymadeitokay.
“Speakingwithyouhasbeendelightful,”IsaidtoRodney.“Perhapswecandoitanothertime?”Iprompted.
“Youbet,”hesaid.“I’mhereallweek,haha.”
“Ofcourseyouare,”Isaid,matter-of-factly.
“Itwasajoke,”herepliedwithawink.
ThoughIdidnotgetthejoke,Imostdefinitelyunderstoodthewink.Ifloatedoutofthebarandcollectedmytrolley.Icouldhearmyheartinmyears,theexcitementpumping.
ThroughthelobbyIwheeled,noddingatguestsasIwalked.“Discreetcourtesy,invisiblebutpresentcustomerservice,”Mr.Snowoftensays.ThisisamannerI’vecultivated,thoughImustadmititcomesrathereasilytome.Ibelievemygrantaughtmealotaboutthiswayofbeing,thoughthehotelhasofferedmeampleopportunitytopracticeandperfect.
Thismorning,IcarriedahappytuneinmyheadasItooktheelevatoruptothefourthfloor.IheadedtoMr.andMrs.Black’ssuite,Suite401.JustasIwasabouttoknockontheirdoor,itopened,andMr.Blackstormedout.Hewasdressedinhistrademarkdouble-breastedsuit,withapaperstickingoutofhisleftbreastpocket,onit,theword“DEED”inlittlecurlicueletters.Henearlyknockedmeoverwiththebruteforceofhisexit.
“Outofmyway.”
Heoftendidthis—bowledmeoverortreatedmelikeIwasinvisible.“Myapologies,Mr.Black,”Isaid.“Haveanenjoyableday.”
Istuckmyfootinthedoortokeepitopen,thendecidedIshouldstillknock.“Housekeeping!”Icalled.
Gisellewasseatedonthedivaninthesittingroom,wearingabathrobe,herheadinherhands.Wasshecrying?Iwasnotentirelysure.Herhair—sleek,long,anddark—wasdisheveled.Itmademequitenervous,herhairinthatstate.
“Isthisagoodtimeformetoreturnyoursuitetoastateofperfection?”Iasked.
Gisellelookedup.Herfacewasred,hereyesswollen.Shegrabbedherphoneofftheglasstabletop,gotup,andrantothebathroom,slammingthedoorbehindher.Sheswitchedonthefan,which,Inoted,soundedloudandclunky.IwouldhavetoreportthattotheMaintenanceDepartment.Next,sheturnedontheshower.
“Wellthen!”Icalledloudlythroughthebathroomdoor.“Ifyoudon’tmind,I’lljusttidyupinherewhileyouprepareyourselftoseizetheday!”
Noanswer.
“Isaid,I’lljustcleaninhere!Sinceyouhaven’tactuallyansweredme….”
Nothing.ItwasunlikeGiselletobehaveinthismanner.ShewasusuallyquitetalkativewheneverIcleanedhersuite.She’dengagemeinconversation,andinherpresence,IfeltsomethingIrarelydidwithothers.Ifeltcomfortable—likeIwassittingathomeonthesofawithGran.
Icalledouttoheronemoretime.“Mygranalwayssaidthatthebestwaytofeelbetterisbytidyingup!Ifyoufeelsad,justgrabaduster,Buster!”
Butshecouldn’thearmeabovetherunningwaterandtheclunkywhirringofthefan.
Ibusiedmyselfwithcleaning,startinginthesittingroom.Theglasstabletopwasamessofsmudgesandfingerprints.People’spropensitytogeneratefilthneverceasestoamazeme.Igrabbedmyammoniabottleandsettowork,returningthetabletoahighandmightyshine.
Isurveyedtheroom.Thecurtainswereopen.Fortunately,thewindowshadnotbeensmearedbyfingerprints,whichwasatleastoneblessing.Onthebureaubythedoorweresomeenvelopes,opened.Arippedcornerlaycurledonthefloor.Iretrieveditandthrewitinthetrash.BesidethecorrespondencewasGiselle’syellowpursewiththegoldchain-linkstrap.Itlookedvaluable,butyou’dneverknowitfromthewaysheflungitabout.Thezipperatthetopwasopen,andstickingoutwasaflightitinerary.I’mnotonetosnoop,butIcouldn’thelpnoticeitwasfortwoone-wayflightstotheCaymanIslands.Werethismypurse,Iwouldalwaysclosethezipperandmakesuremypreciousvaluablesweren’tabouttofallout.Itookituponmyselftoplacethepurseexactlyparalleltothemailandarrangethechainstrapneatly.
Isurveyedtheroom.Thecarpethadbeenwelltrampled—thepiledisturbedonbothsides,asifsomeone,Mr.BlackorGiselleorboth,hadbeenpacingbackandforth.Itookmyvacuumfrommytrolleyandpluggeditin.
“Pardontheruckus!”Icalledout.
IvacuumedtheroominstraightlinesuntilthecarpetplumpedrightupandlookedlikeanewlysweptZengarden.I’veneveractuallyvisitedaZengardeninreallife,butGranandIusedtoholidaytogetheronthesofa,sidebysideinourlivingroom.
“Whereshallwetraveltonight?”shewouldask.“TotheAmazonwithDavidAttenboroughortoJapanwithNationalGeographic?”
ThatnightIchoseJapan,andGranandIlearnedallaboutZengardens.Thiswasbeforeshewassick,ofcourse.InolongerengageinarmchairtravelbecauseIcan’taffordcableorevenNetflix.EvenifIdidhavethemoney,itwouldn’tbethesametoarmchairtravelwithoutGran.
Rightnow,asIsitinMr.Snow’sofficereplayingmyday,itstrikesmeagainjusthowodditwasthatGisellestayedinthebathroomforsolongthismorning.Itwasalmostasthoughshedidn’twanttospeakwithme.
Aftervacuuming,Imovedontothebedroom.Thebedwasrumpled,notiponthepillows,whichwasadisappointment.IwilladmitthatI’vecometocountonthegeneroustipsfromtheBlacks.They’vegottenmethroughthelastfewmonthsnowthatI’maone-salaryhouseholdandcan’tcountonGran’searningstohelppaytherent.
Isetaboutremovingthebedsheetsandcrisplymadeupthebed,completewithperfecthospitalcornersandfourplump,hotel-standardpillows—twohard,twosoft,twopillowseach,forhusbandandwife.Theclosetdoorwasajar,butwhenIwenttoshutit,Icouldn’tbecausethesafeinsidewasopen.Icouldseeonepassportinsidethesafe,nottwo,somedocumentsthatlookedverylegal,andseveralstacksofmoney—crisp,new$100notes,atleastfivestacksintotal.
It’shardtoadmitthis,eventomyself,butIaminthemidstofafinancialcrisis.AndwhileI’mnotproudofthefact,itisneverthelessthetruththatthepilesofmoneysittinginthatsafetemptedme,somuchsothatItidiedtherestoftheroomasfastasIcould—shoespointingstraight,negligeefoldedonthedressingchair,andsoon,justsoIcouldleavethebedroomandfinishcleaningtherestofthesuitequickly.
Ireturnedtothesittingroom,whereItendedtothebarandtheminifridge.FivesmallbottlesofBombayginweremissing(hers,Ipresumed)andthreeminibottlesofscotch(definitelyhis).Ireplenishedthestockandthenemptiedallthetrashcans.
Iheardtheshowerturnoff,atlonglast,andthefanaswell.AndthenIheardtheunmistakablesoundofGisellesobbing.
Shesoundedverysad,soIannouncedthatthesuitewasclean,tookatissueboxfrommytrolley,andwaitedoutsidethebathroomdoor.
Eventually,sheemerged.Shewaswrappedinoneofthehotel’sfluffywhitebathrobes.I’vealwayswonderedwhatitmustbeliketowearoneofthoserobes;itmustfeellikebeinghuggedbyacloud.Shehadabathtowelaroundherhair,too,inaperfectswirl,likemyfavoritetreat—icecream.
Iheldthetissueboxouttoher.“Needatissueforyourissue?”Iasked.
Shesighed.“You’resweet,”shesaid.“Butatissueisn’tgoingtocutit.”
Shewalkedaroundmeandintothebedroom.Icouldhearherrootingaroundinherarmoire.
“Areyouquiteallright?”Iasked.“CanIhelpyouinanyway?”
“Nottoday,Molly.Idon’thavetheenergy.Okay?”
Hervoicewasdifferent,likeaflattireifitcouldtalk,whichofcourseitcan’texceptincartoons.Itwasevidenttomethatshewasmostupset.
“Verywell,”Isaidinachippervoice.“MayIcleanyourbathroomnow?”
“No,Molly.I’msorry.Please,notrightnow.”
Ididnottakethispersonally.“I’llcomebacklatertocleanitthen?”
“Goodidea,”shesaid.
Icurtsiedinresponsetohercompliment,thenretrievedmytrolleyandbuzzedmyselfoutthedoor.
Isetaboutcleaningtheotherroomsandsuitesonthatfloor,feelingincreasinglyunsettledasIdidso.WhatwaswrongwithGiselle?Normally,shetalkedaboutwhereshewasgoingthatday,whatshewasdoing.Shesolicitedmyopinionaboutwhethersheshouldwearthisorthat.Shesaidpleasingthings.“MollyMaid,there’snoonelikeyou.You’rethebest,andneverforgetit.”Thewarmthwouldrisetomyface.I’dfeelmychestexpandabitwitheverykindword.
ItwasalsounlikeGiselletoforgettotipme.
We’reallentitledtoabaddaynowandagain,IheardGransayinmyhead.Butwhentheyareallbaddays,withnopleasantones,thenit’stimetoreconsiderthings.
ImovedontoMr.andMrs.Chen’sroomafewdoorsdown.Cherylwasjustabouttoenter.
“Iwasgoingtotakethedirtysheetsdownstairsforyou,asafavor,”shesaid.
“That’squiteallright,I’vegotit,”Ireplied,pushingpastherwithmytrolley.“Butthankyouforyourkindness.”Ibuzzedthrough,allowingthedoortoshutabruptlyonherscowlingface.
OnthepillowintheChens’bedroomwasacrisptwenty-dollarbill.Forme.Anacknowledgmentofmywork,ofmyexistence,ofmyneed.
“That’skindness,Cheryl,”IsaidoutloudasIfoldedthetwentyandtuckeditintomypocket.AsIcleaned,IfantasizedaboutallthethingsIwoulddo—spraybleachinherface,strangleherwithabathrobetie,pushheroffthebalcony—ifeverIcaughtCherylred-handed,stealingtipsfromoneofmyrooms.
IhearfootstepscomingdownthehallwaytowardMr.Snow’soffice,whereIremainobedientlyseatedinoneofMr.Snow’ssqueakymaroonhigh-backedleatherchairs.Idon’tknowhowlongI’vebeenhere—itfeelslikemorethanonehundredandtwentyminutes—andwhileI’vetriedmybesttodistractmyselfwiththoughtsandrecollections,mynervesareincreasinglyfrayed.Mr.Snowstepsin.“Molly,thankyouforwaiting.You’vebeenverypatient.”
It’sonlythenthatIrealizethereissomeonebehindhim,afigureindarkblue.Thefigurestepsforward.It’sapoliceofficer,afemale.She’slarge,imposing,withbroadathleticshoulders.There’ssomethingabouthereyesthatIdonotlike.I’musedtopeoplelookingpastme,aroundme,butthisofficer,shelooksrightatme—dareIsaythroughme?—inadeeplyunsettlingmanner.Theteacupinmyhandisstonecold.Myhandsarecoldtoo.
“Molly,thisisDetectiveStark.Detective,thisisMollyGray.She’stheonewhofoundMr.Black.”
I’mnotsurewhattheprotocolisforgreetingadetective.I’vereceivedtrainingfromMr.Snowonhowtogreetbusinessmen,headsofstate,andInstagramstars,butneverdidhementionwhattodointhecaseofdetectives.ImustresorttomyowningenuityandmymemoriesofColumbo
Istand,thenrealizetheteacupisstillinmyhand.IshuffleovertoMr.Snow’smahoganydesk,whereI’mabouttoplaceitdown,butthereisnocoaster.Ispotthecoastersontheothersideoftheroomonashelffilledwithsumptuous,leather-boundvolumesthatwouldbelaborioustocleanbutalsoquitesatisfying.Itakeonecoaster,returntoMr.Snow’sdesk,placeitdown,squareittothedesk’scorner,andthensetmyrose-ornamentedcupuponit,carefulnottospillsomuchasadropofthecoldtea.
“There,”Isay.ThenIapproachthedetectiveandmeetherdiscerningeye.“Detective,”Isay,justastheydoontelevision.Iperformasomewhatcurtsybyplacingonefootbehindtheotherandnoddingmyheadcurtly.
ThedetectiveglancesatMr.Snowthenbackatme.
“Whatanawfuldayforyou,”thedetectivesays.Hervoiceisnotwithoutwarmth,Idon’tthink.
“Oh,itwasn’tallawful,”Isay.“I’vejustbeenrunningthroughitinmymind.Itwasactuallymostlypleasant,untilapproximatelythreeo’clock.”
ThedetectivelooksatMr.Snowagain.
“Shock,”hesays.“She’sinshock.”
PerhapsMr.Snowiscorrect.ThenextthoughtIhavesuddenlyseemsmosturgenttoarticulateoutloud.“Mr.Snow,thankyousomuchforthecupofteaandthelovelyshortbreadbiscuit.Didyoubringthem?Ordidsomeoneelse?Itrulyenjoyedboth.MayIask,whatbrandistheshortbread?”
Mr.Snowclearshisthroat.Thenhesays,“Thosearemadeinourownkitchens,Molly.Iwouldbehappytobringyoumoreanothertime.Butrightnow,it’simportanttodiscusssomethingelse.Rightnow,DetectiveStarkhasafewquestionsforyou,seeingashowyouwerefirstonthesceneofMr.Black’s…ofhis…”
“Deathbed,”Isay,helpfully.
Mr.Snowlooksdownathiswell-polishedshoes.
Thedetectivecrossesherarms.Idobelievehereyesaredrillingintomineinameaningfulway,yetI’mnotsurewhatthatmeaningisexactly.IfGranwerehere,Iwouldaskher.Butsheisnothere.Shewillneverbehereagain.
“Molly,”Mr.Snowsays.“You’renotintroubleinanyway.Butthedetectivewouldliketotalktoyouasawitness.Perhapstherearedetailsyounoticedaboutthesceneoraboutthedaythatwouldbehelpfultotheinvestigation.”
“Theinvestigation,”Isay.“DoyoupresumetoknowhowMr.Blackdied?”Iask.
DetectiveStarkclearsherthroat.“Ipresumenothingatthispoint.”
“Howverysensible,”Isay.“Soyoudon’tthinkthatMr.Blackwasmurdered?”
DetectiveStark’seyesopenwide.“Well,it’smorelikelyhediedofaheartattack,”shesays.“There’spetechialhemorrhagingaroundhiseyesconsistentwithcardiacarrest.”
“Petechialhemorrhaging?”Mr.Snowasks.
“Tinybruisesaroundtheeyes.Happensduringaheartattack,butitcanalsomean…otherthings.Atthispoint,wedon’tknowanythingforsure.We’llbedoingathoroughinvestigationtoruleoutfoulplay.”
ThisputsmeinmindofaveryfunnyjokethatGranusedtotell:WhatdoyoucallapoorrenditionofHamletperformedbychickens?Fowlplay.
Ismileattherecollection.
“Molly,”saysMr.Snow.“Doyourealizethegravityofthissituation?”Hiseyebrowsknittogether,andthenIrealizewhatI’vedone,howmysmilehasbeenmisinterpreted.
“Myapologies,sir,”Iexplain.“Iwasthinkingofajoke.”
Thedetectiveuncrossesherarmsandplacesbothhandssquarelyonherhips.Again,shestaresatmeinthatwayofhers.“I’dliketobringyoutothestation,Molly,”shesays.“Totakeyourwitnessstatement.”
“I’mafraidthatwon’tbepossible,”Isay.“Ihaven’tcompletedmyshiftandMr.Snowcountsonmetodomyfairshareasamaid.”
“Oh,that’squiteallright,Molly,”Mr.Snowsays.“Thisisanexceptionalcircumstance,andIdoinsistthatyouhelpDetectiveStark.Wewillremunerateyouforyourfullshift,sodon’tworryaboutthat.”
It’sarelieftohearthis.Giventhecurrentstateofmyfinances,Isimplycan’taffordtolosewages.
“That’sverygoodofyou,Mr.Snow,”Isay.Thenanotherthoughtoccurstome.“SoI’mnotinanytrouble,isthatcorrect?”
“No,”saysMr.Snow.“Isn’tthatright,Detective?”
“No,notatall.Wejustneedtoknowwhatyousawtoday,whatyounoticed,especiallyatthescene.”
“YoumeaninMr.Black’ssuite?”
“Yes.”
“WhenIfoundhimdead.”
“Uh,yes.”
“Isee.WhereshallItakemysoiledteacup,Mr.Snow?I’mhappytoreturnittothekitchen.‘Neverleaveamesstobediscoveredbyaguest.’?”
I’mquotingfromMr.Snow’smostrecentprofessional-developmentseminar,butalas,hedoesn’tacknowledgemywittyrejoinder.
“Don’tworryaboutthecup.I’lltakecareofit,”hesays.
Andwiththat,thedetectiveleadstheway,usheringmeoutofMr.Snow’soffice,throughtheillustriousfrontlobbyoftheRegencyGrandHotelandouttheservicedoor.
Iaminthepolicestation.ItfeelsoddnottobeeitherattheRegencyGrandorathomeinGran’sapartment.Ihavetroublecallingit“myapartment,”butIsupposeit’sminenow.MineandminealoneforaslongasIcanmanagetopaytherent.
NowhereIaminaplaceI’veneverbeenbefore,aplaceIcertainlyneverexpectedtobeintoday—asmall,white,cinder-blockroomwithonlytwochairs,atable,andacameraintheupper-leftcorner,blinkingaredlightatme.Thefluorescentilluminationinhereistoosharpandblinding.WhileIhaveagreatappreciationofbrightwhiteindécorandclothing,thisstylechoiceisdefinitelynotworking.Whiteonlyworkswhenaroomisclean.Andmakenomistake:thisroomisfarfromclean.
Perhapsit’sanoccupationalhazard:Iseedirtwhereothersdon’t.Thestainsonthewallwhereablackbriefcaselikelygrazedit,thecoffeeringsonthewhitetableinfrontofme,tworound,browno’s.Thegraythumbprintssmearedaroundthedoorknob,thegeometrictreadsleftonthefloorfromanofficer’swetboots.
DetectiveStarkleftmeherejustafewmomentsago.Ourcarrideoverwaspleasantenough.Sheletmesitinthefrontofthecar,whichIappreciated.I’mnocriminal,thankyouverymuch,sothere’snoneedtotreatmelikeone.Shetriedtomakesmalltalkduringthedrive.I’mnotgoodatsmalltalk.
“SohowlonghaveyouworkedattheRegencyGrand?”sheasked.
“It’snowapproximatelyfouryears,thirteenweeks,andfivedays.Imaybeoffbyaday,butnomore.Icouldtellyouexactlyifyouhaveacalendar.”
“Notnecessary.”Sheshookherheadslowlyforafewseconds,whichItooktomeanI’dofferedtoomuchinformation.Mr.Snowtaughtme“KISS,”whichisn’twhatyouthink.ItstandsforKeepItSimple,Stupid.Tobeclear,hewasn’tcallingmestupid.HewassuggestingthatsometimesIoverexplain,whichI’velearnedcanbeannoyingtoothers.
Whenwereachedthestation,DetectiveStarkgreetedthereceptionist,whichwasrathergoodofher.Idoappreciatewhenso-calledsuperiorsproperlygreettheiremployees—Nooneistoohighortoolowforcommoncourtesy,Granwouldsay.
Oncewewereinthestation,thedetectiveledmetothissmallroomattheback
“CanIgetyouanythingbeforewebeginourchat?Howaboutacupofcoffee?”
“Tea?”Iasked.
“I’llseewhatIcando.”
Nowshe’sbackwithaStyrofoamcupinherhand.“Sorry,there’snoteatobehadinthiscopshop.Ibroughtyousomewaterinstead.”
AStyrofoamcup.IdetestStyrofoam.Thewayitsqueaks.Thewaydirtclingstoit.Thewayeventheslightestnickwithafingernailleavesapermanentscar,butIknowtobepolite.Iwon’tmakeafuss.
“Thankyou,”Isay.
Sheclearsherthroatandsitsinthechairacrossfrommine.ShehasayellownotepadandaBicpen,thetopchewed.Iwillmymindnottothinkabouttheuniverseofbacteriadwellingonthetopofthatpen.Sheputsherpaddownonthetable,thepenbesideit.Sheleansbackandlooksatmeinthatpenetratingwayofhers.
“You’renotinanytrouble,Molly,”shesays.“Ijustwantyoutoknowthat.”
“I’mwellaware,”Isay.
Theyellowpadisaskew,approximatelyforty-sevendegreesofffrombeingsquarewiththecornerofthetable.BeforeIcanstopthem,myhandsmovetorectifythisuntidiness,shiftingthepadsoit’sparallelwiththetable.Thepenisalsoaskew,butthereisnopoweronEarthgreatenoughtomakemetouchit.
DetectiveStarkwatchesme,herheadcockedtooneside.Thismaybeuncharitable,butshelookslikealargedoglisteningforsoundsintheforest.Eventually,shespeaks.
“ItseemstomethatMr.Snowmightberightaboutyou,thatyou’reinshock.It’scommonforpeopleinshocktohavetroubleexpressingtheiremotions.I’veseenitbefore.”
DetectiveStarkdoesnotknowmeatall.IsupposeMr.Snowdidn’ttellhermuchaboutmeeither.Shethinksmybehaviorispeculiar,thatI’moutofsortsbecauseIfoundMr.Blackdeadinhisbed.AndwhileitwasshockingandIamoutofsorts,I’mfeelingmuchbetternowthanIwasafewhoursago,andI’mmostcertainthatI’mbehavingquitenormallyindeed.
WhatIreallywantistogohome,tomakemyselfapropercupoftea,andperhapstextRodneyabouttheday’seventsinthehopesthathemightconsolemeinsomewayorofferhimselfforadate.Ifthatdoesn’ttranspire,notallislost.ImighttakeanicebathandreadanAgathaChristienovel—Granhassomanyofthem,allofwhichI’vereadmorethanonce.
Idecidenottoshareanyofthesethoughts.Instead,IagreewithDetectiveStarkinsofarasIcanwithoutcompletedeception.“Detective,”Isay,“youmayberightthatIaminshock,andI’msorryifyouthinkI’mnotquitemyself.”
“It’sperfectlyunderstandable,”shesays,andherlipsliftintoasmile—atleast,Ithinkit’sasmile?Icanrarelybecertain.
“I’dliketoaskyouwhatyousawwhenyouenteredtheBlacks’suitethisafternoon.Didyouseeanythingoutofplaceorunusual?”
Duringeachandeveryshift,Iencounterapanoplyofthingsthatare“outofplace”or“unusual”—andnotjustintheBlacksuite.Today,Ifoundacurtainrodrippedfromitshingesinaroomonthethirdfloor,acontrabandhotplateleftinplainsightonabathroomcounteronthefourthfloor,andsixverygigglyladiestryingtohideairmattressesunderabedinaroommeantfortwoguestsonly.Ididmyduediligenceandreportedalloftheseinfractions—andmore—toMr.Snow.
“YourdevotiontothehighstandardsoftheRegencyGrandknowsnobounds,”Mr.Snowsaid,buthedidnotsmile.Hislipsremainedaperfecthorizontalline.
“Thankyou,”Ireplied,feelingquitegoodaboutmyreport.
IconsiderwhatitisthedetectivereallywantstoknowandwhatI’mpreparedtodivulge.
“Detective,”Isay,“theBlacksuitewasinitsusualstateofdisarraywhenIenteredthisafternoon.Therewasn’tmuchoutoftheordinary,exceptthepillsonthebedsidetable.”
Iofferthisuponpurpose,becauseit’sadetailthateventhemostnitwittedinvestigatorwouldhavenoticedatthescene.WhatIdon’twanttodiscussaretheotherthings—therobeonthefloor,thesafebeingopen,themissingmoney,theflightitinerary,Giselle’spursebeinggonethesecondtimeIwentintotheroom.AndwhatIsawinthatmirrorinMr.Black’sbedroom.
I’vewatchedenoughmurdermysteriestoknowwhotheprimesuspectstendtobe.Wivesoftentopthelist,andthelastthingIwantistocastanydoubtonGiselle.She’sblamelessinallofthis,andshe’smyfriend.I’mworriedforher.
“We’relookingintothosepills,”thedetectivesays.
“They’reGiselle’s,”Isay,despitemyself.Icannotbelievehernamepoppedrightoutofmymouth.PerhapsIreallyaminshock,becausemythoughtsandmymoutharen’tworkingintandemthewaytheyusuallydo.
“HowdoyouknowthepillsareGiselle’s?”thedetectiveasks,neverlookingupfromthepadshewriteson.“Thecontainerwasn’tlabeled.”
“IknowbecauseIhandleallofGiselle’stoiletries.IlinethemupwhenIcleanthebathroom.Iliketoorganizethemfromtallesttosmallest,thoughI’llsometimesascertainfirstifaguestprefersadifferentmethodoforganization.”
“Adifferentmethod.”
“Yes,suchasmakeupproducts,medicines,feminine-hygieneproducts…”
DetectiveStark’smouthopensslightly.
“Orshavingimplements,moisturizers,hairtonics.Doyousee?”
Sheissilentfortoolong.She’slookingatmelikeI’mtheidiotwhenclearlyshe’stheoneunabletograspmyverysimplelogic.ThetruthisthatIknowthepillsareGiselle’sbecauseI’veseenherpopthemintohermouthseveraltimeswhileI’vebeeninherroom.Ievenaskedaboutthemonce.
“These?”shesaid.“TheycalmmedownwhenIfreakout.Wantone?”
Ipolitelydeclined.Drugsareforpainmanagementonly,andI’macutelyawareofwhatcanhappenwhenthey’reabused.
Thedetectivecarriesonwithherquestions.“WhenyouarrivedintheBlacks’room,didyougostraighttothebedroom?”
“No,”Isay.“Thatwouldbeagainstprotocols.First,Iannouncedmyarrival,thinkingthatperhapssomeonewasinthesuite.Asitturnsout,Iwasonehundredpercentcorrectonthatassumption.”
Thedetectivelooksatmeandsaysnothing.
Iwait.“Youdidn’twritethatdown,”Isay.
“Writewhatdown?”
“WhatIjustsaid.”
Shegivesmeanunreadablelook,thenpicksupherplumedepesteandjotsdownmywords,smackingthepenagainstthepadwhenshe’sdone.“Sothenwhat?”sheasks.
“Well,”Isay,“whennooneanswered,Iventuredintothesittingroom,whichwasquiteuntidy.Iwantedtocleanitup,butfirstIthoughtitrighttolookaroundtherestofthesuite.IwalkedintothebedroomandfoundMr.Blackinbed,asthoughhewereresting.”
Herchewedpencapwagsatmemenacinglyasshescratchesdownmywords.“Goon,”sheprompts.
IexplainhowIapproachedMr.Black’sbedside,checkedforbreath,forapulse,butfoundnone,howIcalleddowntoReceptionforhelp.Itellherallofit,uptoapoint.
Shewritesfuriouslynow,occasionallypausingtolookatme,puttingthatgermfactoryofapeninhermouthasshedoesso.
“Tellmesomething,doyouknowMr.Blackverywell?Haveyoueverhadconversationswithhim,beyondjustaboutcleaningtheirsuite?”
“No,”Ireply.“Mr.Blackwasalwaysaloof.Hedrankalotanddidnotseempartialtomeatall,soIstayedclearofhimasmuchaspossible.”
“AndGiselleBlack?”thedetectiveasked.
IthoughtofGiselle,ofallthetimeswe’dconversed,oftheintimaciesshared,hersandmine.That’showafriendshipisbuilt,onesmalltruthatatime.
Ithoughtbacktotheveryfirsttime,manymonthsago,whenImetGiselle.I’dcleanedtheBlacks’suitemanytimesbefore,butI’dneveractuallymetGiselle.Itwasinthemorning,probablyaroundnine-thirty,whenIknockedonthedoorandGiselleletmein.Shewaswearingasoftpinkdressinggownmadeofsatinorsilk.Herdarkhaircascadedontohershouldersinperfectwaves.Sheremindedmeofthestarletsintheoldblack-and-whitemoviesthatGranandIusedtowatchtogetherintheevenings.AndyettherewassomethingverycontemporaryaboutGiselleaswell,likeshebridgedtwoworlds.
SheinvitedmeinandIthankedher,rollingmytrolleyinbehindme.
“I’mGiselleBlack,”shesaid,offeringmeherhand.
Ididn’tknowwhattodo.Mostguestsavoidtouchingmaids,especiallyourhands.Theyassociateuswithotherpeople’sgrime—nevertheirown.ButnotGiselle.Shewasdifferent;shewasalwaysdifferent.Perhapsthat’swhyI’msofondofher.
Iquicklywipedmyhandsonafreshtowelfrommytrolleyandthenreachedouttoshakeherhand.“I’mpleasedtomakeyouracquaintance,”Isaid.
“Andyourname?”sheasked.
Again,Iwasflummoxed.Guestsrarelyaskedmyname.“Molly,”Imumbled,thencurtsied.
“MollytheMaid!”sheroared.“That’shilarious!”
“Indeed,madame,”Ireplied,lookingdownatmyshoes.
“Oh,I’mno‘madame,’?”shesaid.“Haven’tbeenforalongtime.CallmeGiselle.Sorryyouhavetocleanthisshitholeeveryday.We’reabitofamess,meandCharles.Butit’snicetoopenthedoorandfindeverythingallfreshafteryou’vebeenhere.It’slikebeingreborneverysingleday.”
Myworkhadbeennoticed,acknowledged,appreciated.Foramoment,Iwasn’tinvisible.
“I’matyourservice…Giselle,”Isaid.
Shesmiledthen,afulsomesmilethatreachedallthewaytoherfelinegreeneyes.
Ifeltthebloodrushtomycheeks.Ihadnoideawhattodonext,whattosay.It’snoteverydaythatIengageinarealconversationwithaguestofsuchstature.It’salsonoteverydaythataguestacknowledgesmyexistence.
Ipickedupmyfeatherdusterandwasabouttobeginmywork,butGisellekepttheconversationgoing.
“Tellme,Molly,”shesaid.“What’sitlikebeingamaid,cleaningupafterpeoplelikemeeveryday?”
Noguesthadeveraskedmethis.HowtorespondwasnotasubjectcoveredinanyofMr.Snow’scomprehensiveprofessionaldevelopmentsessionsonservicedecorum.
“It’shardwork,”Isaid.“ButIfinditpleasingtoleavearoompristineandtoslipoutanddisappearwithoutatrace.”
Giselletookaseatonthedivan.Shetwirledalockofherchestnutmanebetweenherfingers.“Thatsoundsincredible,”shesaid.“Tobeinvisible,todisappearlikethat.Ihavenoprivacy,nolife.EverywhereIgo,Ihavecamerasinmyface.Andmyhusband’satyrant.Ialwaysthoughtbeingthewifeofarichhusbandwouldsolveallofmyproblems,butthat’snothowitturnedout.That’snothowitisatall.”
Iwasspeechless.Whatwastheappropriateresponse?Ihadnotimetofigurethatout,becauseGisellestartedtalkingagain.“Basically,Molly,whatI’msayingis,mylifesucks.”
Shegotupfromthedivan,wenttotheminibar,andgrabbedasmallbottleofBombaygin,whichshepouredintoatumbler.Shereturnedtothedivanwithherdrinkandploppedbackdown.
“Weallhaveproblems,”Isaid.
“Ohreally?Whatareyours?”
AnotherquestionforwhichIwasnotprepared.IrememberedGran’sadvice—Honestyisthebestpolicy.
“Well,”Ibegan.“Imaynothaveahusband,butIdidhaveaboyfriendforawhile,andbecauseofhim,Inowhavemoneyproblems.Mybeau…heturnedouttobe…well,abadegg.”
“Abeau.Abadegg.Youtalkkindoffunny,youknowthat?”Shetookabiggulpfromherglass.“Likeanoldlady.Orthequeen.”
“That’sbecauseofmygran,”Isaid.“Sheraisedme.Shewasn’tveryeducatedintheofficialsense—sheneverwentbeyondhighschool,andshecleanedhousesallofherlife,untilshegotsick.Butsheschooledherself.Shewasclever.ShebelievedinthethreeE’s—Etiquette,Elocution,andErudition.Shetaughtmealot.Everything,infact.”
“Huh,”saidGiselle.
“Shebelievedinpolitenessandtreatingpeoplewithrespect.It’snotyourstationinlifethatmatters.It’showyouconductyourselfthatcounts.”
“Yeah.Igetthat.IthinkIwouldhavelikedyourgran.Andshetaughtyoutotalklikethat?LikeElizafromMyFairLady?”
“Isupposeshedid,yes.”
Shegotupfromthedivanandstoodrightinfrontofme,herchinheldhigh,takingmein.
“Youhaveincredibleskin.It’slikeporcelain.Ilikeyou,MollytheMaid.You’reabitweird,butIlikeyou.”Shethenskippedofftothebedroomandreturnedwithabrownmen’swalletinherhand.Sherummagedthroughitandpulledoutanew$100bill.Sheputitinmyhand.
“Here.Foryou,”shesaid.
“No,Icouldn’tpossibly—”
“Hewon’tevennoticeit’sgone.Andevenifhedoes,what’shegoingtodoaboutit,killme?”
Ilookeddownatthebillinmyhand,crispandfeather-light.“Thankyou,”Imanaged,myvoiceahoarsewhisper.ItwasthebiggesttipI’deverreceived.
“It’snothing.Don’tmentionit,”shereplied.
That’showitstarted,thefriendshipbetweenGiselleandme.Itcontinuedandgrewwitheachoneofherextendedstays.Overthecourseofayear,webecamequiteclose.Shewouldsometimessendmeonerrandssothatshedidn’thavetofacethepaparazzithatoftenwaitedrightoutsidethehotel’sfrontdoor.
“Molly,I’vehadquiteaday.Charles’sdaughtercalledmeagolddigger,andhisex-wifetoldmeIhaveterribletasteinmen.WillyouslipoutandbuymebarbecuechipsandaCoke?CharleshatesitwhenIeatjunk,buthe’soutthisafternoon.Here.”She’dpassmea$50bill,andwhenI’dreturnwithhertreats,she’dalwayssaythesamething.“You’rethebest,Molly.Keepthechange.”
SheseemedtounderstandthatIdon’talwaysknowtherightwaytobehaveorwhattosay.Once,Icameatmyusualtimetocleantheroom,andMr.Blackwasseatedatthebureaubythedoor,perusingpaperworkandsmokingafilthycigar.
“Sir.Isnowagoodtimeformetoreturnyoursuitetoastateofperfection?”Iinquired.
Mr.Blackpeeredatmeoverhisglasses.“Whatdoyouthink?”heasked,then,likeadragon,exhaledsmokerightinmyface.
“Ithinkit’sagoodtime,”Irepliedandturnedonmyvacuum.
Gisellerushedoutofthebedroom.Sheputherarmaroundmeandgesturedformetoturnthemachineoff.
“Molly,”shesaid,“he’stryingtotellyouit’sareallybadtime.He’stryingtotellyoutobasicallyfuckoff.”
Ifelthorrible,likeacompletefool.“Myapologies,”Isaid.
Shegrabbedmyhand.“It’sokay,”shesaidquietlysoMr.Blackwouldn’thear.“Youdidn’tmeananythingbyit.”Shesawmetothedoorandmouthed,I’msorrybeforeholdingitopensoIcouldpushmytrolleyandmyselfoutofthesuite.
Giselleisgoodlikethat.Insteadofmakingmefeelstupid,shehelpsmeunderstandthings.“Molly,youstandtooclosetopeople,youknowthat?Youhavetobackoffabit,notgetrightinpeople’sfaceswhenyoutalktothem.Imagineyourtrolleyisbetweenyouandtheotherperson,evenifit’snotreallythere.”
“Likethis?”Iasked,standingatwhatIthoughtwasthecorrectdistance.
“Yes!That’sperfect,”shesaid,andshegrabbedbothofmyarmsandsqueezed.“Alwaysstandthatfaraway,unlessit’s,like,meoranotherclosefriend.”
Anotherclosefriend.Littledidsheknow,shewasmyoneandonly.
SomedayswhileIwascleaningthesuite,IgotthesensethatdespitebeingmarriedtoMr.Black,shefeltlonelyandcravedmycompanyasmuchasIcravedhers.
“Molly!”sheyelledoneday,greetingmeatthedoorinsilkpajamaseventhoughitwasclosetonoon.“I’msogladyou’rehere.Cleantheroomsfastandthenwe’redoingamakeover.”Sheclappedherhandswithjoy.
“Excuseme?”Isaid.
“I’mgoingtoteachyouhowtoapplymakeup.You’rereallypretty,Molly,youknowthat?Youhaveperfectskin.Butyourdarkhairmakesyoulookpale.Andtheproblemisyoudon’ttryveryhard.Youhavetoenhancewhatnaturegaveyou.”
Icleanedthesuitequickly,whichishardtodowithoutcuttingcorners,butImanaged.Itwaslunchtime,soIfigureditwasacceptabletotakeabreak.Giselleseatedmeatthevanityinthehallwayoutsideofthebathroom.Shebroughtouthermakeupcase—IknewitwellsinceIreorganizedeachofhercosmeticseveryday,puttingthecapsbackonthingsshe’dleftopenandplacingeachtubeorcontainerbackinitsproperslot.
Sherolledupherpajamasleeves,putherwarmhandsonmyshoulders,andlookedatmeinthemirror.Itwasalovelyfeeling,herhandsrestingonmyshoulders.ItremindedmeofGran.
Shepickedupherhairbrushandstartedbrushingmyhair.“Yourhair,it’slikesilk,”shesaid.“Doyoustraightenit?”
“No,”Isaid.“ButIwashit.Regularlyandthoroughly.It’squiteclean.”
Shegiggled.“Ofcourseitis,”shesaid.
“Areyoulaughingwithmeoratme?”Iasked.“There’sabigdifference,youknow.”
“Oh,Iknow,”shesaid.“I’mthebuttofmanyajoke.I’mlaughingwithyou,Molly,”shesaid.“I’dneverlaughatyou.”
“Thankyou,”Isaid.“Iappreciatethat.Thereceptionistsdownstairswerelaughingatmetoday.Somethingaboutthenewnicknametheygaveme.Tobehonest,Idon’tfullyunderstandit.”
“Whatdidtheycallyou?”
“Rumba,”Isaid.“GranandIusedtowatchDancingwiththeStars,andtherumbaisaverylivelypartnerdance.”
Gisellewinced.“Idon’tthinktheymeantthedance,Molly.IthinktheymeantRoomba,asintheroboticvacuumcleaner.”
Finally,Iunderstood.IlookeddownatmyhandsinmylapsoGisellewouldn’tnoticethetearsspringingtomyeyes.Butitdidn’twork.
Shestoppedbrushingmyhairandputherhandsbackonmyshoulders.“Molly,don’tlistentothem.They’reidiots.”
“Thankyou,”Isaid.
Isatstifflyinthechair,staringatmyselfandGiselleinthemirrorassheworkedonmyface.IwasconcernedthatanyonecouldcomeinandfindmesittingdownwithGiselleBlack,havingmymakeupdone.HowtohandleguestsplacingyouinthisexactsituationhadneverbeencoveredinMr.Snow’sprofessional-developmentseminars.
“Closeyoureyes,”Gisellesaid.Shewipedthem,thendabbedcoolfoundationallovermyfacewithafreshmakeupsponge.
“Tellmesomething,Molly,”shesaid.“Youlivealone,right?You’reallbyyourself?”
“Iamnow,”Isaid.“Mygrandiedafewmonthsago.Beforethat,itwasjustthetwoofus.”
Shetookapowdercontainerandbrushandwasabouttouseitonmyface,butIstoppedher.“Isitclean?”Iasked.“Thebrush?”
Gisellesighed.“Yes,Molly.It’sclean.You’renottheonlypersonintheworldwhosanitizesthings,youknow.”
ThispleasedmeimmenselybecauseitconfirmedwhatIknewinmyheart.GiselleandIaresodifferent,andyet,fundamentally,weareverymuchalike.
Shebeganusingthebrushonmyface.Itfeltlikemyfeatherduster,butinminiature,likealittlesparrowwasdustingmycheeks.
“Isithard,livingalonelikethat?God,I’dneverlast.Idon’tknowhowtomakeitonmyown.”
Ithadbeenveryhard.IstillgreetedGraneverytimeIcamehome,eventhoughIknewshewasn’tthere.Iheardhervoiceinmyhead,heardhertraipsingabouttheapartmenteveryday.Mostofthetime,IwonderedifthatwasnormalorifIwasgoingabitsoftinthehead.
“It’shard.Butyouadapt,”Isaid.
Gisellestoppedworkingandmetmyeyesinthemirror.“Ienvyyou,”shesaid.“Tobeabletomoveonlikethat,tohavethegutstobefullyindependentandnotcarewhatanyonethinks.Andtobeabletojustwalkdownastreetwithoutbeingaccosted.”
ShehadnoideahowIstruggled,nottheslightestclue.“It’snotallabedofroses,”Isaid.
“Maybenot,butatleastyoudon’tdependonanyone.CharlesandI?Itlookssoglamorousfromtheoutside,butsometimes…sometimesit’snot.Andhiskidshateme.They’reclosetomyage,whichIadmitiskindofweird.Hisex-wife?She’sweirdlynicetome,whichisworsethananything.Shewasheretheotherday.DoyouknowwhatshesaidtomethesecondCharleswasoutofearshot?Shesaid,‘Leavehimwhileyoustillcan.’TheworstpartisIknowshe’sright.SometimesIwonderifImadetherightchoice,youknow?”
“Asamatteroffact,Ido,”Isaid.I’dmademyownwrongchoice—Wilbur—somethingIstillregrettedeverysingleday.
Mollypickedupsomeeyeshadow.“Closeyoureyesagain.”Ididso.Gisellecontinuedtotalkassheworked.“Afewyearsago,Ihadonegoalandonegoalonly.Iwantedtobesweptoffmyfeetbyarichmanwhowouldtakecareofme.AndImetthisgirl—let’scallhermymentor.Sheshowedmetheropes.Iwenttoalltherightplaces,boughtacoupleoftherightoutfits.‘Believeandyouwillreceive,’sheusedtosay.She’dbeenmarriedtothreedifferentmen,divorcedthreetimes,takingeachmanforhalfhisnetworth.Isn’tthatincredible?Shewasset.AhouseinSaint-TropezandanotherinVeniceBeach.Shelivedalone,withamaid,achef,andadriver.Noonetellingherwhattodo.Noonebossingheraround.I’dkillforthatlife.Whowouldn’t?”
“CanIopenmyeyesnow?”Iasked.
“Notyet.Almost,though.”Sheswitchedtoathinbrushthatfeltcoolandtenderonmyeyelids.
“Atleastyoudon’thaveamantellingyouwhattodo,amanwho’sahypocrite.Charlescheatsonme,”shesaid.“Didyouknowthat?GetsjealousifIsomuchasglanceatanotherman,buthehasatleasttwomistressesindifferentcities.AndthosearejusttheonesIknowabout.Hehasoneheretoo.IwantedtostranglehimwhenIfoundout.Hepaysoffthepaparazzisotheydon’tleakthetruthabouthim.Meanwhile,IhavetogivehimafullreportonwhereI’mgoingeverytimeIleavethisroom.”
Iopenedmyeyesandsatupstraightinmychair.IwasmostdistressedtolearnthisaboutMr.Black.“Idetestcheaters,”Isaid.“Idespisethem.Heshouldn’tdothattoyou.It’snotright,Giselle.”
Herhandswerestillclosetomyface.She’drolledherpajamasleevesupwellpastherelbows.Fromthatvantagepoint,Icouldmakeoutbruisesonherarms,andassheleanedforwardandhertopshifted,Isawablue-and-yellowmarkonhercollarbonetoo.
“Howdidyougetthose?”Iasked.Therehadtobeaperfectlyreasonableexplanation.
Sheshrugged.“LikeIsaid,thingsaren’talwaysgreatbetweenCharlesandme.”
Ifeltafamiliarchurninmystomach,bitternessandangerfrothingjustbelowthesurface,avolcanothatIwouldnotleterupt.Notyet.
“Youdeservebettertreatment,Giselle,”Isaid.“You’reagoodegg.”
“Meh,”shesaid.“I’mnotthatgood.Itry,butsometimes…sometimesit’shardtobegood.It’shardtodotherightthing.”Shepickedablood-redshadeoflipstickfromherkitandbeganapplyingittomylips.
“You’rerightaboutonething,though.Ideservebetter.IdeserveaPrinceCharming.AndI’llmakethathappen,eventually.I’mworkingonit.Believeandyouwillreceive,right?”Sheputthelipstickdownandpickedupalargehourglasstimerfromthevanity.I’dseenitthereoftenenough.Ihadpolisheditsglasscurveswithammoniaandthebrasswithmetalcleanertobringittoahighshine.Itwasabeautifulobject,classicandgraceful,apleasuretotouchandtobehold.
“Youseethistimer?”shesaid,holdingitinfrontofme.“ThewomanImet,mymentor?Itwasagiftfromher.Itwasemptywhenshegaveittome,andshetoldmetofillitwithsandfrommyfavoritebeach.Isaid,‘Areyoucrazy?I’veneverevenseentheocean.WhatmakesyouthinkI’mgoingtoabeachanytimesoon?’
“Turnsoutshewasright.I’veseenalotofbeachesthesepastfewyears.IwasescortedtomanyofthemevenbeforeImetCharles—theFrenchRiviera,Polynesia,theMaldives,theCaymans.TheCaymansaremyfavorite.Icouldlivethereforever.Charlesownsavillathere,andthelasttimehetookme,Ifilledthistimerwithsandfromthebeach.Iturnitoversometimesandjustwatchthesandrunthrough.Time,right?Yougottamakethingshappen.Makewhatyouwantoutofyourlifebeforeit’stoolate….Anddone!”shesaid,steppingawaysoIcouldseemyreflectioninthemirror.
Shestoodbehindme,handsonmyshouldersagain.
“See?”shesaid.“Justabitofmakeup,andsuddenlyyou’reahottie.”
Iturnedmyheadfromsidetoside.Icouldbarelyseemyoldselfanymore.IknewthatIsomehowlooked“better,”oratleastmorelikeeveryoneelse,buttherewassomethingveryoff-puttingaboutthechange.
“Doyoulikeit?It’slikeducklingtoswan,likeCinderellaattheball.”
Iknewtheetiquetteforthis,whichwasarelief.Whensomeonecomplimentsyou,you’resupposedtothankthem.Andwhentheydosomethingkindforyou—evenifyoudidn’twantthemto—you’resupposedtothankthem.
“Iappreciateyourefforts,”Isaid.
“You’rewelcome,”shereplied.“Andtakethis,”shesaid,pickingupthebeautifultimer.“It’sagift.Frommetoyou,Molly.”
Sheputtheglowingobjectintomyhands.ItwasthefirstgiftI’dreceivedsinceGrandied.Icouldn’trecallthelasttimeI’dbeengivenagiftbysomeoneotherthanGran.“Iloveit,”Isaid.Imeantit.ThiswassomethingIvaluedmuchmorethananymakeover.Icouldn’tbelieveitwasnowmine,tocherishandpolishfromthisdayforth.Itwasfilledwithsandfromafar-off,exoticplacethatIwouldneversee.Anditwasagenerousgiftfromafriend.
“Iwillkeepithereinmyhotellockerincaseyoueverwantitback,”Isaid.ThetruthisthatasmuchasIlovedthetimer,Icouldn’tbringithome.IwantedonlyGran’sthingsathome.
“Really,Iloveit,Giselle.Iwilladmireiteveryday.”
“Whoareyoukidding?Youalreadydoadmireiteveryday.”
Ismiled.“Yes,Isupposeyou’reright,”Isaid.“MayImakeasuggestion?”
ShestoodtherewithahandonherhipwhileItidiedhermakeupkitandcleanedupthevanity.
“YoumightconsiderleavingMr.Black.Hehurtsyou.You’rebetteroffwithouthim.”
“Ifonlyitwerethateasy,”shesaid.“Buttime,MissMolly.Timehealsallwounds,astheysay.”
Shewasright.Astimepasses,thewounddoesn’thurtasmuchasitdidatfirst,andthat’salwaysasurprise—tofeelalittlebitbetterandyettomissthepast.
NosoonerhadthatthoughtcrossedmymindthanIrealizedhowlateitwas.Icheckedmyphone—1:03P.M.Mylunchhourwasoverminutesago!
“Ihavetogo,Giselle.Mysupervisor,Cheryl,willbeveryupsetwithmytardiness.”
“Oh,her.Shewassniffingaroundhereyesterday.Shecameinaskingifwewerepleasedwiththecleaningservices.Isaid,‘I’vegotthebestmaidever.Whywouldn’tIbepleased?’Andshestoodtherewiththatdumblookonherfaceandsaid,‘I’lldoamuchbetterjobforyouthanMolly.I’mhersupervisor.’AndI’mlike,‘Nope.’Ipulledoutatennerfrommypurseandhandedittoher.‘Molly’stheonlymaidIneed,thanks,’Isaid.Thensheleft.She’sarealpieceofwork,thatone.Givesnewmeaningtotheterm‘restingbitchface,’ifyouknowwhatI’msaying.”
Grantaughtmenottousefoullanguage,andIrarelydo.ButIcouldnotdenyGiselle’sappropriateuseoflanguageinthisparticularinstance.Istartedtosmiledespitemyself.
“Molly?Molly.”ItwasDetectiveStark.
“I’msorry,”Isaid.“Canyourepeatthequestion?”
“IaskedifyouknowGiselleBlack.Didyoueverhaveanydealingswithher?Conversations?DidsheeversayanythingaboutMr.Blackthatstruckyouasodd?Didsheevermentionanythingthatmighthelpourinvestigation?”
“Investigation?”
“AsImentioned,it’slikelythatMr.Blackdiedofnaturalcauses,butit’smyjobtoruleoutotherpossibilities.That’swhyI’mtalkingtoyoutoday.”Thedetectivewipesahandacrossherbrow.“So,againI’llask:didGiselleBlackevertalktoyou?”
“Detective,”Isay,“I’mahotelmaid.Whowouldwanttotalktome?”
Sheconsidersthis,thennods.Sheisentirelysatisfiedwithmyresponse.
“Thankyou,Molly,”shesays.“It’sbeenatoughdayforyou,Icanseethat.Letmetakeyouhome.”
Andsoshedid.
Withaturnofthekey,Iopenthedoortomyapartment.Iwalkacrossthethresholdandclosethedoorbehindme,slidingthedeadboltacross.Homesweethome.
IlookdownatthepillowonGran’santiquechairbythedoor.ShesewedtheSerenityPrayeronitinneedlepoint:GodgrantmetheserenitytoacceptthethingsIcannotchange,thecouragetochangethethingsIcan,andthewisdomtoknowthedifference.
Itakemyphonefrommypantspocketandplaceitonthechair.Iunlacemyshoesandwipethebottomswithaclothbeforeputtingthemawayinthecloset.
“Gran,I’mhome!”Icallout.She’sbeengoneforninemonths,butitstillfeelswrongnottocallouttoher.Especiallytoday.
Myeveningroutineisnolongerthesamewithouther.Whenshewasalive,wespentallourfreetimetogether.Intheevening,thefirstthingwe’ddowascompletethatday’scleaningtask.Thenwe’dmakedinnertogether—spaghettionWednesdays,fisheveryFriday,providedwecouldfindagooddealonfiletsatthegrocerystore.Thenwe’deatourmealssidebysideonthesofaaswewatchedrerunsofColumbo
GranlovedColumbo,andsodoI.SheoftencommentedonhowPeterFalkcoulduseawomanlikehertosorthimout.“Lookatthatovercoat.It’sinextremeneedofawashandaniron.”She’dshakeherheadandaddresshimonthescreenasifhewererealandrightthereinfrontofher.“Idowishyouwouldn’tsmokecigars,dear.It’safilthyhabit.”
Butdespitethebadhabit,webothadmiredthewayColumbocouldseethroughtheconnivingplotsofthene’er-do-wellsandmakesuretheygottheirjustdeserts.
Idon’twatchColumboanymore.Justanotherthingthatdoesn’tseemrightnowthatGranisdead.ButIdotrytokeepupwithournightlycleaningroutines.
Monday,floorsandchores.
Tuesday,deepcleaningtogivemeaning.
Wednesday,bathandkitchen.
Thursday,dustwemust.
Friday,wash-and-dryday.
Saturday,wildcard.
Sunday,shopandchop.
Granalwaysdrilledintometheimportanceofacleanandorderlyhome.
“Acleanhome,acleanbody,andcleancompany.Doyouknowwherethatleads?”
Icouldnothavebeenmorethanfiveyearsoldwhenshetaughtmethis.Ilookedwayupatherasshespoke.“Wheredoesitlead,Gran?”
“Toacleanconscience.Toagood,cleanlife.”
Itwouldtakeyearsformetotrulyunderstandthis,butitstrikesmenowhowrightshewas.
Itakeoutthebroomanddustpan,themopandbucketfromthecleaningcupboardinthekitchen.Ibeginwithagoodsweep,startingatthefarcornerofmybedroom.Thereisn’tmuchfloorspace,sincemyqueenbedtakesupmostoftheroom,butdirthasawayofhidingunderthings,oflodginginthecracks.Iliftthebedskirtsanddoasweepunderthebed,pushinganyclingingdustforwardandoutoftheroom.Gran’slandscapepaintingsoftheEnglishcountrysidehangoneverywall,andeveryoneofthemremindsmeofher.
Whatadayithasbeen,whatadayindeed.ItisoneI’dratherforgetthanremember,andyetitdoesn’tworkthatway.Weburythebadmemoriesdeep,buttheydon’tgoaway.They’rewithusallthetime.
Icarryonsweepingthroughthehallway.Imakemywaytothebathroom,withitsold,crackedblack-and-whitetilesthatneverthelessshinebrightlywhenpolished,somethingIdotwiceweekly.Isweepupafewofmyownstrayhairsfromthefloor,thenbackoutofthebathroom.
Now,I’mrightinfrontofGran’sbedroomdoor.It’sclosed.Ipause.Iwon’tgointhere.Ihaven’tcrossedthatthresholdinmonths.Anditwon’tbetoday.
Isweeptheparquetfromthefarthestendofthelivingroom,aroundGran’scuriocabinet,underthesofa,rightthroughthegalleykitchenandbacktothefrontdoor.I’veleftminutepilesofdetritusbehindme—oneoutsidemybedroomdoor,anotheroutsidethebathroom,oneherebythefrontentrance,andoneinthekitchen.Isweepeachpileintothedustpanandthenhavealookatthecontents.Quiteacleanweek,overall—afewcrumpetcrumbs,somedustandclothingfibers,somestrandsofmyowndarkhair.NothingleftofGranthatIcansee.Nothingatall.
Iwhiskthedirtintothetrashbininthekitchen.ThenIfillthebucketwithwarmwaterandaddsomeofthatniceMr.Clean,MoonlightBreezescent(Gran’sfavorite),intothebucket.Icarrythebucketandmopintomybedroomandstartatthefarcorner.I’mcarefulnottosplashanywaterontomybedskirtsanddefinitelynotonthelone-starquiltthatGranmadeformeyearsago,fadednowfromuseandwear,butnonethelessatreasure.
Icompletemycircuit,endingagainattheentrance,whereIencounteraverystubbornblackscuffmarkatthedoor.Imusthavedonethatwithmyblack-soledworkshoes.Iscrub,scrub,scrub.“Out,damnspot,”Isayaloud,andeventuallyitfadesbeforemyeyes,revealingthegleamofparquetbeneath.
It’sfunnythewaymemoriesbubbleupwheneverIclean.Idowonderifthat’sthesameforeveryone—foreveryonewhocleans,thatis.AndthoughI’vehadarathereventfulday,it’snottodaythatI’mthinkingabout,notMr.Blackandallofthatwretchedbusiness,butadaylongagowhenIwasaboutelevenyearsold.IwasaskingGranaboutmymother,asIdidfromtimetotime—Whatkindofpersonwasshe?Wherehadshegoneandwhy?Iknewshe’drunoffwithmyfather,amanGrandescribedasa“badegg”and“afly-by-night.”
“Whatwasheduringtheday?”Iasked.
Shelaughed.
“Areyoulaughingwithmeoratme?”
“With,mydeargirl!Alwayswith.”
Shewentontosayitwasnosurprisethatmymothergotcaughtupwithafly-by-night,becauseGranhadmademistakes,too,whenshewasyoung.That’showshegotmymotherinthefirstplace.
Itwasallsoconfusingatthetime.Ihadnoideawhattothinkaboutanyofit.Itmakesmoresensenow.TheolderIget,themoreIunderstand.AndthemoreIunderstand,themorequestionsIhaveforher—questionsshecannolongeranswer.
“Willsheevercomebacktous?Mymother?”Iaskedbackthen.
Alongsigh.“Itwon’tbeeasy.Shehastoescapehim.Andshehastowanttogetaway.”
Shedidn’t,though.Mymotherneverreturned.Butthat’sokaywithme.There’snopointmourningsomeoneyouneverknew.It’shardenoughmourningsomeoneyoudidknow,someoneyou’llneverseeagain,someoneyoumissdreadfully.
Mygranworkedhardandcaredformewell.Shetaughtmethings.Shehuggedmeandfussedovermeandmadelifeworthliving.Mygranwasalsoamaid,butadomesticone.Sheworkedforawell-to-dofamily,theColdwells.Shecouldwalktotheirmansionfromourapartmentinhalfanhour.Theycomplimentedherwork,butwhatevershedidforthem,itwasneverenough.
“CanyoucleanupafteroursoiréeonSaturdaynight?”
“Canyougetthisstainoutofourcarpet?”
“Doyougardenaswell?”
Gran,everwillingandgood-natured,saidyestoeveryrequest,nomatterwhattollittookonher.Insodoing,shesavedupaverynicenesteggovertheyears.Shecalledit“theFabergé.”
“Deargirl,wouldyoupopdowntothebankanddepositthisintheFabergé?”
“Sure,Gran,”I’dsay,grabbingherbankcardandwalkingdownfiveflightsofstairs,outofthebuilding,anddowntwoblockstotheATM.
AsIgotolder,thereweretimesIworriedforGran,worriedshewasworkingtoohard.Butshedismissedmyconcerns.
“Thedevilmakesworkforidlehands.Andbesides,onedayitwilljustbeyou,andtheFabergéwillseeyouthroughwhenthatdaycomes.”
Ididn’twanttothinkaboutthatday.ItwashardtoimaginelifebeyondGran,especiallysinceschoolwasaspecialformoftorture.Bothelementaryandhighschoolwerelonelyandtrying.Iwasproudofmygoodgrades,butmypeerswerenevermypeers.Theyneverunderstoodmethenandrarelydonow.WhenIwasyounger,thisvexedmemorethanitdoestoday.
“Noonelikesme,”I’dtellGranwhenIgotpickedonatschool.
“That’sbecauseyou’redifferent,”sheexplained.
“Theycallmeafreak.”
“You’renotafreak.You’rejustanoldsoul.Andthat’ssomethingtobeproudof.”
WhenIwasnearingtheendofhighschool,GranandItalkedalotaboutprofessions,aboutwhatIwantedtodoinmyadultlife.Therewasonlyoneoptionofanyinteresttome.“Iwanttobeamaid,”Itoldher.
“Deargirl,withtheFabergé,youcanaimalittlehigherthanthat.”
ButIpersisted,andIthinkdeepdownGranknewbetterthananyonewhatIam.Sheknewmycapabilitiesandmystrengths;shewasalsokeenlyawareofmyweaknesses,thoughshesaidIwasgettingbetter—Thelongeryoulive,themoreyoulearn.
“Ifbeingamaidiswhatyou’reseton,sobeit,”Gransaid.“You’llneedsomeworkexperience,though,beforeyouenteracommunitycollege.”
GranaskedaroundandthroughanoldcontactwhowasadoormanattheRegencyGrand,shelearnedofanopeningforamaidatthehotel.Iwasnervousatmyinterview,feltsweatpoolingindiscreetlyatmyarmpitsaswestoodoutsidethehotel’simposing,red-carpetedfrontstepswiththestatelyblack-and-goldawningloomingoverit.
“Ican’tgointhere,Gran.It’sfartooposhforme.”
“Balderdash.Youdeservetoenterthosedoorsasmuchasanyone.Andyouwill.Goon,then.”
Shepushedmeforward.IwasgreetedbyMr.Preston,herdoormanfriend.
“It’sapleasuretomeetyou,”hesaid,bowingslightlyandtippinghishat.HelookedatGraninafunnywaythatIcouldn’tquitecomprehend.“It’sbeenawhile,Flora,”hesaid.“Itisgoodtoseeyouagain.”
“It’sgoodtoseeyoutoo,”Granreplied.
“Bettergetyouinsidethen,Molly,”Mr.Prestonsaid.
HeguidedmethroughtheshinyrevolvingdoorsandItookinthegloriouslobbyoftheRegencyGrandfortheveryfirsttime.Itwassobeautiful,soopulent,Ialmostfeltfaintatthesightofit—themarblefloorsandstaircases,thegleaminggoldenrailings,thesmart,uniformedReceptionstaff,likeneatlittlepenguins,tendingtowell-dressedguestswhomilledaboutthestatelylobby.
IfollowedbreathlesslyasMr.Prestonledmethroughtheornateground-floorcorridors,decoratedwithdarkwainscoting,clamshellwallsconces,andthekindofdensecarpetthatabsorbsallsound,leavingradiantsilencetodelighttheears.
Weturnedrightthenleft,thenright,passingofficeafterofficeuntilatlastwecametoanaustereblackdoorwithabrassnameplatethatread:MR.SNOW,HOTELMANAGER,THEREGENCYGRAND.Mr.Prestonknockedtwice,thenopenedthedoorwide.Tomyutterastonishment,Ifoundmyselfinadark,leatheryden,withmustardbrocadewallpaperandloomingbookshelves,anofficeIcouldeasilyhavebelievedwas221BBakerStreetandbelongedtononeotherthanSherlockHolmeshimself.
BehindagiantmahoganydesksatthediminutiveMr.Snow.Hestoodtogreetmethemomentwewalkedin.WhenMr.Prestondiscreetlypaddedoutoftheroom,leavingustoourinterview,Icanreadilyadmitthatwhilemypalmsweresweatingandmyheartpalpitatedwildly,soenamoredwasIwiththeRegencyGrandthatIwasboundanddeterminedtolandmyselfthecovetedpositionofmaid.
Truthbetold,Idon’tremembermuchaboutourinterviewitself,exceptthatMr.Snowexpoundedoncomportmentandrules,decorumanddecency,whichwasnotjustmusictomyearsbutratheraheavenlyandsacredhymn.Afterourchat,heledmethroughthehallowedcorridors—left,right,left—untilwewerebackinthelobby,clippingdownasteepflightofmarblestairstothehotelbasement,which,heinformedme,housedthehousekeepingandlaundryquartersalongsidethehotelkitchen.Inacramped,airlesscloset-cum-officethatsmelledofalgae,must,andstarch,Iwasintroducedtotheheadmaid,Ms.CherylGreen.Shelookedmeupanddown,thensaid,“She’llhavetodo.”
Ibeganmytrainingtheverynextdayandwassoonworkingfull-time.Workingwassomuchbetterthangoingtoschool.Atwork,ifIwasteased,itwasatleastsubtleenoughtoignore.Wipe,wipe,andtheslightwasgone.Itwasalsoterrificallyexcitingtoreceiveapaycheck.
“Gran!”I’dsayasIreturnedhomeaftermakingmyveryowndeposittotheFabergé.I’dpassherthedepositreceiptandshe’dsmileeartoear.
“IneverthoughtI’dseetheday.You’resuchablessingtome.Doyouknowthat?”
Granbroughtmecloseandhuggedmetight.There’snothingintheworldquitelikeaGranhug.ItmaybethethingImissthemostabouther.That,andhervoice.
“Doyouhavesomethinginyoureyes,Gran?”Iaskedwhenshepulledaway.
“No,no,I’mquitefine.”
ThemoreIworkedattheRegencyGrand,themoreIputintotheFabergé.GranandIbegantalkingaboutpost-secondaryoptionsforeducation.Iattendedaninformationsessionaboutthehotelmanagementandhospitalityprogramatanearbycommunitycollege.Itwastremendouslyexciting.Granencouragedmetoapply,andtomysurprise,Iwasaccepted.Atcollege,I’dlearnnotonlyhowtocleanandmaintainanentirehotelbutalsohowtomanageemployees,justlikeMr.Snowdid.
However,justbeforeclasseswereabouttobegin,Iattendedanorientationsession,andthat’swhereImetWilbur.WilburBrown.Hewasstandinginfrontofoneofthedisplaytables,readingtheliterature.Therewerepadsandpensbeingofferedforfree.Hegrabbedseveralandshovedthemintohisbackpack.Hewouldn’tmoveoutoftheway,andIverymuchwantedtobrowsethebrochures.
“Excuseme,”Isaid.“MightIaccessthetable?”
Heturnedtome.Hewasstocky,woreverythickglasses,andhadcoarse,blackhair.
“Sorry,”hesaid.“Ididn’trealizeIwasinyourway.”Helookedatme,unblinking.“I’mWilbur.WilburBrown.I’mgoingintoaccountinginthefall.Areyougoingintoaccountinginthefall?”Heofferedmehishand.HeshookitandshookituntilIhadtoyankmyarmawaytomaketheshakingstop.
“I’mgoingintohotelmanagement,”Isaid.
“Ilikegirlswhoaresmart.Whatkindofguysdoyoulike?Mathguys?”
I’dneverconsideredwhatkindsof“guys”Iliked.IknewIlikedRodneyatwork.HehadaqualityI’dheardreferredtoontelevisionas“swagger.”LikeMickJagger.Wilburdidnothaveswagger,andyet,hehadsomethingelse:hewasapproachable,direct,familiar.Iwasn’tafraidofhimthewayIwasofmostotherboysandmen.Iprobablyshouldhavebeen.
WilburandIbegandating,muchtoGran’sdelight.
“I’msohappyyou’vefoundsomeone.It’ssimplydelightful,”shesaid.
I’dcomehomeandtellherallabouthim,howwewentgroceryshoppingtogetherandusedcoupons,orhowwewalkedinaparkandcountedout1,203stepsfromthestatuetothefountain.Granneverinquiredaboutthemorepersonalaspectsofourromance,forwhichI’mgrateful,becauseI’mnotsureIwouldhaveknownhowtoexplainhowIfeltaboutthephysicalparts,exceptthatwhileitwasallnewanddifferent,itwasalsoquitepleasant.
Oneday,GranaskedmetoinviteWilburroundtotheapartment,andsoIdid.IfGranwasdisappointedbyhim,shecertainlyhiditwell.
“He’swelcomeroundhereanytime,yourbeauis,”shesaid.
Wilburstartedvisitingregularly,eatingwithusandstayingafterdinnertowatchColumbo.NeitherGrannorIenjoyedhisincessantTVcommentaryandquestions,butweboreitstoically.
“Whatkindofamysteryrevealsthekillerfromthebeginning?”he’dask.Or,“Can’tyouseethebutlerdidit?”He’druinanepisodebytalkingthroughit,oftenpointingoutthewrongculprit,thoughtobefair,GranandIhadseeneveryepisodeseveraltimes,soitdidn’treallymatter.
Oneday,WilburandIwenttoanoffice-supplystoretogethersohecouldbuyanewcalculator.Heseemedveryoffthatday,butIdidn’tquestionit,evenwhenhetoldmeto“Hurryup,already”asItriedtokeepupwithhiscompulsivestride.Onceinsidetheshop,hepickedupvariouscalculatorsandtriedthemout,explainingthefunctionofeachbuttontome.Then,oncehehadchosenthecalculatorhelikedbest,heslippeditintohisbackpack.
“Whatareyoudoing?”Iasked.
“Willyoushutyourdamnmouth?”hereplied.
Idon’tknowwhatshockedmemore—hislanguageorthefactthathewalkedoutofthestorewithoutpayingforthecalculator.He’dstolenit,justlikethat.
Andthat’snotall.Oneday,Icamebackhomefromworkwithmypaycheck.Hevisitedthatevening.Granwasn’tdoingsowellbythispoint.She’dbeenlosingweightandwasmuchmorequietthannormal.“Gran,I’mgoingtopopdownanddepositthisintheFabergé.”
“I’llgowithyou,”Wilburoffered.
“Whatagentlemanyouhavethere,Molly,”Granreplied.“Offyoutwogo,then.”
AttheATM,Wilburbeganaskingmeallkindsofquestionsaboutthehotelandwhatitwasliketocleanaroom.Iwasmorethanhappytoexplainthepeculiarjoyofmakinghospitalcornerswithfreshlypressedsheetsandhowapolishedbrassdoorknobinthesunshineturnsthewholeworldtogold.IwassoengrossedinsharingthatIdidn’tnoticehimwatchingmetypeinGran’sPIN.
Thatnight,heleftabruptly,rightbeforeColumbo.Fordays,Itextedhim,buthedidn’treply.I’dcallandleavehimmessages,buthewouldn’tanswer.It’sfunny,butitneveroccurredtomethatIdidn’tknowwherehelived,hadneverbeentohishome,didn’tevenknowhisaddress.Healwaysmadeexcusesforwhyitwasbesttogotomyplace,includingthatitwasalwaysnicetoseeGran.
Aboutaweeklater,Iwenttotakeouttherentmoney.Icouldn’tfindmybankcard,whichwasodd,soIaskedGranforhers.IwenttotheATM.Andthat’swhenIdiscoveredthatourFabergéwasempty.Completelydrained.AnditwasthenIknewthatWilburwasnotjustathiefbutacheataswell.Hewastheverydefinitionofabadegg,whichistheworstkindofman.
IwasashamedthatI’dbeenduped,thatI’dfallenforaliar.Iwasashamedtomycore.Iconsideredcallingthepoliceandseeingiftheycouldtrackhimdown,butintheend,IknewthatwouldmeantellingGranwhathe’ddone,andIjustcouldn’tdoit.Icouldn’tbreakherheartlikethat.Onebrokenheartwasplenty,thankyouverymuch.
“Wherehashebeen,yourbeau?”Granaskedafterafewdaysofnotseeinghim.
“Well,Gran,”Isaid,“itseemshe’sdecidedtogohisownway.”Idonotliketolieoutright,andthiswasnotanoutrightliebutratheratruththatremainsthetruthprovidednofurtherdetailsarerequested.AndGrandidn’tinquirefurther.
“That’sashame,”shesaid.“Butnottoworry,dear.Thereareplentyoffishinthesea.”
“It’sbetterthisway,”Isaid,andIthinkshewassurprisedthatIwasn’tmoreupset.ButthetruthisIwasupset.Iwasfurious,butIwaslearninghowtohidemyfeelings.IwasabletokeepmyrageunderthesurfacewhereGrancouldn’tseeit.Shehadenoughtocontendwith,andIwantedhertoconcentrateallofherenergyongettingwell.
Secretly,IimaginedtrackingWilburdownmyself.Ihadvividfantasiesaboutrunningintohimatthecollegecampusandgarrotinghimwiththestrapsofhisbackpack.Iimaginedpouringbleachintohismouthtomakehimconfesswhathe’ddone,toGran,tome.
ThedayafterWilburrobbedus,Granhadadoctor’sappointment.She’dbeentoseveralintheweeksprior,buteverytimeshecamehome,thenewswasthesame
“Anyresults,Gran?Dotheyknowwhyyou’reunwell?”
“Notyet.Maybeit’sallinyourol’Gran’shead.”
Iwaspleasedtohearthis,becauseafakeillnessisfarlessfrighteningthanarealone.Butstill,partofmehadmisgivings.Herskinwaslikecrepepaper,andshebarelyhadanappetiteanymore.
“Molly,Iknowit’sTuesday,deepcleaning,butdoyouthinkwecouldtacklethattaskanotherdayperhaps?”Itwasthefirsttimeeverthatsheaskedforareprievefromourcleaningroutine.
“Nottoworry,Gran.Yourest.I’lldooureveningchore.”
“Deargirl,whatwouldIdowithoutyou?”
Ididn’tsayitoutloud,butIwasstartingtowonderwhatImyselfwoulddoifeverIwerewithoutGran.
Afewdayslater,Granhadanotherappointment.Whenshecamehome,somethingwasdifferent.Icouldseeitinherface.Shelookedpuffyandstrained.
“ItseemsIamalittlebitsickafterall,”shesaid.
“Whatkindofsickness?”Iasked.
“Pancreatic,”shesaidquietly,hereyesneverstrayingfrommine.
“Didtheygiveyoumedicine?”
“Yes,”shesaid.“Theydid.It’sasicknessthatunfortunatelycausespain,sothey’retreatingthat.”
Shehadn’tmentionedpainbeforethat,butIsupposeIknew.Icouldseeitinthewayshewalked,howshestruggledtositdownonthesofaeachnight,howshewincedwhenshegotup.
“Butwhatistheillnessexactly?”Iasked.
Sheneveransweredme.Instead,shesaid,“Ineedalie-down,ifthat’sallright.It’sbeenalongday.”
“I’llmakeyouatea,Gran,”Isaid.
“Lovely.Thankyou.”
WeekswentbyandGranwasquieterthannormal.Whenshemadebreakfast,shedidn’thum.Shecamehomefromworkearly.Shewaslosingweightrapidlyandtakingmoreandmoremedicationeachday.
Ididn’tunderstand.Ifshewastakingmedicine,whywasn’tshegettingbetter?
Ilaunchedaninvestigation.“Gran,”Isaid,“whatillnessdoyouhave?Younevertoldme.”
Wewereinthekitchenatthetime,cleaningupafterdinner.“Mydeargirl,”shesaid.“Let’shaveaseat.”Wetookourspotsatourcountry-stylediningsetfortwo,whichwe’dsalvagedyearsearlierfromabinoutsideofourbuilding.
Iwaitedforhertospeak.
“I’vebeengivingyoutime.Timetogetusedtotheidea,”sheeventuallysaid.
“Usedtowhatidea?”Iasked.
“Molly,dear.Ihaveaseriousillness.”
“Youdo?”
“Yes.Ihavepancreaticcancer.”
Andjustlikethat,thepiecesclicked,thefullpictureemergedfromthemurkyshadows.Thisexplainedthelossofweightandthelackofenergy.Granwasonlyhalfherself,whichiswhysheneededfullandpropermedicalcaresoshecouldmakeacompleterecovery.
“Whenwillthemedicinetakeeffect?”Iasked.“Maybeyouneedtoseeadifferentdoctor?”Butasshedoledoutthedetails,thetruthbegantosinkin.Palliative.Suchanoperaticword,solovelytosay.Andsohardtocontemplate.
“Itcan’tbe,Gran,”Iinsisted.“Youwillgetbetter.Wesimplyhavetocleanupthismess.”
“Oh,Molly.Somemessescan’tbecleaned.I’vehadsuchagoodlife,Ireallyhave.Ihavenocomplaints,exceptthatIwon’thavemoretimewithyou.”
“No,”Isaid.“Thisisunacceptable.”
Shelookedatmetheninsuchanunreadableway.Shetookmyhandinhers.Herskinwassosoft,sopaper-thin,buthertouchwaswarm,righttotheend.
“Let’sjustbeclear-eyedaboutthis,”shesaid.“I’mgoingtodie.”
Ifelttheroomcloseinaroundme,feltittiltononeend.Foramoment,Icouldn’tbreatheatall,couldnotsomuchasmove.IwassureIwasgoingtopassoutrightatthekitchentable.
“I’vetoldtheColdwellsIcan’tworkanymore,butdon’tyouworry,there’sstilltheFabergé.Ihopethatwhenmytimecomes,thegoodLordtakesmequickly,withouttoomuchpain.Butifthereispain,I’vegotmyprescriptiontohelpwiththat.AndIhaveyou….”
“Gran,”Isaid.“Therehastobea—”
“There’sonethingyoumustpromiseme,”shesaid.“Iwillnotgotothehospitalunderanycircumstances.Iwon’tspendmyenddaysinaninstitutionsurroundedbystrangers.There’snosubstituteforfamily,fortheonesyoulove.Orforthecomfortsofhome.Ifthere’sanyoneIwantbymybedside,it’syou.Doyouunderstand?”
Sadly,Idid.I’dtriedashardasIcouldtoignorethetruth,butitwasnowimpossible.Granneededme.WhatelsewasItodo?
Thatevening,GrantiredoutlongbeforeColumbo,soItuckedherintobed,kissedheronthecheek,andsaidgoodnight.ThenIcleanedthekitchencupboardsandeverydishweowned,onebyone.IcouldnotstopmytearsfromfallingasIpolishedeverybitofsilver,notthatwehadmuch,butwehadalittle.WhenIwasdone,theentirekitchensmelledoflemons,butIcouldn’tshakethefeelingthatdirtlurkedinthecracksandcrevices,andunlessIcleanedit,thecontagionwouldspreadintoeveryfacetofourlives.
Istillhadn’tsaidathingtoGranabouttheFabergéandWilbur,howhe’dleftuspenniless.HowIcouldnolongerpaytuitionforcollege,howIwasstrugglingtoevenkeepupwiththerent.Instead,IsimplyworkedmoreshiftsattheRegencyGrand,tookonmorehourssothatIcouldhaveenoughtopayforeverything—includingGran’spain-managementmedicationsandourgroceries.Wewerelateontherent,whichwasanotherthingIdidn’tmention.WheneverImetourlandlord,Mr.Rosso,inthehall,Ipleadedformoretimetopay,explainingthatGranwassickandweweredowntojustmyincome.
Meanwhile,asGran’shealthworsened,Ireadcollegebrochuresaloudtoheratherbedside,explainingallthecoursesandworkshopsIwasexcitedabout,eventhoughIknewI’dnevermakeittothefirstclass.Granclosedhereyes,butIcouldtellshewaslisteningbecauseofthepeacefulsmileonherface.
“WhenI’mgone,youjustusetheFabergéwheneveryouneedto.Ifyoukeepworkingpart-time,therewillstillbeenoughforrentforatleasttwoyears,andthat’snotincludingyourtuition.It’sallyours,souseittomakeyourlifeeasier.”
“Yes,Gran.Thankyou.”
I’vebeendaydreamingandIdidn’trealizeit.I’mstandingbythefrontdoorofourapartment.MymopleansagainstthewallandI’mclutchingGran’sserenitypillowtomychest.Idon’trememberwhenIputdownmymoporwhenIpickedupthispillow.Theparquetfloorisclean,butit’sbatteredandscarredfromdecadesoffoottraffic,fromthedailywearandtearofourdomesticlife.Theoverheadlightbearsdownonme,toobright,toowarm.
I’mallalone.HowlonghaveIbeenstandinghere?Thefloorsaredry.Myphoneisringing.IleanoverandgrabitfromGran’schair.
“Hello,thisisMollyGrayspeaking.”
There’sapauseontheotherendoftheline.“Molly.ThisisAlexanderSnowfromthehotel.I’mgladyou’rehome.”
“Thankyou.Yes.I’vebeenhomeforsometime.Thedetectivedrovemehereherselfaftershequestionedme.Rathergoodofher,Ithought.”
“Yes.Andthankyouforagreeingtotalktoher.I’msureyourinsightswillhelptheinvestigation.”
Hepausesagain.Icanhearhisshallowbreathingontheotherendoftheline.Itisnotthefirsttimehehascalledmeathome,butacallfromMr.Snowisarareoccurrence.
“Molly,”hesaysagain.“Irealizethishasbeenaverytryingdayforyou.It’sbeenhardonmanyofus,especiallyMrs.Black.NewshasbeenspreadingaboutMr.Black’s…demise.Asyoucanimaginetheentirestaffisveryupsetanddisturbed.”
“Yes.Icanimagine,”Isay.
“Irealizethattomorrowisyouronedayoffinweeksandthatyouwentthroughalottoday,butitseemsthatCherylhastakenthenewsofMr.Black’sdeathquitebadly.Shesaystheexperiencehascausedher‘extremetrauma,’soshewon’tbecomingintomorrow.”
“Butshewasn’ttheonetofindhimdead,”Isay.
“Everyonereactstostressindifferentways,Isuppose,”hereplies.
“Yes,ofcourse,”Ireply.
“Molly,doyouthinkyoucouldcomeinherplaceandworkthedayshifttomorrow?Again,I’msorrythat—”
“Ofcourse,”Isay.“Anextradayofworkisn’tgoingtokillme.”
Anotherlongpause.
“Isthatall,Mr.Snow?”
“Yes,that’sall.Andthankyou.We’llseeyoutomorrowmorning.”
“Youwillindeed,”Isay.“Goodnight,Mr.Snow.Don’tletthebedbugsbite.”
“Goodnight,Molly.”
Iwilladmittohavingbaddreamslastnight.IdreamedthatMr.Blackwalkedthroughthefrontdoorofmyapartment,grayandashen,likethelivingdead.Iwassittingonthesofa,watchingColumbo.Iturnedtohimandsaid,“Noonecomeshere,notsinceGrandied.”Hestartedlaughing—laughingatme.ButIfocusedmylasergazeonhim,andhislimbsturnedtodust,afinecharcoalparticulatethatspreadaroundtheroomandintomylungs.Istartedgaggingandcoughing.
“No!”Iyelled.“Ididn’tdothistoyou!Itwasn’tme!Getout!”
Butitwastoolate.Hisgrimewaseverywhere.Iwokeupgaspingforair.
It’snowsixA.M.It’stimetoriseandshine.Orjustrise.
Igetoutofbedandmakeitproperly,carefultopositionGran’squiltsothatthestarinthemiddlepointsduenorth.Igotothekitchen,whereIputonGran’spaisleyapronandprepareteaandcrumpetsforone.It’stooquietinthemornings.Thescratchygrateofmyknifeagainstthetoastedcrumpetisanoffensetomyears.Ieatquickly,thenshowerandleaveforwork.
I’mlockingtheapartmentdoorbehindmewhenIhearsomeoneclearingtheirthroatinthehallway.Mr.Rosso.
Iturntofacehim.“Hello,Mr.Rosso.Upearlythismorning?”
I’mexpectingthebasiccivilityofagoodmorning,butallIgetis,“Yourrentisoverdue.Whenwillyoupayup?”
Iputmykeysinmypocket.“Therentwillbepaidinafewdays’time,andatthatpoint,IwillmakegoodoneverypennyIoweyou.Youknewmygran,andyouknowme.Wearelaw-abidingcitizenswhobelieveinpayingourfairshare.AndIwilldoso.Soon.”
“You’dbetter,”hesays,thenshufflesbacktohisapartment,closingthedoorbehindhim.
Idowishpeoplewouldpickuptheirfeetwhentheywalk.It’smostslovenlytoshufflelikethat.Itleavesaverypoorimpression.
Now,now,let’snotjudgeotherstooharshly.IhearitinmyheadinGran’svoice,aremindertobegraciousandforgiving.It’safaultofmine,tobequicktojudgeortowanttheworldtofunctionaccordingtomylaws.
Wemustbelikebamboo.Wemustlearntobendandflexwiththewind.
Bendandflex.Notmystrongsuits.
Iheaddownthestairsandoutofmybuilding.Idecidetowalkallthewaytowork—atwenty-minutejauntthat’spleasantenoughingoodweather,thoughtodaythecloudsarebroodyandthreatenrain.IbreatheasighofreliefthesecondIseteyesonthebustlinghotel.I’maprofessionalhalfhourearlyformyshift,asismyway.
IgreetMr.Prestonatthefrontdoors.
“OhMolly.Tellmeyou’renotworkingtoday.”
“Iam.Cherylcalledinsicklastnight.”
Heshakeshishead.“Naturally.Molly,areyouallright?Youhadquiteascareyesterday,soIhear.I’mterriblysorry…aboutwhatyousaw.”
Mydreamflashesinmyheadforamoment,mixedwiththerealvisionofMr.Black,deadinhisbed.“Noneedtobesorry,Mr.Preston.It’snotyourfault.ButI’lladmit,thiswholesituationhasbeenabit…trying.I’llkeepcalmandcarryon.”Athoughtoccurstome.“Mr.Preston,didMr.Blackreceiveanyvisitorsyesterday,friendlyor…otherwise?”
Mr.Prestonadjustshiscap.“NotthatInoticed,”hesays.“Whydoyouask?”
“Oh,noreason,”Isay.“Thepolicewillinvestigate,I’msure.Especiallyifsomethingisamok.”
“Amok?”Mr.Prestonfixesmewithaseriousstare.“Molly,ifeveryouneedanything—anyhelpatall—youjustrememberyourol’friendMr.Preston,youhear?”
Iamnotthekindtoimposeonotherpeople.SurelyMr.Prestonknowsthatmuchaboutmebynow.Hisfaceisstern,hiseyebrowsknitwithconcernthatevenIcanreadclearly.
“Thankyou,Mr.Preston,”Isay.“Iappreciateyourkindoffer.Now,ifyoudon’tmind,I’msurethere’sextracleaningtotackletodaysincethereweremanyofficersandparamedicstraipsingthroughthishotelyesterday.Ifearnotalloftheirbootsareascleanasyours.”
Hetipshishatandturnshisattentiontosomeguestswhoaretrying,unsuccessfully,tohailacab.
“Taxi!”hecallsout,thenturnsbacktomeforamoment,“Takegoodcare,Molly.Please.”
Inodandmakemywayuptheplushredstairs.Ipushthroughtheshinyrevolvingdoors,jostlingagainstguestsheadinginandout.Inthefrontlobby,IseeMr.Snowbythereceptiondesk.Hisglassesareakimbo,andalockofhairhasescapedhisgelled-backcoiffure.Itwagsbackandforthonhisheadlikeadisapprovingfinger.
“Molly,I’msogladyou’rehere.Thankyou,”hesays.Heholdstheday’snewspaperinhishand.It’shardnottonoticetheheadline:WEALTHYTYCOONCHARLESBLACKTURNSUPDEADINTHEREGENCYGRANDHOTEL.
“Haveyoureadthis?”heasks.
HepassesmethepaperandIscanthearticle.ItexplainshowamaidfoundMr.Blackdeadinhisbed.Myname,thankgoodness,isnotmentioned.ThenittalksabouttheBlackfamilyandthestrifebetweenhischildrenandhisex-wife.“RumorshavebeenswirlingforyearsaroundthelegitimacyofBlackProperties&Investments,withallegationsoffraudulentdealingsandembezzlementbeingshutdownbyBlack’spowerfulteamofattorneys.”
Halfwaythroughthearticle,IcatchthenameGiselleandreadmorecarefully.“GiselleBlack,Mr.Black’ssecondwife,isthirty-fiveyearshisjunior.SheisthepresumedheirtotheBlackfortunes,whichhavebeenthesubjectoffamilyfeudsinrecentyears.AfterGiselleBlack’shusbandwasfounddead,shewasseenleavingthehotelwearingdarkglasses,accompaniedbyanunknownmale.Accordingtovariousstaffmembersatthehotel,theBlacksareregularguestsattheRegencyGrand.WhenaskedifMr.Blackconductedbusinessatthehotel,Mr.AlexanderSnow,thehotelmanager,hadnocomment.AccordingtoleaddetectiveStark,foulplayhasnotyetbeenruledoutasMr.Black’scauseofdeath.”
IfinishreadingthearticleandpassthepaperbacktoMr.Snow.Isuddenlyfeelunsteadyonmyfeetastheimplicationsofthatfinallinesinkin.
“Doyousee,Molly?They’resuggestingthatthishotelis…is…”
“Foul,”Ioffer.“Unclean.”
“Yes,exactly.”
Mr.Snowattemptstostraightenhisglasses,withlimitedsuccess.“Molly,Imustaskyou,didyouorhaveyou,atanytime,noticedany…questionableactivitiesinthishotel?WiththeBlacksoranyotherguests?”
“Questionable?”Isay.
“Nefarious,”heexplains.
“No!”Ireply.“Absolutelynot.IfIhad,you’dhavebeenthefirsttoknow.”
Mr.Snowreleasesapent-upsigh.Ifeelsorryforhim,fortheburdenhecarries—themightyreputationoftheRegencyGrandHotelitselfrestsonhisslightshoulders.
“Sir,mayIaskyouaquestion?”
“Ofcourse.”
“ThearticlementionsGiselleBlack.Doyouknow:isshestillstayinghere?Inthehotel,Imean?”
Mr.Snow’seyesdartleftandright.Hestepsawayfromthereceptiondeskandthesmartlyuniformedpenguinsmanningit.Hesignalsformetodothesame.Gagglesofguestsareroamingthelobby;it’sunusuallybusythismorning.Manyofthemholdnewspapersinhand,andIsuspectthatMr.Blackmaybethetopiconthetipofmanytongues.
Mr.Snowgesturestoanemeraldsetteeinashadowycornerbythegrandstaircase.Wemakeourwaythere.It’sthefirsttimeI’veeversatononeofthesesettees.Isinkintothesoftvelvet,nospringstocircumvent,unlikeoursofaathome.Mr.Snowperchesbesidemeandspeaksinawhisper.“Toansweryourquestion,Giselleisstillstayinghereatthehotel,butyou’renottopassthatalong.Shehasnowhereelsetogo,doyouunderstand?Andshe’sdistraught,asyoucanimagine.I’vemovedhertothesecondfloor.Sunithawillcleanherroomfromnowon.”
Ifeelanervousflutterinmystomach.“Verywell,”Isay.“Ibestbeoff.Thishotelwon’tcleanitself.”
“Onemorething,Molly,”Mr.Snowsays.“TheBlacksuite?It’soutofboundstoday,obviously.Thepolicearestillconductingtheirinvestigationintheroom.You’llnoticesecuritytape,andapoliceguardpostedoutsidethedoor.”
“SowhenshouldIcleanthatsuite?”
Mr.Snowstaresatmeforalongtime.“You’renottocleanit,Molly.That’swhatI’mtryingtotellyou.”
“Verywell.Iwon’tthen.Goodbye.”
Andwiththat,Istand,turnonmyheel,andheaddownthemarblestairstomybasementlockerinthehousekeepingquarters.
I’mgreetedbymytrustyuniform,crispandclean,encasedinplasticwrap,hungonmylockerdoor.It’sasthoughyesterday’supheavalsneverhappened,asthougheverydayconvenientlyerasestheonethatcamebefore.Iquicklychange,leavingmyownclothesinmylocker.ThenIgrabmymaid’strolley—whichis,miracleofmiracles,fullystockedandreplenished(nodoubtowingtoSunshineorSunitha,andcertainlynottoCheryl).
Iheadthroughthelabyrinthoftoo-brighthallwaysuntilImakeittothekitchen,whereJuanManuelisscrapingtheremnantsofbreakfastsintoalargegarbagecanandputtingplatesintotheindustrialdishwasher.I’veneverbeeninasauna,butIimagineitmustfeellikethis—minustheoffensiveodorofamedleyofbreakfastfoods.
AssoonasJuanManuelseesme,heputsdownthespraynozzleandeyesmewithconcern.
“Diostebendiga,”hesays,crossinghimself.“Iamgladtoseeyou.Areyouokay?I’vebeenworriedaboutyou,MissMolly.”
It’sbecomingupsettingthateveryoneismakingsuchafussaboutmetoday.I’mnottheonewhodied.
“I’mquitefine,thankyou,JuanManuel,”Isay.
“Butyoufoundhim,”hewhispers,eyeswide.“Dead.”
“Idid.”
“Ican’tbelievehe’sreallygone.Iwonderwhatitmeans,”hesays.
“Itmeanshe’sdead,”Isay.
“WhatI’msayingis,whatwillitmeanforthehotel?”Hetakesafewstepsclosertome,soclosehe’sonlyhalfatrolley’swidthaway.
“Molly,”hewhispers.“Thatman.Mr.Black?Hewaspowerful.Toopowerful.Whowillbethebossnow?”
“ThebossisMr.Snow,”Isay.
Helooksatmestrangely.“Ishe?Ishereally?”
“Yes,”Ireplywithutmostconfidence.“Mr.Snowismostdefinitelythebossofthishotel.Now,canwestopdiscussingthis?Ireallyneedtogettowork.Today,I’llmakesomenewarrangementsfortonight.I’vejustheardthatthefourthfloorisundersurveillance.Thepolicearestillupthere.IneedyoutostayinRoom202tonight,okay?Secondfloor,notthefourth.Toavoidthepolice.”
“Okay.Don’tworry.I’llstayclear.”
“AndJuanManuel,Ishouldn’tbetellingyouthis,butGiselleBlackisstayingsomewhereonthesamefloor.Onthesecond.Sobecareful.Theremaybeinvestigators,evenonherfloor.Youhavetokeepalowprofileuntilthisinvestigationisover.Understood?”
IhandhimakeycardforRoom202.“Yes,Molly.Understood.Youneedtokeepalowprofile,too,okay?Iworryaboutyou.”
“There’snothingtoworryabout,”Isay.“Ibestbeoff.”ThenIexitthekitchenandwheelmytrolleytotheserviceelevator.Istepin,theairinstantlyfresherandcooler,andIrideuptothelobby,whereI’llretrievemydailystackofpapersfromtheSocial.
Evenfromafar,IcanspotRodneybehindthebar.Whenheseesme,herushesouttogreetme.
“Molly!You’rehere.”Heputshishandsonmyshoulders.Ifeelthemlikeelectricity,warmingmetomycore.“Areyouallright?”
“Everyonekeepsaskingmethat.I’mallright,”Isay.“Perhapsahugwouldnotbetoomuchtoaskofyou?”
“Ofcourse!”hesays.“You’reactuallyjustthepersonIwantedtoseetoday.”Hefoldsmeintohischest.Irestmyheadonhisshoulderandtakeinthescentofhim.
It’sbeensolongsinceI’vebeenhuggedthatIdon’tknowwhatI’msupposedtodowithmyarms.Iopttowrapthemaroundhisbackandrestthemonhisshoulderblades,whichareevenstrongerthanIwouldhaveimagined.
HepullsawaybeforeI’mready.It’sonlythenthatInoticehisrighteye.It’sswollenandpurple,asthoughhe’sbeenpunched.“Whathappenedtoyou?”Iask.
“Oh,itwasstupid.IwashelpingJuanManuelwithabaginhisroom,andI…Iranintothedoor.Askhim.He’lltellyou.”
“Youshouldicethat.Itlookssore.”
“Enoughaboutme,Iwanttohearhowyou’redoing.”Helooksaroundthebarashesaysthis.Groupsofmiddle-agedwomeneatbreakfasttogether,teaspoonstinklingagainstceramic,laughterechoingastheywhileawaythemorninghoursbeforetheirtheatermatinees.Afewfamiliesarefillinguponstacksofpancakesbeforeadayfullofmuseumsandsightseeing.Andtwolone-wolfbusinesstravelerspeckatcontinentalbreakfasts,theireyesgluedtotheirphonesorthenewspaperssplayedinfrontofthem.WhoisRodneylookingfor?Surelyit’snoneoftheseguests.Butifnotthem,who?
“Listen,”Rodneysaysinahush.“IheardyoufoundMr.Blackyesterdayandthattheytookyoutothecopshoptoaskyouquestions.Ican’ttalknow,butwhydon’tyoucomebyafteryourshift?Wecangrabaquietboothandyoucantellmeeverything.Everylastdetail,okay?”Hereachesformyhandandsqueezesitinhis.Hiseyesaredeeppoolsofblue.Heisconcerned.Concernedforme.Foramoment,Iwonderifhe’sgoingtokissme,butthenIrealizehowdaftthatis—kissingafellowemployeeinthemiddleofthebarandgrill.Ofcoursehewouldn’tdothat.Butit’sapitynonetheless.
“Itwouldbelovelytomeetyoulater,”Isay,aimingforcoynonchalance.“SofiveP.M.?Sharp?Isthisadate?”
“Uh,yeah.Okay.”
“I’llseeyouthen,”Isay,andstarttowalkaway.
“Don’tforgetyournewspapers,”hesays.Hegrabsastackfromthefloorandplopsthemonthebar.
“Oh,sillyme.”IstrugglewiththefullstackasIcarrythemtomytrolley.He’snowdistractedbehindthebar,pouringacoffeeforacustomer.Itrytomakeeyecontactwithhimonelasttime,buttonoavail.
That’sfine.We’llhaveplentyoftimeforeyecontacttonight.
Lifeisafunnything.Onedaycanbequiteshocking,andsocanthenext.Butthetwoshocksmightbeasdifferentfromeachotherasnightfromday,asblackfromwhite,asgoodfromevil.Yesterday,IfoundMr.Blackdead;today,Rodneyaskedmeonadate.Technically,Isupposewewon’tbe“going”onadatebut“staying”onadatebecauseitwillhappenatourplaceofwork.Butthat’samatterofsemantics.Thedatepartiswhat’smostrelevant.
IthasbeenwelloverayearsinceRodneyandIwentonourlastdate.Goodthingscometothosewhowait,Granalwayssaid,andyes,Gran,youwererightaboutthat.JustwhenIthoughtRodneywasn’tinterestedinme,thenherevealsthatheis.Andhistimingisimpeccable.Yesterdaywasajolttomysystem.Todayisalsoajoltbutinamuchmorepleasantandexcitingway.Itgoestoshowyouthatyoujustneverknowwhatsurpriseslifehasinstoreforyou.
Ipushmytrolleythroughthelobbyandheadtowardtheelevator.Anothergroupofladies,probablyona“girls’getaway,”rushespastme.Theyclosetheelevatorinmyface,somethingI’musedto.Themaidcanwait.Themaidgoeslast.Finally,Igetanelevatoralltomyselfandpushnumber4.Thebuttonglowsred.IfeelqueasyasIgobacktothefourthfloorforthefirsttimesincefindingMr.Blackdeadinhisbed.Pullyourselftogether,Ithink.Youdon’thavetoenterthatsuitetoday.
Thedoorschimeandopen.Ipushmytrolleyoutbutimmediatelybashintosomething.IlookuptodiscoverI’vejustrunintoapoliceofficer,hiseyessogluedtohisphonethathe’sentirelyunawarethathe’sblockingtheelevator.Regardlessofwho’satfault,IknowexactlywhatI’msupposedtodo.IlearnedthisinanearlytrainingsessionwithMr.Snow:theguestisalwaysright,evenwhentheyarepayingnomindwhatsoevertowhomtheymaybeinconveniencing.
“Mysincerestapologies,sir.Areyouallright?”Iask.
“Yeah,I’mfine.Butwatchwhereyou’regoingwiththatthing.”
“Iappreciatetheadvice.Thankyou,Officer,”IsayasImaneuvermytrolleyaroundhim.WhatIreallywantistorunrightoverhistoessinceherefusestostepoutoftheway,butthiswouldbeinappropriate.OnceI’mpasthim,Ipause.“MayIbeofassistancetoyouinanyway?Ahottowel,perhaps?Someshampoo?”
“I’mfine,”hesays.“Excuseme.”
HestepsaroundmeandIwatchasheheadstowardtheBlacksuite.Thereisbright-yellowcautiontapeacrossthedoor.Hestandstothesideofit,leaningagainstthewall,onefootcrossedovertheother.Icanseealreadythatifhelollsaroundlikethatallday,he’llleaveastainthatwillbeachallengetoerase.I’dlovetotakemybroomhandleandflickhimoffthewall,butnevermind.It’snotmyplace.
IheadtothefarendofthefloortobeginmyworkinRoom407.I’mpleasedtofinditempty,theguestscheckedout.There’safive-dollarbillonthepillow,whichIpickupandputinmypocketwithquietthanks.Everypennycounts,asGranalwayssaid.Ibusymyselfwithstrippingthebedandlayingfreshsheets.Myhandsareabitshakytoday,Imustadmit.Everyonceinawhile,aflashofMr.Blackentersmymind—sallowface,coldtothetouch—andallthethingsIwitnessedafter.Aboltofelectricityflashesthroughme.There’snothingtobeantsyabout,though.Todayisnotyesterday.Todayisabrand-newday.Toeasemynerves,Iconcentrateonhappythoughts.AndnothingishappiertomerightnowthanthoughtsofRodney.
AsIclean,Ireplayourburgeoningrelationshipinmymind.IrememberwhenIfirstbeganworkingatthehotelanddidn’tknowhimwell.Everyday,asIcollectedmynewspapersatthestartofmyshift,Itriedtolingerabitlonger.Slowly,overtime,webecamequitecordial—dareIsaycongenial?Butitwasonedayoverayearandahalfagowhenouraffectionwascemented.
Iwasonthethirdfloor,cleaningmyrooms.SunshinewascleaningonehalfofthefloorandIwastacklingtheother.IenteredRoom305,whichwasnotonmyrosterforthatshift,butthefrontdeskhadtoldmeitwasvacantandneededtobecleaned.Ididn’tevenbotherknockingsinceI’dbeentolditwasempty,butwhenIpushedthroughthedoorwithmytrolley,Icameface-to-facewithtwoveryimposingmen.
Grantaughtmetojudgepeoplebytheiractionsratherthanbytheirappearances,sowhenIlookeduponthesetwobehemothswithshavedheadsandperplexingfacialtattoos,Iimmediatelyassumedthebestofthemratherthantheworst.MaybetheseguestswereafamousrockduoI’dneverheardof?Orperhapstheyweretrendytattooartists?Orworld-renownedwrestlers?SinceIpreferantiquestopopculture,howwouldIknow?
“Mysincerestapologies,sirs,”Isaid.“Iwastoldthatalltheguestsinthisroomhadvacated.I’mterriblysorrytodisturbyou.”
Ismiledthen,asperprotocol,andwaitedforthegentlementorespond.Butneithersaidaword.Therewasanavy-blueduffelbagonthebed.OneofthegiantshadbeenpackingawayapieceofequipmentwhenIintruded,somekindofmachineorscalethathewasabouttoputinthebag.Now,hestoodstock-stillwiththeoddapparatusinonehand.
JustwhenIwasfeelingslightlyuncomfortablewiththeamountofsilencethatlingered,twopeoplesteppedoutofthebathroombehindthetwomen.OnewasRodney,inhiscrisp,whiteshirt,withsleevesrolled,revealinghislovelyforearms.TheotherwasJuanManuel,whowasholdingabrownpaperpackage,hisbaggedlunchordinner,perhaps?Rodney’shandswereballedintofists.HeandJuanManuelwereclearlysurprisedtoseeme,andtobeperfectlyhonest,I,too,wassurprisedtoseethem.
“Molly,no.Whyareyouhere?”JuanManuelasked.“Please,youneedtoleaverightaway.”
RodneyturnedtoJuanManuel.“What,areyouthebossnow?You’resuddenlyincharge?”
JuanManueltooktwostepsbackwardandbecameentrancedbythepositionofhisfeetonthefloor.
Idecidedthiswasthemomenttostepinandsmooththeriftbetweenthem.“Technicallyspeaking,”Isaid,“Rodneyisthebarmanager.Whichmeansthatinthestrictlyhierarchicalsense,heisthehighest-rankingemployeeamongusatthepresentmoment.Butlet’srememberthatwe’reallVIPs,everylastoneofus,”Isaid.
ThetwobehemothslookedfromRodneyandJuanManueltomeseveraltimesinquicksuccession.
“Molly,”Rodneysaid.“Whatareyoudoinghere?”
“Isn’titobvious?”Ianswered.“I’mheretocleantheroom.”
“Yeah,Igetthatpart.Butthisroomwasn’tsupposedtobeonyourrostertoday.Itoldthemdownstairs…”
“Toldwhom?”Iasked.
“Look,itdoesn’tmatter.That’snotthepoint.”
JuanManuelsuddenlyrushedpastRodneyandgrabbedmyarm.“Molly,don’tworryaboutme.Rundownstairsnowandyougotell—”
“Whoa,”saidRodney.“Letgoofher,rightnow.”Itwasn’tasuggestion.Itwasanorder.
“Oh,it’squiteallright,”Isaid.“JuanManuelandIareacquaintancesandI’mnotintheleastuncomfortable.”Itwasonlythenthatitdawnedonmeexactlywhatwasgoingon.RodneywasjealousofJuanManuel.Thiswasamasculinedisplayofromanticrivalry.Itookthisasaverygoodsign,sinceitrevealedthetrueextentofRodney’sfeelingsforme.
RodneyeyedJuanManuelinawaythatconveyedhiscleardispleasure,butthenhesaidsomethingentirelysurprising.“How’syourmother,JuanManuel?”heasked.“Yourfamily’sinMazatlán,right?I’vegotfriendsinMexico,youknow.Goodones.I’msurethey’dbehappytocheckinonyourfamily.”
JuanManuelletgoofmyarmthen.“Noneed,”hesaid.“Theyarefine.”
“Good.Let’skeepitthatway,”hereplied.
HowlovelythatRodneywasconcernedaboutthewell-beingofJuanManuel’sfamily,Ithought.ThemoreIgottoknowhim,themorehistruenaturerevealeditselftome.
Atthismoment,thetwobehemothsspokeup.IwaslookingforwardtobeingproperlyintroducedsothatIcouldcommittheirnamestomemoryforfuturereference,perhapsevenmakesuretheyreceivedchocolateturn-downserviceintheevenings.
“Whatthehellisgoingonhere?”oneofthemaskedRodney.
“Whothefuckisshe?”theotheradded.
Rodneysteppedforward.“It’sokay.Don’tworry.I’llfixthis.”
“Youbetter.Andfuckin’fast.”
Now,Imustsaythatthisrepeateduseoffoullanguagetookmeaback,butIhavebeentrainedtoactasaconsummateprofessionalatalltimes,withallmannerofpeople,betheypoliteorimpolite,cleanorslovenly,potty-mouthedorwell-spoken.
Rodneygotrightinfrontofme.Inalowvoice,hesaid,“Youweren’tsupposedtoseeanyofthis.”
“Seewhat?”Iasked.“Thecolossalmessallofyouhavemadeinthisroom?”
Oneofthebehemothsspokeupthen.“Lady,we’vejustcleanedeverythingupgood.”
“Well,”Isaid.“You’vedoneasubstandardjob.Asyoucansee,thecarpetneedsavacuum.Yourfootprintsarealloverit.Seethat?Howthepileisdisturbedbythefrontdoor,andthenoverthere,bythebathroom?Itlookslikeaherdofelephantstrompedthroughhere.Nottomentionthissidetable.Whoatepowdereddoughnutswithoutaplate?Andthesebig,fatfingerprints.Nooffense,buthowcouldyounotnoticethose?They’reallovertheglasstop.I’llhavetopolisheverydoorknobtoo.”
Itookaspraybottleandpapertowelfrommytrolleyandbeganspritzingthetable.Icleanedupthewholemessinaflash.“See?Isn’tthatbetter?”
Thebehemoths’facesmirroredeachother—theirlongmouthsagape.Clearly,theywerequiteimpressedwithmyefficientcleaningtechniques.JuanManuel,meanwhile,wasobviouslyembarrassed.Hewasstillstaringathisshoes.
Noonespokeforagood,longwhile.Somethingwasamiss,butIwashard-pressedtosaywhat.ItwasRodneywhobrokethesilence.Heturnedhisbackonmeandaddressedhisfriends.“Mollyis…she’saveryspecialgirl.Youcanseethat,right?Howshe’s…unique.”
Whatalovelythingforhimtosay.IfelttrulyflatteredandavoidedeyecontactforfearthatIwasblushing.“I’mhappytocleanupafteryourfriendsanytime,”Isaid.“Infact,itwouldbemypleasure.Youjusthavetotellmewhatroomyou’restayinginandI’llaskforittobeaddedtomyroster.”
Rodneyaddressedhisfriendsagain.“Canyouseehowhelpfulshecouldbe?Andshe’sdiscreet.Right,Molly?You’rediscreet?”
“Discretionismymotto.Invisiblecustomerserviceismygoal.”
Bothmensuddenlymovedinonme,pushingRodneyandJuanManueloutoftheway.
“Soyou’renotasquawker,right?Youwon’ttalk?”
“I’mamaid,notagossip,thankyouverymuch.I’mpaidtokeepmymouthshutandreturnroomstoastateofperfection.Ipridemyselfongettingthejobdoneandthendisappearingwithoutatrace.”
Thetwomenglancedateachotherandshrugged.
“Yougood?”Rodneyaskedthem.Theynodded,thenturnedtotheduffelbagonthebed.“Andyou?”RodneyaskedJuanManuel.“Allgood?”
JuanManuelnodded,buthislipswereasharpline.
“Okay,Molly,”Rodneysaidashelookedatmewiththosepiercingblueeyesofhis.“Everythingwillbefine.Youjustdoyourjoblikeyouusuallydo,okay?YouleavethisplacespotlesssonoonewilleverknowJuanManuelandhisbuddieswerehere.Andyoukeepquietaboutit.”
“Ofcourse.Andifyou’llexcuseme,Ireallyshouldgettowork.”
Rodneycameinclosetome.“Thankyou,”hewhispered.“We’lltalkmoreaboutthislater.Let’smeetuptonight,okay?I’llexplaineverything.”
Itwasthefirsttimeheproposedsucharendezvous.Icouldbarelybelievemyears.“Iwouldlovethat!”Isaid.“Soit’sadate?”
“Sure.Yeah.Meetmeinthelobbyatsix.We’llgosomewhereandtalkprivately.”
Andwiththat,thebehemothsgrabbedtheduffelbag,pushedpastme,andopenedthehotelroomdoor.Theylookeddownthehallway,leftthenright.ThentheygesturedforRodneyandJuanManueltofollow.Allfourofthempromptlyvacatedtheroom.
Therestofthatmorningwentbyinablurofactivity.AsIcleanedfuriously,yearningforsixo’clocktocome,IsuddenlyrealizedthatI’dwornoldbutserviceableslacksandoneofGran’shigh-collaredblousestoworkthatmorning.Thiswouldnotdoatall,notforafirstdatewithRodney.
IfinishedtheroomIwascleaningandpulledmytrolleyintothehall.IsearchedforSunithaontheothersideofthefloor.
“Knock-knock,”Isaid,thoughthesuiteshewascleaningwaswideopen.Shestoppedwhatshewasdoingandlookedatme.“Ineedtorunanerrand.IfCherylcomesuphere,wouldyoutellher…thatI’llbebackshortly?”
“Yes,Molly.It’swellpastlunchtimeandyouneverstop.You’reallowedtotakeabreak,youknow.”Shebegantohumasshecontinuedcleaning.
“Thankyou,”Isaid,dashingoutoftheroomanddownthehalltotheelevator.Irushedouttherevolvingfrontdoors.
“Molly?Everythingallright?”Mr.PrestonaskedasIsailedbyhim.
“Splendid!”Icalledback.Itooktothesidewalk,jogging.IracedaroundthecornertoalittleboutiqueIpassedeverydayonmywaytowork.I’dalwaysadmiredthelovelylemon-yellowsignandthemannequininthewindow,smartlydressedinachicnewoutfiteveryday.ThiswasnotaplaceI’dnormallyshop.Itwasmeantfortheguestsofthehotel,notfortheirmaid.
Igrabbedthedoorhandleandsteppedinside.Ashopkeeperapproachedmeinstantly.
“Youlooklikeyouneedsomehelp,”shesaid.
“Yes,”Ireplied,abitbreathlessly.“Ineedanoutfitposthaste.Ihaveadatetonightwithasubjectofpotentialromanticintrigue.”
“Whoa,”shesaid.“You’reinluck.Romanticintrigueismyspecialty.”
Abouttwenty-twominuteslater,Iwasleavingthestorewithalargelemon-yellowbagcontainingapolka-dottop,somethingcalled“skinnyjeans,”andapairof“kittenheels”thatdidnothavekittensonthemsofarasIcouldtell.Inearlyfaintedwhentheshopkeeperannouncedthetotal,butitseemedabreachofdecorumtobackoutofpaymentwhentheitemswerealreadybagged.Ipaidusingmydebitcard,thenrushedbacktothehotel.ItriednottothinkabouttherentmoneyI’djustspentandhowI’dreplaceit.
Iwasbackatworkat12:54,justintimetostartworkagain.Mr.Prestondidadouble-takewhenhesawmyshoppingbag,butherefrainedfromcomment.Ihurrieddownthemarblestairstothehousekeepingquarters,whereIstowedmynewpurchasesinmylocker.BacktoworkIwent,Cherylneverthewiser.
Thatnight,atexactlysixP.M.,Ishowedupinthehotellobbydressedinmynewoutfit.I’devenmanagedtostylemyhairabitwithacurlingironfromthelostandfound,makingitsleekandsmooththewayI’dseenGiselledowithherflatiron.IwatchedasRodneyenteredthelobbyandlookedforme,hiseyesbrushingrightpastmeandthenback,becausehefailedtorecognizemeatfirstglance.
Heapproached.“Molly?”hesaid.“Youlook…different.”
“Differentgoodorbad?”Iasked.“Iputmytrustinalocalshopkeeper,andIhopeshedidn’tleadmeastray.Fashionisnotmyforte.”
“Youlook…great.”Rodney’seyesdartedabouttheroom.“Let’sgetoutofhere,okay?WecangototheOliveGardendownthestreet.”
Icouldnotbelieveit!Itwasfate.Asign.TheOliveGardenismyveryfavoriterestaurant.ItwasGran’sfavoritetoo.Everyyear,onherbirthdayandonmine,we’dreadyourselvesforabignightouttogether,completewithendlessgarlicbreadandfreesalad.ThelasttimewewenttotheOliveGardentogether,Granturnedseventy-five.WeorderedtwoglassesofChardonnaytocelebrate.
“Toyou,Gran,onthree-quartersofacentury,onequarterlefttogo,ataminimum!”
“Hear,hear!”saidGran.
ThefactthatRodneyhadchosenmyfavoritediningestablishment?Wewerestar-crossed,meanttobe.
Mr.Prestoneyedusasweexitedthehotel.“Molly,areyouallright?”heaskedasheofferedhisarm,steadyingmeasIwobbleduncertainlydownthestaircaseinmynewfelineheels.Rodneyhadraceddownthestairsaheadofmeandwaswaitingonthesidewalk,checkinghisphone.
“Nottoworry,Mr.Preston,”Isaid.“I’mverywellindeed.”
Oncewewereatthebottomstep,Mr.Prestonassumedalowtone.“You’renotgoingoutwithhim,areyou?”heasked.
“Asamatteroffact,”Iwhispered,“Iam.Soifyou’llexcuseme…”IgavehisarmalittlesqueezeandthenteetereduptoRodneyonthesidewalk.
“I’mready.Let’sgo,”Isaid.Rodneybeganwalkingwithoutglancingupfromtheimportant,last-minutebusinesshewastakingcareofonhisphone.Oncewewereawayfromthehotel,heputhisphoneawayandslowedhispace.
“Sorryaboutthat,”hesaid.“Abartender’sworkisneverdone.”
“That’squiteallright,”Ireplied.“Yoursisaveryimportantjob.You’reanintegralbeeinthehive.”
IhopedhewasimpressedbymyreferencetoMr.Snow’semployee-trainingseminar,butifhewas,hedidnotshowit.
Allthewaytotherestaurant,IbabbledonaboutanyandalltopicsofinterestIcouldthinkof—theadvantagesofrealfeatherdustersversussyntheticones,thewaitressesheworkedwithwhorarelyrememberedmynameand,ofcourse,mylovefortheOliveGarden.
Afterwhatseemedlikealongtimebutwasprobablyonlysixteenandahalfminutes,wearrivedattheentranceoftheOliveGarden.“Afteryou,”Rodneysaid,politelyopeningthedoorforme.
Ahelpfulyoungwaitressseatedusinaperfectlyromanticboothtuckedtoonesideoftherestaurant.
“Wantadrink?”Rodneyasked.
“Thatsoundslovely.I’llhaveaglassofChardonnay.Willyoujoinme?”
“I’mmoreofabeerkindofguy.”
Thewaitressreturnedandweorderedourdrinks.“Canweorderfoodrightaway?”Rodneyasked.Helookedatme.“Ready?”
IndeedIwas,readyforanything.IorderedwhatIalwaysordered.“TheTourofItaly,please,”Isaid.“Becausehowcanyougowrongwithatriooflasagna,fettucine,andchickenparmigiana?”IsmiledatRodneyinawayIhopedwassomewhatcoquettish.
Helookeddownathismenu.“Spaghettiandmeatballs.”
“Yes,sir.Wouldyoulikefreesaladandgarlicbread?”
“No,that’sfine,”Rodneyanswered,which,I’lladmit,wasaminordisappointment.
Thewaitressthenleftandwewerealoneunderthewarmambientglowofthependantlight.TakingRodneyinfromsuchaclosevantagepointmademeforgetallaboutsaladandgarlicbread.
Herestedhiselbowsonthetable,anetiquettefauxpasthatwasforgivablethisonetimesinceitofferedmeafineviewofhisforearms.
“Molly,you’reprobablywonderingwhatwasgoingontoday.Withthosemen.Inthathotelroom.Ididn’twantyoutogoawaythinkinganythingbadortostarttalkingaboutwhatyousaw.Iwantedachancetoexplain.”
Thewaitressreturnedwithourdrinks.
“Here’stous,”Isaid,holdingmywinestemdelicatelybetweentwofingersasGranhadtaughtme(Aladynevertouchesthebowl—itleavesunsightlyfingerprints).Rodneypickeduphisbeersteinandclinkeditagainstmyglass.Beingquitethirsty,hegulpedhalfofhisbeveragebeforesettingitbackdownonthetabletopwithaclang.
“LikeIwassaying,”hesaid.“Iwantedtoexplainwhatyousawtoday.”
Hepausedandstaredatme.
“Youreallydohavethemostarrestingblueeyes,”Isaid.“Ihopeyoudon’tfinditinappropriateofmetopointthatout.”
“Funny.Someoneelsetoldmethesamethingrecently.Anyhow,here’swhatIneedyoutoknow.Thosetwomeninthatroom?They’reJuanManuel’sfriends,notmine.Doyouunderstand?”
“Ithinkthat’slovely,”Isaid.“I’mgladhe’smadesomefriendshere.HisentirefamilyisinMexico,asyouknow.AndIthinkhemayfeellonelyfromtimetotime.That’ssomethingIcanunderstand,havingfeltlonelymyselffromtimetotime.Notnow,ofcourse.Idon’tfeellonelyatallinthisparticularmoment.”
Itookadeep,delicioussipfrommyglass.
“Sohere’sthethingyouprobablydon’tknowaboutmybuddyJuanManuel,”Rodneysaid.“He’sactuallynotadocumentedimmigrantatthemoment.Hisworkpermitranoutawhilebackandhe’snowworkingunderthetableatthehotel.Mr.Snowdoesn’tknowthat.IfJuanManuelwerecaught,he’dbekickedoutofthecountryandwouldneverbeabletosendmoneyhomeeveragain.Youknowhowimportanthisfamilyistohim,right?”
“Ido,”Isaid.“Familyisveryimportant.Wouldn’tyouagree?”
“Notsomuch,”hesaid.“Minedisownedmeyearsago.”Hetookanothergulpofhisbeer,thenwipedhismouthwiththebackofhishand.
“I’mverysorrytohearthat,”Isaid.Icouldn’timaginewhyanyonewouldturndownachancetobefamilialwithafinemanlikeRodney.
“Right,”hesaid.“Sothosetwomenyousawinthatroom?Thatbagtheyhad?ThatwasJuanManuel’sbag.Itwasn’ttheirs.Itdefinitelywasn’tmine.ItwasJuanManuel’s.Gotit?”
“Iunderstand,yes.Weallhavebaggage.”Ipaused,allowingampletimeforRodneytopickuponmycleverdoubleentendre.“That’sajoke,”Iexplained.“Thosemenwereliterallycarryingbaggage,buttheexpressionusuallyreferstopsychologicalbaggage.Yousee?”
“Yeah.Okay.SothethingisthatJuanManuel’slandlordfiguredouthispapersexpired.Hekickedhimoutofhisapartmentawhileback.Nowhehasnowheretolive.I’vebeenhelpingJuanManuelsortthingsout.Youknow,likewiththelaw,becauseIknowpeople.IdowhatIcantohelphimmakeendsmeet.Allofthisisasecret,Molly.Areyougoodatkeepingsecrets?”
Helockedeyeswithme,andIfeltthegreatprivilegeofbeinghisconfidante.
“OfcourseIcankeepasecret,”Isaid.“Especiallyyours.Ihavealockedboxnearmyheartforallofyourconfidences,”IsaidasImimedlockingaboxonmychest.
“Cool,”hereplied.“Sothere’smore.It’slikethis.Everynight,I’vesecretlybeenputtingJuanManuelupinadifferentroomatthehotelsothathedoesn’thavetosleeponthestreets.Butnoonecanknow,youunderstand?IfanyonefoundoutwhatIwasdoing…”
“You’dbeinalotoftrouble.AndJuanManuelwouldbehomeless,”Isaid.
“Yeah.Exactly,”hereplied.
Yetagain,Rodneywasprovingwhatagoodmanhewas.Outofthegoodnessofhisheart,hewashelpingafriend.IwassomovedIwasatalossforwords.
Fortunately,thewaitressreturnedandfilledthesilencewithmyTourofItalyplatterandRodney’sspaghettiandmeatballs.
“Bonappétit,”Isaid.
Ihadafewextremelysatisfyingmouthfuls,thenputmyforkdown.“Rodney,I’mveryimpressedbyyou.You’reafineman.”
Rodney’smouthbulgedwithameatball.“Itry,”hesaid,chewingandswallowing.“ButIcoulduseyourhelp,Molly.”
“Helphow?”Iasked.
“It’sgettingharderformetoknowwhichhotelroomsarevacant.Let’sjustsaytherearekeystafferswhousedtoslipmeinfo,buttheymightnotbesointomeanymore.Butyou…you’rebeyondsuspicion,andyouknowwhichroomsarefreeeverynight.Plus,you’resogoodatcleaningthingsup,justlikeyouprovedtoday.Itwouldbeamazingifyoucouldtellmewhichroomisemptyonanygivennightandifyoucouldmakesureyou’retheonetocleanitbeforeandafterwe—Imean,JuanManuelandhisfriends—staythere.Youknow,justmakesurethere’snosignofanyonehavingeverbeenthereatall.”
Icarefullyplacedmycutleryontheedgeofmyplate.Itookanothersipofwine.Icouldfeeltheeffectsofthebeveragereachingmyextremitiesandmycheeks,makingmefeelliberatedanduninhibited,twothingsIhadn’tfeltin…well,aslongasIcouldrecall.
“IwouldbedelightedtohelpyouinanywayIcan,”Isaid.
Heputhisforkdownwithaclatterandreachedformyhand.Thesensationwaspleasinglyelectric.“IknewIcouldcountonyou,Molly,”hesaid.
Itwasalovelycompliment.Iwasstruckspeechlessagain,lostinthosedeepbluepools.
“Andonemorething.Youwon’ttellanyoneaboutanyofthis,right?Aboutwhatyousawtoday?Youwon’tsayaword,especiallynottoSnow.OrPreston.OrevenChernobyl.”
“Thatgoeswithoutsaying,Rodney.Whatyou’redoingisvigilantejustice.It’smakingsomethingrightinaworldthat’ssooftenwrong.Iunderstandthat.RobinHoodhadtomakeexceptionsinordertohelpthepoor.”
“Yeah,that’sme.I’mRobinHood.”Hepickeduphisforkagainandpoppedafreshmeatballintohismouth.“Molly,Icouldkissyou.Ireallycould.”
“Thatwouldbewonderful.Shallwewaituntilafteryouswallow?”
Helaughedthenandquicklygobbledtherestofhispasta.Ididn’tevenhavetoask:Iknewhewaslaughingwithme,notatme.
Iwashopingwecouldlingerlongerandorderdessert,butassoonashisplatewasfinished,hepromptlyaskedthewaitressforthebill.
Whenwewereleavingtherestaurant,heheldthedooropenforme,aperfectgentleman.Oncewewereoutside,hesaid,“Sowehaveadeal,right?Onefriendhelpinganother?”
“Yes.Atthebeginningofmyshift,I’lltellJuanManuelwhatroomhecanstayinthatnight.I’llgivehimakeycardandtheroomnumber.AndI’llpopinearlyeverymorningtocleantheroomheandhisfriendswereinthenightbefore.Cheryl’stardinessislegendary,soshewon’tevennotice.”
“That’sperfect,Molly.Youreallyareaspecialgirl.”
IknewfromCasablancaandGonewiththeWindthatthiswasthemoment.Ileanedforwardsohecouldkissme.Ithinkhewasaimingformycheek,butImovedinsuchawayastosuggestIwasnotopposedtoakissonthemouth.Unfortunately,theconnectionwasalittlemisaligned,thoughmynosewasnotentirelydisappointedbytheunexpectedaffection.
Inthatmoment,whenRodneykissedme,itdidn’tmatterwherehislipslanded.Infact,nothingexceptthekissmatteredtomeatall,notthesplotchofredsauceonhiscollar,notthewayhereachedforhisphonerightafter,noteventhepieceoflimpbasilstuckbetweenhisteeth.
It’salmosttheendofmyshift.Playingoverourfirstdateinmymindhasmadethedaygobyquicklyandhasamplifiedmyanticipationforourdatetonight.Ithasalsohelpedmeavoidmemoriesofyesterday.Forthemostpart,I’vebeensuccessfulatkeepingtheflashbacksatbay.TherewasjusttheoneinstancewhenIrememberedMr.Black,deadinhisbed,andforsomereason,inmymind,suddenly,itwasRodney’sfaceonMr.Black’sbody,asthoughtheyweretwinned,inextricablylinked.
Whatutterrubbish.HowcouldIimaginethemconnectedlikethat,whentheyexistonpolaroppositesofsomanyspectrums—oldversusyoung,deadversusalive,evilversusgood?Ishookmyheadbackandforthtoerasethenastyimage.AndjustlikewithanEtch-a-Sketch,agoodshakewasallittooktowipemymindclean.
TheotherintrusivethoughtsI’vehadtodayareofGiselle.Iknowshe’sstillstayinginthehotel,butIdon’tknowwhere,whichroomonthesecondfloor.Idowonderhowshe’sdoing,whatwithherhusbanddead.Isshehappyaboutthisturnofevents?Orisshesad?Issherelievedtobefreefromhimorconcernedaboutherfuture?Whatdoesshestandtoinherit,ifanythingatall?Ifthenewspapersareright,she’stheheirapparenttothefamilyfortune,butMr.Black’sfirstwifeandkidswillnodoubthavesomethingtosayaboutthat.AndifI’velearnedanythingaboutthewaymoneyworks,it’sthatitmagnetizestowardthosebornwithit,leavingthosewhoneeditmostwithout.
Itweighsonme—whatwillbecomeofGiselle.
Thisistheproblemwithfriendships.Sometimesyouknowthingsyoushouldn’tknow;sometimesyoucarryotherpeople’ssecretsforthem.Andsometimes,thatburdentakesitstoll.
It’sfour-thirtyP.M.,onlyhalfanhourbeforeI’mduetomeetRodneyattheSocialforourdate.Ourseconddate—progress!
IscootdownthehallwithmytrolleytoletSunshineknowI’mdonecleaningallmyrooms,includingtheoneJuanManuelstayedinlastnight.
“You’reaquickone,youare,MissMolly!”Sunshinesays.“I’vegotmoreroomstofinish,myself.”
Isaygoodbyefortheday,thenpassbythepoliceofficeronmywaytotheelevator,buthebarelyregistersmypresence.Itaketheelevatortothebasement.Ipeeloffmymaiduniformandchangeintomyregularclothes,somejeansandafloralblouse—notquitewhatIwouldhavechosenforadatewithRodney,butI’venomoremoneytospendonexcessessuchaskittenheelsandpolkadots.Besides,ifRodney’strulyagoodegg,he’lljudgebytheyolk,notbytheshell.
Atfivetofive,I’mdownstairsatthefrontoftheSocial,waitingbythePleaseBeSeatedsign,lookingaroundforRodney.Heseesme,comesfromthebackoftherestaurantrighttomyside.
“Justintime,Isee.”
“Ipridemyselfonpunctuality,”Ireply.
“Let’sgotoaboothattheback.”
“Privacy.Yes,thatseemsappropriate.”
Wewalkthroughtherestauranttothemostsecluded—andromantic—boothattheback.
“It’sveryquietherenow,”Isay,takingintheemptychairs,thetwowaitressesbytheirservicestationtalkingtoeachotherbecausethere’shardlyacustomerinsight.
“Yeah.Wasn’tlikethisearlier.Lotsofcops.Andreporters.”Helooksaroundtheroom,thenatme.Hisbruisedeyelooksabitbetterthanitdidthismorning,butit’sstillswollen.
“Listen,I’mreallysorryaboutwhathappenedtoyouyesterday,findingMr.Blackandallthat.Plus,beingtakentothecopshop.Thatmusthavebeenintense.”
“Itwasadisruptiveday.Todayisgoingmuchbetter.Especiallynow,”Iadd.
“Sotellme,whenyouwerewiththecops,IhopenothingaboutJuanManuelcameup.”
Thisisaperplexinglineofinquiry.“No,”Isay.“ThathasnothingtodowithMr.Black.”
“Right.Ofcourseitdoesn’t.Butyouknow.Copscanbenosy.Ijustwanttomakesurehe’ssafe.”Herunsthefingersofonehandthroughhisthick,wavyhair.“Canyoutellmewhathappened,whatyousawinthatsuiteyesterday?”heasks.“Imean,I’msureyou’refeelingreallyscared,andmaybeitwouldhelptosayitalloutloudto,youknow,afriend.”
Hereacheshishandouttotouchmine.It’samazing,thehumanhand,howmuchwarmthitconveys.I’vemissedphysicalcontact,whatwithoutGraninmylife.Sheusedtodoexactlythis,putherhandoverminetodrawmeoutandgetmetotalk.Herhandletmeknowthatnomatterwhat,everythingwouldbeokay.
“Thankyou,”IsaytoRodney.Itsurprisesme;itcomesoutofnowhere—theurgetocry.IfightitasItellhimaboutyesterday.“ItallseemedlikeanormaldayuntilIwenttofinishcleaningtheBlacks’room.Isteppedinsideandsawthatthesittingroomwasuntidy.Iwasonlysupposedtocleanthebathroom,butthenIwentintothebedroomtoseeifthatwasamessaswell,andtherehewas,laidoutonthebed.Ithoughthewasnapping,but…itturnsouthewasdead.Verydead.”
Atthis,Rodneytakeshisotherhandsothathe’scradlingmineinbothofhis.“Oh,Molly,”hesays.“That’sjustawful.And…didyouseeanythingintheroom?Anythingoutofplaceorsuspicious?”
Itellhimaboutthesafebeingopen,howthemoneywasgone,alongwiththedeedI’dseeninMr.Black’sbreastpocketearlierintheday.
“Andthat’sit?Nothingelseoutoftheordinary?”
“Actually,yes,”Isay.ItellhimaboutGiselle’spillsspilledonthefloor
“Whatpills?”heasks.
“Gisellehasanunmarkedbottle.Itwasthatbottle,spilledbyMr.Black’sbedside.”
“Shit.You’rekiddingme.”
“I’mnot.”
“AndwherewasGiselle?”
“Idon’tknow.Shewasn’tinthesuite.Inthemorning,sheseemedquiteupset.Iknowshewasplanningatrip,becauseIsawherflightitinerarystickingoutofherpurse.”Ishiftinmychair,bringingmychintorestonmyhandcoquettishly,likeastarletinaclassicfilm.
“Didyoutellthecopsthat?Abouttheitinerary?Orthepills?”
I’mgrowingincreasinglyimpatientwiththislineofinterrogation,yetIknowthatpatienceisavirtue,avirtuethat,amongothers,Ihopeheattributestome.
“Itoldthemaboutthepills,”Isay.“ButIdidn’twanttosaymuchelse.Tobehonest,andIhopeyou’llkeepthisconfidential,Gisellehasbeenmorethanjustaguest.She’s…well,she’sbecomeafriendtome.AndI’mquiteworriedabouther.Thenatureofthepolicequestions,theywere…”
“What?Theywerewhat?”
“Itwasalmostasthoughtheyweresuspicious.Ofher.”
“ButdidBlackdieofnaturalcausesornot?”
“Thepolicewerefairlycertainthatwasthecase.Butnotcompletely.”
“Didtheyaskanythingelse?AboutGiselle?Aboutme?”
Ifeelsomethingslitherinmystomach,asthoughasleepingdragonwerejustrousedfromitstorpor.“Rodney,”Isay,withanedgeinmyvoicethatIhavetroublehiding.“Whywouldtheyaskaboutyou?”
“Thatwasstupid,”hesays.“NoideawhyIsaidthat.Forgetit.”
HepullshishandsawayandIimmediatelywishhewouldputthemback.
“IguessI’mjustworried.ForGiselle.Forthehotel.Forallofus,really.”
ItoccurstomethenthatI’mmissingsomething.EveryyearatChristmas,GranandIwouldsetupacardtableinthelivingroomandworkonapuzzletogetheraswelistenedtoChristmascarolsontheradio.Theharderthepuzzle,thehappierwewere.AndI’mfeelingthesamesensationIfeltwhenGranandIwerechallengedbyareallyhardpuzzle.It’sasifI’mnotquiteputtingthepiecestogetherproperly.
Thenitoccurstome.“Yousaidyoudon’tknowGisellewell.Isthatcorrect?”
Hesighs.Iknowwhatthismeans.I’veexasperatedhim,eventhoughIdidn’tmeanto.
“Can’taguybeconcernedforsomeonewhoseemslikeaniceperson?”heasks.There’sasharpcliptohisconsonantsthatremindsmeofCherylwhenshe’suptosomethingunsanitary.
Imustcourse-correctbeforeIputRodneyoffmeentirely.“I’msorry,”Isay,smilingwidelyandleaningforwardinmychair.“Youhaveeveryrighttobeconcerned.It’sjustthewayyouare.Youcareaboutothers.”
“Exactly.”Hereachesintohisbackpocketandtakesouthisphone.“Molly,takemynumber,”hesays.
Afrissonofexcitementflittersthroughme,removinganyandallslitheringdoubt.“Youwantmetohaveyourphonenumber?”I’vedoneit.I’vemendedfences.Ourdateisbackontrack.
“Ifanythinghappens—likethepolicebotheryouagainorasktoomanyquestions—youjustletmeknow.I’llbethereforyou.”
Itakeoutmyphoneandweexchangenumbers.WhenIwritemynameinhisphone,Ifeelinclinedtoaddanidentifier.“Molly,MaidandFriend,”Itype.Ievenaddaheartemojiattheendasadeclarationofamorousintent.
MyhandsfeeljitteryasIpassbackhisphone.I’mhopinghe’lllookatmyentryandseetheheart,buthedoesn’t.
Mr.Snowenterstherestaurantthen.Iseehimbythebar,grabbingsomepaperworkbeforeleaving.Rodneyisslouchingintheseatoppositeme.Heshouldnotbeshyaboutremainingintheworkplaceaftertheendofhisshift—Mr.Snowsaysthat’sasignofanA++employee.
“Listen,I’vegottago,”Rodneysays.“You’llcallifanythingcomesup?”
“Iwill,”Isay.“Imostdefinitelywillmakephonecontact.”
HegetsupfromtheboothandIfollowhimoutthelobbyandthroughthefrontdoors.Mr.Prestonisjustoutsidetheentrance.
Iwaveandhetipshishat.
“Hey,anycabsaroundhere?”Rodneyasks.
“Ofcourse,”Mr.Prestonsays.Hewalkstothestreet,blowshiswhistle,andwavesdownataxi.Whenitpullsover,Mr.Prestonopensthebackdoor.“Inyougo,Molly,”hesays.
“No,no,”Rodneyreplies.“Thecab’sforme.You’regoing…somewhereelse,right,Molly?”
“I’mgoingeast,”Isay.
“Right.I’mwest.Haveagoodnight!”
RodneygetsinandMr.Prestonclosesthedoor.Asthetaxipullsaway,Rodneywavesatmethroughthewindow.
“I’llcallyou!”Iyellafterhim.
Mr.Prestonstandsbesideme.“Molly,”hesays.“Becarefulwiththatone.”
“WithRodney?Why?”Iask.
“Becausethat,deargirl,isafrog.Andnotallfrogsturnouttobeprinces.”
Iwalkhomebriskly,fullofenergyandbutterfliesfrommytimewithRodney.IthinkbacktoMr.Preston’suncharitablecommentaboutfrogsandprinces.Itoccurstomehoweasyitistomisjudgepeople.EvenanupstandingmanlikeMr.Prestoncansometimesgetitwrong.Minusthesmoothchest,Rodneyentirelylacksamphibiousqualities.Mychiefesthopeisthatwhileheisnotafrog,Rodneywillturnouttobetheprinceofmyveryownfairytale.
IwondertomyselfwhattheetiquetteisaroundwaittimesbeforeIdialRodney’sphonenumber.ShouldIcallhimimmediatelytothankhimforourdateorshouldIwaituntiltomorrow?PerhapsIshouldtexthiminstead?MyonlyexperiencewithsuchmatterswaswithWilbur,whodespisedtalkingonthephoneandusedtextmessagesfortime-ortask-relatedcorrespondenceonly:“Expectedarrivaltime:7:03,”“Bananasonsale:0.49cents.Buywhilequantitieslast.”IfGranwerestillaround,I’daskforadvice,butthatisnolongeranoption.
AsIapproachmybuilding,Inoticeafamiliarfigurestandingoutsidethefrontdoors.ForamomentI’msureI’mhallucinating,butasIgetcloser,Iseeitreallyisher.She’swearingherlargedarksunglassesandcarryingherprettyyellowpurse.
“Giselle?”IsayasIapproach.
“Oh,thankGod.Molly,I’msogladtoseeyou.”BeforeIcansayanythingelse,sheopensherarmsandhugsmetight.I’matalossforwords,mostlybecauseIcanbarelybreathe.Shereleasesme,tipshersunglassesbacksoIcanseeherred-rimmedeyes.“CanIcomein?”
“Ofcourse,”Isay.“Ican’tbelieveyou’rehere.I’m…I’msopleasedtoseeyou.”
“NotaspleasedasIamtoseeyou,”shesays.
Irummagethroughmypocketsandmanagetofindmykeys.MyhandsshakealittleasIopenthedoorandinviteherintomybuilding.
Shestepsingingerlyandlooksaroundthelobby.Crumpledflyerslittertheground,surroundedbymuddyfootprintsandcigarettebutts—suchafilthyhabit.Herfaceregistersdisdainatthemess,somuchsothatIcanreaditclearly.
“It’sunfortunate,isn’tit?Idowisheverytenantwouldparticipateinkeepingtheentranceclean.Ithinkyou’llfindGran’s…myapartmentmuchmoresanitary,”Isay.
Iguideherthroughtheentranceandtowardthestairwell.
Shelooksuptheloomingstaircase.“Whatfloorareyouon?”sheasks.
“Fifth,”Isay.
“Canwetaketheelevator?”
“Idoapologize.Thereisn’tone.”
“Wow,”shesays,butshejoinsmeinmarchingupthestairseventhoughshe’swearingimpossiblyhighheels.WemakeittothefifthlandingandIrushaheadofhertoopenthebrokenfiredoor.ItcreaksasIpullit.Shestepsthroughandweemergeontomyfloor.I’msuddenlyawareofthedimlightingandburntbulbs,thepeelingwallpaperandthegeneraltattinessofthesecorridors.Ofcourse,Mr.Rosso,mylandlord,hearsusapproachandchoosespreciselythatmomenttoemergefromhisapartment.
“Molly,”hesays.“OnyourgoodGran’sgrave,whenareyougoingtopaymewhat’sowed?”
Ifeelablastofheatrisetomyface.“Thisweek.Restassured.You’llgetwhat’scomingtoyou.”Iimagineabigredbucketfullofsoapywaterandpushinghisbulbousheadintoit.
GiselleandIkeepwalkingbyhim.Oncewe’repast,sherollshereyescomically,whichtomeisagreatrelief,sinceIwasconcernedshe’dthinkpoorlyofmefornotkeepingupwithmyrent.Clearly,that’snotwhatshe’sthinkingatall.
Iputmykeyinthelockandshakilyopenmyfrontdoor.“Afteryou,”Isay.
Gisellewalksinandlooksaround.Istepinbehindher,notknowingwheretostand.Iclosethedoorandslidetherustydeadboltacross.ShetakesinGran’spaintingsintheentry,ladiesloungingbylazyriversides,eatingpicnicdelicaciesfromawickerbasket.ShespotstheoldwoodenchairbythedoorwithGran’sneedlepointpillowonit.Shepicksitupinbothhands.HerlipsmoveasshereadstheSerenityPrayer.
“Huh,”shesays.“Interesting.”Suddenly,rightthereinthedoorway,herfacecontortsintoagrimaceandtearsfillhereyes.Shehugsthepillowtoherchestandbeginstosobquietly.
Myshakinggetsworse.I’matatotalloss.WhyisGiselleatmyhouse?Whyisshecrying?AndwhatamIsupposedtodo?
Iputmykeysdownontheemptychair.
There’snothingyoucaneverdobutyourbest,IhearGransayinmyhead.
“Giselle,areyouupsetbecauseMr.Blackisdead?”Iask.ButthenIrememberthatmostpeopledon’tappreciatethiskindofdirecttalk.“Sorry,”Isay,correctingmyself.“WhatImeanisI’msorryforyourloss.”
“You’resorry?Why?”sheasksbetweensobs.“I’mnotsorry.I’mnotsorryatall.”Sheputsthepillowbackinitsplace,patsitonce,thentakesadeepbreath.
Iremovemyshoes,wipethebottomswiththeclothfromthecloset,andputthemaway.
Shewatchesme.“Oh,”shesays.“IguessIshouldtaketheseoff.”Sheremovesherglossyblackheelswiththeredbottoms,heelssotallIhavenoideahowshemadeitupthosefiveflightsofstairs.
Shegesturesformetohandherthecloth.
“No,no,”Isay.You’remyguest.”Itakehershoes,whicharefineandsleek,adelighttohold,andItuckthemawayinthecloset.Shetakesinourcrampedquarters,hereyestravelinguptotheflakingliving-roomceiling,wherecircularstainsbleedthroughfromtheapartmentabove.
“Don’tmindappearances,”Isay.“There’snotmuchIcandowhenitcomestohowthoseaboveconductthemselves.”
Shenods,thenwipesthetearsfromhercheeks.
Irushtothekitchen,grabatissue,andbringittoher.“Atissueforyourissue,”Isay.
“OhmyGod,Molly,”shereplies.“You’vegottostopsayingthatwhenpeopleareupset.They’lltakeitthewrongway.”
“Ionlymeant—”
“Iknowwhatyoumeant.Butotherpeoplewon’t.”
I’mquietforamomentasItakethisin,storingherlessoninthevaultofmymind.
We’restillintheentranceway.I’mfrozeninmyspot,unsureofwhattodonext,whattosay.IfonlyGranwerehere….
“Thisisthepartwhereyouinvitemeintothelivingroom,”Gisellesays.“Youtellmetomakemyselfathomeorsomethinglikethat.”
Ifeelthebutterfliesinmystomach.“I’msorry,”Isay.“Wedon’t…Idon’thavecompanyveryoften.Orever.Granusedtoinviteselectfriendsroundfromtimetotime,butsinceshedied,it’sbeenratherquiethere.”Idon’ttellherthatshe’sthefirstguesttopassthroughthedoorinninemonths,butthat’stheGod’shonesttruth.She’salsothefirstguestI’veeverentertainedonmyown.Somethingoccurstome.
“Mygranalwayssaid,‘Agoodcupofteawillcureallills,andifitdoesn’t,haveanother.’Wouldyoulikeone?”
“Sure,”shesays.“Can’trememberthelasttimeIhadtea.”
Ihurrytothekitchentoputthekettleon.IpeekatGisellefromthedoorwayasshestrollsaroundthelivingroom.I’mgladthatit’sTuesday,asIjustwashedthefloorslastnight.AtleastIknowtheyarecleantoperfection.Gisellewalksovertothewindowsatthefarendofthelivingroom.ShetouchesthefrilledtrimonGran’sflowerycurtains,curtainsshesewedherselfmanyyearsago.
AsIplaceteainthepot,GisellemovestoGran’scuriocabinet.ShecrouchestoadmiretheSwarovskimenagerie,thentakesintheframedphotosangledontop.Itmakesmeslightlyuncomfortablebutalsoatadgiddythatshe’shereinmyhome.WhileI’mconfidentthattheapartmentisclean,it’snotappointedinthemannertowhichawomanofGiselleBlack’sstationwouldbeaccustomed.Idon’tknowwhatshe’sthinking.Perhapsshe’shorrifiedbythewayIlive.Itisnotlikethehotelatall.Itisnotgrand.Thishasalwaysbeenfinebyme,butperhapsit’snotfinebyher.It’sadiscomfitingthought.
Ipopmyheadoutofthekitchen.“PleaserestassuredthatImaintainthehighestlevelofsanitationatalltimesinthisapartment.Unfortunately,onamaid’ssalary,I’mnotabletopurchaseextravagantitemsorkeepupwithmoderndécortrends.I’msuretoyouthishomeappearsdatedandold-fashioned.Perhapsalittle…worn?”
“Molly,youhavenoideahowthingsappeartome.Youdon’treallyknowmuchaboutme.YouthinkI’vealwayslivedlikeIdonow?DoyouknowwhereI’mfrom?”
“Martha’sVineyard,”Isay.
“No,that’sjustwhatCharlestellseveryone.I’mactuallyfromDetroit.Andnotthenicesideoftown.Thisplaceactuallyremindsmeofhome.Imean,homefromlongago.HomebeforeIfoundmyselfallalone.BeforeIranawayandneverlookedback.”
IwatchfromthekitchendoorwayassheleansintoinspectaphotoofGranandmetakenoverfifteenyearsago.Iwastenyearsold.Granenrolledusbothinabakingclass.Inthisshot,we’rewearingcomicallylargechefhats.Granislaughing,thoughIlookveryserious.Irecallbeingdispleasedbytheflourdustedonourpantrytable.Itwasallovermyhandsandapron.Gisellepicksupthephotonexttoit.
“Whoa,”shesays.“Isthisyoursister?”
“No,”Isay.“It’smymother.Itwastakenalongtimeago.”
“Youlookexactlylikeher.”I’mwellawareofourresemblance,especiallyinthatphoto.Herhairisshoulder-lengthanddark,framinghermoonface.Granalwayslovedthatphoto.Shecalledither“twofer,”becauseitremindedherofthedaughtershelostandthegranddaughtershegained.
“Wheredoesyourmomlivenow?”
“Shedoesn’t,”Isay.“She’sdead.Alongwithmygrandmother.”
Thewaterisboiling.Iturnofftheelementandpourthewaterintoateapot.
“Minearegonetoo,”shesays.“WhichiswhyIleftDetroit.”
IplacethepotonGran’sbestandonlysilverservingtrayalongsidetwoproperporcelaincupsandtwopolishedteaspoons;adouble-eared,cut-crystalsugarbowl;andasmallantiquepitcherofmilk.Alloftheseitemsstorememories—GranandIforaginginsecondhandshopsorpickingthroughboxesofdiscardeditemsleftoutsidetherowofausteremansionsontheColdwells’street.
“I’msorryaboutyourmother,”Gisellesays.“Andyourgrandmother.”
“Youhavenoreasontobe.Youdidn’thaveanythingtodowithit.”
“IknowIdidn’t,butthat’sjustwhatyousay.Likeyoudidwithmeatthedoor.YousaidyouweresorryaboutCharles.Youofferedyourcondolences.”
“ButMr.Blackdiedyesterday,andmymotherdiedmanyyearsago.”
“Itdoesn’tmatter,”Gisellesays.“That’sjustwhatyousay.”
“Thankyou.Forexplaining.”
“Sure.Anytime.”
Itrulyamgratefulforherguidance.WithGrangone,muchofthetimeIfeellikeablindpersoninaminefield.I’mconstantlystumblinguponsocialimproprietieshiddenunderthesurfaceofthings.ButwithGisellearound,IfeellikeI’mwearingabreastplateandamflankedbyanarmedguard.OneofthereasonswhyIloveworkingattheRegencyGrandisthatthere’sarulebookforconduct.IcanrelyonMr.Snow’strainingtotellmehowtoact,whattosaywhen,how,andtowhom.Ifinditrelievingtohaveguidance.
Itaketheteatrayintothesittingroom.Itrattlesinmyhands.Gisellesitsdownontheworstpartofthesofa,wherethespringspokethroughatad,thoughGranhascoveredthemwithacrochetedblanket.Isitbesideher.
Ipourtwocupsoftea.Ipickupmine,theonerimmedwithgoldanddecoratedindaisychains,thenrealizemyerror.“Sorry.Wouldyoupreferthiscuporthatone?I’musedtotakingthedaisies.GranwouldtaketheEnglishcottagescene.I’mabitofacreatureofhabit.”
“Youdon’tsay,”Gisellesays,andpicksupGran’scup.Shehelpsherselftotwoheapingteaspoonsofsugarandsomemilk.Shestirsthecontents.She’sneverdonemuchhousework,that’sforsure.Herhandsaresmoothandflawless,hermanicurednailslongandpolishedbloodred.
Giselletakesasip,swallows.“Listen,Iknowyou’reprobablywonderingwhyI’mhere.”
“Iwasworriedforyou,andI’mgladyou’rehere,”Isay.
“Molly,yesterdaywastheworstdayofmylife.Thecopswerealloverme.Theytookmetothestation.TheyquestionedmelikeI’msomekindofcommoncriminal.”
“Iwasworriedthatwouldhappen.Youdon’tdeservethat.”
“Iknow.Buttheydon’t.TheyaskedmeifIgottooeagerasapotentialheirtoCharles’sestate.Itoldthemtotalktomylawyers,notthatIhaveany.Charleshandledallofthat.God,itwasawful,tobeaccusedofsuchathing.ThenassoonasIgotbacktothehotel,Charles’sdaughter,Victoria,calledme.”
IfeelatremorjoltmeasIpickupmyteacupandtakeasip.“Ahyes,theforty-nine-percentshareholder.”
“That’swhatsheownedbefore.Nowshe’llownoverhalfofeverything,whichiswhathermotheralwayswanted.‘Womenandbusinessdon’tmix,’Charlessays…said.Accordingtohim,womencan’thandledirtywork.”
“That’spreposterous,”Isay.ThenIcatchmyself.“Apologies.It’srudetotalkillofthedead.”
“It’sokay.Hedeservesit.Anyhow,hisdaughtersaidwayworsethingstomeonthephone.Doyouknowwhatshecalledme?Herfather’sPradaparasite,hismidlifemistake,nottomentionhiskiller.Shewasragingsomuch,hermothertookthephoneawayfromher.Calmasanything,Mrs.Black—thefirstMrs.Black—says,‘Iapologizeformydaughter.Weallreacttogriefindifferentways.’Canyoubelieveit?Whileherlunaticdaughterisyellinginthebackground,tellingmetowatchmyback.”
“Youdon’thavetoworryaboutVictoria,”Isay.
“Oh,Molly,you’resotrusting.Youhavenoideahowviciousitisoutthereintherealworld.Everyonewantstoseemegodown.Itdoesn’tmatterthatI’minnocent.Theyhateme.Andforwhat?Thepolice,theysuggestedthatIwasviolentagainstCharles.Unbelievable!”
IwatchGisellecarefully.IrememberthedayshetoldmeaboutMr.Black’smistresses,howshewassoangryshereallydidwanttokillhim.Butthoughtandactionaredifferentthings.They’redifferentthingsentirely.Ifanyoneknowsthis,Ido.
“ThepolicethinkIkilledmyownhusband,”shesays.
“Forwhatit’sworth,Iknowyoudidn’t.”
“Thankyou,Molly,”shesays.
Herhandsareshakinglikemineare.Shesetshercupdownonthetable.“I’llnevergethowadecentwomanlikeCharles’sex-wifecouldraisesuchabitchofadaughter.”
“PerhapsVictoriatakesafterherfather,”Isay.IrememberGiselle’sbruisesandhowtheycametobe.Myfingerstightenonthedelicatehandleofmyteacup.IfIgripitanyharder,itwillshatterintoamillionpieces.Breathe,Molly.Breathe.
“Mr.Black,hewasn’tgoodtoyou,”Isay.“Hewas,inmyestimation,averybadegg.”
Gisellelooksdownatherlap.Shesmoothsouttheedgesofhersatinskirt.Sheispicture-perfect.It’sasifacinemastarfromthegoldenagejustcrawledoutofGran’sTVandmagicallytookaseatbesidemeonthesofa.ThatthoughtseemsmoreprobablethanGisellebeingreal,asocialitewhoisactuallyfriendswithalowlymaid.
“Charlesdidn’talwaystreatmewell,buthelovedme,inhisway.AndIlovedhiminmyway.Idid.”Herbiggreeneyesfillwithtears.
IthinkofWilbur,howhestoletheFabergé.AnyfondnessIfeltforhimturnedtobitternessinaninstant.IwouldhavecookedhiminavatoflyeifIcouldhavedonesowithoutrepercussion.Andyet,Giselle,whohasjustcausetohateCharles,holdsontoherloveforhim.Howcurious,thewaydifferentpeoplereacttosimilarstimuli.
Itakeasipoftea.“Yourhusbandwasacheater.Andhebeatyou,”Isay.
“Wow.Areyousureyoudon’twanttotellitlikeitis?”
“Ijustdid,”Isay.
Shenods.“WhenImetCharles,Ithoughtmylifewasmade.IthoughtI’dfinallyfoundsomeonewhowouldlookafterme,whohaditallandwhoadoredme.Hemademefeelspecial,likeIwastheonlywomanintheworld.Thingswereokayforawhile.Untiltheyweren’t.Andyesterday,wehadahugefightrightbeforeyoucameintocleanthesuite.ItoldhimIwassickofourlife,sickofgoingfromcitytocity,hoteltohotel,allforhis‘business.’Isaid,‘Whycan’twejustsettledownsomewhere,likeatthevillaintheCaymans,andjustliveandenjoylifelikenormalpeople?’
“Peopledon’tknowthis,butwhenwegotmarried,hemademesignaprenupsononeofhispropertiesorassetsbelongtome.Ithurt,thathedidn’ttrustme,butlikeanidiot,Isignedit.Fromthatmomenton,thingsweredifferentbetweenus.Thesecondweweremarried,Iwasn’tspecialanymore.Andhewasfreetogivemewhathewantedandtakeitawayatanytime.That’sexactlywhathe’sdonethroughoutourtwoyearsofmarriage.IfhelikedthewayIacted,giftswouldbeshowereduponme—diamondsanddesignershoes,exotictrips—buthewasajealousman.IfIsomuchaslaughedataguy’sjokeataparty,I’dbepunished.Andnotjustbyhimturningoffthemoneytap.”Oneofherhandsflitsuptohercollarbone.“Ishouldhaveknown.It’snotlikeIwasn’twarned.”
Gisellepauses,getsup,andretrievesherpursebythedoor.Sherummagesaroundandherhandemergeswithtwopills.Shesetsherpursedownonthechairbythedoor,returnstothesofa,andpopsthetwopillsinhermouth,washingthemdownwithsometea.
“Yesterday,IaskedCharlesifhewouldconsidercancelingourprenuporatleastputtingtheCaymanvillainmyname.We’vebeenmarriedfortwoyears;heshouldtrustmebynow,right?AllIwantedwasaplacetoescapetowhenthepressuregetstoomuchforme.Itoldhim,‘Youcankeepgrowingyourbusiness,ifthat’swhatyouwant—yourBlackempire.Butatleastgivemethedeedtothevilla.Withmynameonit.Aplacetocallmyown.Ahome.’?”
IthinkbacktotheitineraryIsawinherpurse.IfthetripwasforherandMr.Black,whyweretheflightsone-way?
“HelostitonmewhenIsaidtheword‘home.’Hesaideveryonealwaysliestohim,triestostealhismoney,takesadvantageofhim.Hewasdrunk,stormingaroundtheroom,sayingIwasjustlikehisex-wife.Hecalledmealotofthings—amoney-grabber,agolddigger…adime-storewhore.Hegotsomadthathepulledoffhisweddingringandthrewitacrosstheroom.Hesaid,‘Fine,haveityourway!’Thenheopenedthesafe,rootedaroundinthere,stuffedsomepaperinhissuitpocket,thenpushedpastmeandstormedoutoftheroom.”
Iknewwhatthatpaperwas.I’dseenitinhispocket—thedeedtothevillaintheCaymans.
“Molly,that’swhenyoucameinthesuite,remember?”
Ididremember—thewayMr.Blackpushedpastme,justanotheraggravatinghumanobstacleinhispath.
“SorryIwasactingsoweird.Butnowyouknowwhy.”
“That’squiteallright,”Isay.“Mr.Blackwasfarruderthanyouwere.Andtobehonest,Ithoughtyouweresad,notmad.”
Shesmiles.“Youknowwhat,Molly?Youunderstandmorethananyonegivesyoucreditfor.”
“Yes,”Isay.
“Idon’tcarewhatanyoneelsethinks.You’rethebest.”
Icanfeelmyfaceflushatthecompliment.BeforeIhaveachancetoaskwhatotherpeoplethinkaboutme,astrangetransformationwashesoverGiselle.Whateverisinthepillsshejusttook,thechangehappensquickly.It’slikeshe’sturningfromsolidtoliquidbeforemyeyes.Hershouldersrelaxandherfacesoftens.IrememberGranwhenshewassick,howthemedicationsrelievedthepainjustlikethis,forawhileatleast,howherfacewouldturnfromatight,stonygrimacetoalookofpeacefulblisssoclearthatevenIcouldreaditinstantly.ThosepillsworkedmagiconGran.Untiltheydidn’t.Untiltheyweren’tenough.Untilnothingwasenough.
Giselleturnstofacemeandsitscross-leggedonthecouch.ShewrapsGran’sblanketaroundherlegs.“Youfoundhim,right?Charles?Itwasyouwhofirstfoundhim?”
“Itwasme.Yes.”
“Andtheytookyoutothestation?That’swhatIheard.”
“Correct.”
“Sowhatdidyoutellthem?”Shebringsonehandtoherlipsandnibblesattheskinbyherindexfinger.Iwanttotellherthatnail-bitingisafilthyhabitandnottoruinherlovelymanicure,butIrefrain.
“ItoldthedetectivewhatIsaw.HowIenteredthesuitetoreturnittoastateofperfection,howIfeltperhapsitwasoccupied,howIenteredthebedroomtofindMr.Blacklyingonthebed.AndwhenIinvestigatedfurther,Irealizedhewasdead.”
“Andwasthereanythingweirdaboutthesuite?”
“He’dbeendrinking,”Isay.“WhichI’mafraidIdon’tconsiderunusualforMr.Black.”
“Yougotthatright,”shesays.
“But…yourpills.They’reusuallyinthebathroom,andtheywereonthebedsidetable,open,withsomespilledontothecarpet.”
Herwholebodystiffens.“What?”
“Yes,andsomepillshadbeensteppedonandweregroundintothecarpet,whichisproblematicforthoseofuswhohavetocleanthesuiteafter.”Iwishshewouldn’tnibblehernailslikeacobofcorn.
“Anythingelse?”Giselleasks.
“Thesafewasopen.”
Gisellenods.“Ofcourse.Normallyhekeptitlocked,nevergavemethecode.Butthatday,hetookwhateveritwashewantedandleftitopenwhenhestormedout.”
Shepicksupherteacupandtakesapolitesip.“Molly,didyoutellthepoliceanythingaboutCharlesandme?About…ourrelationship?”
“No,”Isay.
“Didyou…didyoutellthemanythingaboutme?”
“Ididnothidethetruth,”Isay.“ButIalsodidn’tvolunteerit.”
Gisellestaresatmeforasecond,thenleapsforwardandhugsme,whichcatchesmeoffguard.Icansmellherexpensiveperfume.Isn’titinterestinghowluxuryhasanunmistakablescent,asunmistakableasfearordeath?
“Molly,you’reaveryspecialperson,youknowthat?”
“Yes,Iknow,”Isay.“I’vebeentoldthatbefore.”
“You’reagoodpersonandagoodfriend.Idon’tthinkIcouldeverbeasgoodasyou,solongasIlive.ButIwantyoutoknowsomething:whateverhappens,don’tyouthinkforasecondthatIdon’tappreciateyou.”
Shepullsbackfrommeandspringstoherfeet.Afewminutesago,shewaswillowyandrelaxed;nowshe’sovercharged.
“Whatareyougoingtodo?NowthatMr.Blackisdead?”
“Notmuch,”shesays.“Thepolicewon’tletmegoanywhereuntilthetoxicologyandautopsyreportsarecomplete.Becauseifsomerichguyturnsupdead,thenobviouslyhiswifeoffedhim,right?Couldn’tbethathediedofnaturalcauses,ofthestresshecausedhimselfandeveryoneelsearoundhim.Stressthathiswifewastryingtorelievehimfromsohewouldn’tdropdead.”
“Isthatwhatyouthinkhappened?Hedroppeddead,justlikethat?”
Shesighs.Tearsspringtohereyes.“Therearesomanyreasonsaheartcanstopbeating.”
Ifeelalumpinmythroat.IthinkofGran,ofhergoodheartandhowitcametoastop.
“Willyoucontinuetostayatthehotelwhileyouwaitforthereports?”Iask
“Idon’thavemuchchoice.I’vegotnowhereelsetogo.AndIcanbarelystepoutsideofthehotelwithoutbeingmobbedbyreporters.Idon’townanyproperty.I’vegotnothingthat’smineandonlymine,Molly.Notevenacrappyapartmentlikethis.”Shewinces.“Sorry.See?You’renottheonlyonewhostepsinitfromtimetotime.”
“That’squiteallright.Itakenooffense.”
Shereachesoutandputsahandonmyknee.“Molly,”shesays,“Iwon’tknowwhatCharles’swillsaysforawhile.WhichmeansIwon’tknowwhatbecomesofmeforawhile.Untilthen,I’llstayatthehotel.Atleastthere,thebillisalreadypaid.”
Shepauses,looksatme.“Willyoulookafterme?Atthehotel,Imean.Willyoubemymaid?Sunithaisniceandall,butit’snotthesame.You’relikeasistertome,youknowthat?Asisterwhosometimessayscrazyshitandlikesdustingwaytoomuch,butasisternonetheless.”
I’mflatteredthatGisellethinksofmeinsuchapositivelight,thatsheseespastwhatothersdon’t,thatsheseesmeas…family.
“I’dbehonoredtolookafteryou,”Isay.“IfMr.Snowisfinewithit.”
“Great.I’lltellhimwhenIgoback.”Shestands,walkstothedoor,andgrabsheryellowpurse.Shebringsittothesofaandtakesoutastackofbills—astackthatlooksalltoofamiliar.Sheflicksofftwocrisphundred-dollarbillsandplacesthemonGran’ssilverteatray.
“Foryou,”shesays.“Youearnedit.”
“What?Thisisalotofmoney,Giselle.”
“Inevertippedyouyesterday.Considerthisyourtip.”
“ButIneverfinishedcleaningthesuiteyesterday.”
“That’snotyourfault.Youjustkeepthat.Andlet’spretendthisconversationneverhappened.”
I,forone,willneverbeabletoforgetthisconversation,butIdon’tsaythatoutloud.
Shestandsandturnstothedoor,butthenstopsandfacesme.“Onemorething,Molly.I’vegotafavortoaskofyou.”
Iimmediatelywonderifthiswillinvolveironingorlaundry,soI’msurprisedbywhatcomesnext.
“Doyouthinkyoumightbeabletogetintooursuitestill?It’scordonedoffrightnow.ButIleftsomethinginthere,somethingIdesperatelyneedback.Ituckeditupinthebathroomfan.”
Thatexplainsit,theclunkysoundIheardyesterdaywhenshewasinthebathroom,showering.
“Whatisityouwantmetoretrieve?”
“Mygun,”shesays,hervoiceneutralandcalm.“I’matrisk,Molly.I’mvulnerablenowthatMr.Blackisgone.Everyonewantsapieceofme.Ineedprotection.”
“Isee,”Ireply.Butintruth,thisrequestproducesraginganxiety.Ifeelmythroatclosing.Ifeeltheworldtiltaroundme.IthinkofMr.Snow’sadvice—“Whenaguestasksforsomethingaboveandbeyond,consideritachallenge.Don’tdismissit.Risetomeetit!”
“I’lldomybest,”Isay,butthewordscatch.“Toretrieveyour…item.”Istandinfrontofher,atattention.
“Blessyourheart,MollyMaid,”shesays,throwingherarmsaroundmeagain.“Don’tbelievewhatanyonesays.You’renotafreak.Orarobot.AndI’llneverforgetthisaslongasIlive.You’llsee.Iswear,Iwon’tforget.”
Sherushesovertothefrontdoor,retrievesherglossyhighheelsfromthecloset,andslipsthemon.She’sleftherteacupbehindonthetableratherthancarryingittothekitchenasGranwouldhave.Shehasnot,however,forgottenheryellowpurse,whichsheslingsoverhershoulder.Sheopensmyfrontdoor,blowsmeakiss,andwavesgoodbye.
Athoughtoccurstome.
“Wait,”Isay.She’sdownthehall,nearlyatthestairs.“Giselle,howdidyouknowwheretofindme?Howdidyougetmyhomeaddress?”
Sheturnsaround.“Oh,”shesays.“Someoneatthehotelgaveittome.”
“Who?”Iask.
Shesquints.“Hmm….Can’tquiteremember.Butdon’tworry.Iwon’tbugyouallthetimeoranything.Andthanks,Molly.Forthetea.Forthetalk.Forbeingyou.”
Andwiththatsheflickshersunglassesdown,pullsopenthebrokenfiredoor,andleaves.
Myalarmclockringsthenextmorning.It’sthesoundofaroostercrowing.Evenallthesemonthslater,IhearGran’sfeetpaddingdownthehallway,thegentlerapofherknucklesonmydoor.
Riseandshine,mygirl!It’sanewday.Shuffle,shuffle,shuffleasshebusiesherselfinthekitchenmakingusEnglishBreakfastteaandcrumpetswithmarmalade.
Butno,itisn’treal.It’sonlyamemory.IpushthebuttononmyalarmtostopthecrowingandimmediatelycheckmyphonejustincaseRodneytextedmeovernight.Messages:nil.
Iputmytwofeetflatontheparquetfloor.Nomatter.Iwillgotoworktoday.IwillseeRodneythere.Iwilltakethetemperatureofourrelationship.Iwillmovethingsforward.IwillhelpGisellebecauseshe’safriendwhoneedsme.Iwillknowjustwhattodo.
Istretchandgetoutofbed.Beforedoinganythingelse,Ipulloffallthesheetsandthequilttomakethebedproperly.
Ifyou’regoingtodosomething,doitright.
Verytrue,Gran.Istartwiththetopsheet,snappingitcrisplyandreplacingitonthebed.Tuck,tuck.Hospitalcorners.Next,IsortGran’squilt,smoothingitneatly,pointingthestarnorthasalways.Ifluffupthepillows,placingthemagainsttheheadboardataregimentedforty-five-degreeangle,twoplumphillockswithcrochetfringe.
Igotothekitchenandpreparemyowncrumpetsandtea.InoticethegratingsoundofmyteethagainstthecrusteverytimeItakeabite.WhyisitthatwhenGranwasaliveIneverheardthehorriblesoundsImake?
Oh,Gran.Howshelovedthemornings.Shewouldhumatuneandbustleaboutinthekitchen.We’dsittogetheratourcountry-kitchentablefortwo,andlikeasparrowinthesunshineshewouldchirpandchirpasshepeckedatherbreakfast
Today,IwilltacklethelibraryattheColdwells,Molly.Oh,Molly,Iwishyoucouldseeit.Oneday,I’llhavetoaskMr.ColdwellifIcanbringyouforavisit.It’sasumptuousroom,fullofdarkleatherandpolishedwalnut.Andsomanybooks.Andyouwouldn’tbelieveit,buttheybarelygointhere.Ilovethosebookslikemyown.Andtoday,it’sdusting.It’stricky,letmetellyou,dustingbooks.Youcan’tjustblowthedustoffthemlikeI’veseensomemaidsdo.That’snotcleaning,Molly.That’smerelydirtdisplacement….
Onandonshe’dchatter,preparingusbothfortheday.
Ihearmyselfslurpmytea.Disgusting.ItakeanotherbiteofcrumpetandfindIcan’teatanymore.Ithrowouttherest,eventhoughit’sahorridwaste.Icleanmydishesandheadtothebathroomforashower.SinceGrandied,IdoeverythingabitquickerinthemorningbecauseIwanttoleavetheapartmentassoonaspossible.Morningsaretoohardwithouther.
I’mready.OffIgo,outthefrontdooranddownthehalltoMr.Rosso’sapartment.Iknockfirmly.Ihearhimontheothersideofthedoor.Click.Itopens.
Hestandswithhisarmscrossed.“Molly,”hesays.“It’sseven-thirtyA.M.Thisbetterbegood.”
I’mholdingthemoneyinmyhand.“Mr.Rosso,here’stwohundreddollarstowardtherent.”
Hesighsandshakeshishead.“Therentiseighteenhundred,andyouknowit.”
“Yes,youarecorrect,bothabouttheamountthatIoweandthefactthatIknowit.AndI’llproducetherestoftherentbytheendoftoday.Youhavemyword.”
Moreheadshakingandbluster.“Molly,ifitweren’tforhowmuchIrespectedyourgrandmother…”
“Endofday.You’llsee,”Isay.
“Endofday,orItakethenextstep,Molly.Ievictyou.”
“Thatwon’tbenecessary.MayIhaveareceiptregisteringproofofpaymentfortwohundreddollars?”
“Now?Youhavethenervetoaskforthatrightnow?How’boutIgetittoyoutomorrow,onceyou’reallpaidup.”
“That’sareasonablecompromise.Thankyou.Haveagoodday,Mr.Rosso.”
WiththatIturnandwalkaway.
Iarriveatworkwellbeforenine.Asusual,Iwalkthewholewaytoavoidunnecessaryspendingontransit.Mr.Prestonisstandingonthetopstepofthehotelentrancebehindhispodium.He’sonthephone.Hesetsthereceiverdownandsmileswhenheseesme.
It’sabusymorningattheentrance,busierthanusual.Thereareseveralsuitcasesoutsidetherevolvingdoor,waitingtobecarriedtothestorageroom.Guestshurryinandout,manyofthemtakingphotosandchatteringaboutMr.BlackthisandMr.Blackthat.Iheartheword“murder”morethanonce,saidinawaythatmakesitsoundlikeadayatthefairoranexcitingnewflavoroficecream.
“Goodmorning,MissMolly,”Mr.Prestonsays.“Areyouallright?”
“I’mquitefine,”Isay.
“Yougothomesafelylastnight,Ihope?”
“Idid.Thankyou.”
Mr.Prestonclearshisthroat.“Youknow,Molly.Ifyoueverhaveanyproblems,anyproblemsatall,rememberthatyoucancountongoodol’Mr.Prestonforhelp.”Hisforeheadfurrowsinacuriousway.
“Mr.Preston,areyouworried?”
“Iwouldn’tgothatfar.ButIjustwantyouto…keepgoodcompany.Andtoknowthatifeveryouneed,I’dbethereforyou.YoujustgiveMr.PrestonaweenodandI’llknow.Yourgranwasagoodwoman.IwasfondofherandshewassogoodtomydearMary.I’msurethingsaren’teasywithoutyourgran.”
Heshiftshisweightfromfoottofoot.Foramoment,hedoesn’tlooklikeMr.Preston,theimposingdoorman,butlikeanovergrownchild.
“Iappreciateyouroffer,Mr.Preston.ButI’mquiteallright.”
“Verywell,”hesayswithatipofhishat.Justthen,afamilywiththreechildrenintowandsixsuitcasesdemandshisattention.HeturnstothembeforeIcansayapropergoodbye.
Iweavemywaythroughthethrongofguests,pushpasttherevolvingdoorandintothelobby.Iheadstraightdownstairstothehousekeepingquarters.Myuniformhangsfrommylockerdoor,cleanandshroudedinprotectivefilm.Idialthecodetomylockandmylockerspringsopen.OntheuppershelfisGiselle’stimer,allthatsandfromanexotic,farawayplace,allthatgoldenbrassshininghopeinthedark.Isenseapresencebesideme.IturntofindCherylpeekingaroundmylockerdoor,herfacesevereanddownturned—inotherwordshernormalexpression.
Itrycheeryoptimism.“Goodmorning.Idohopeyou’refeelingbettertodayandthatyouwereabletobenefitfromadayofrespiteyesterday,”Isay.
Shesighs.“Idoubtyoureallyunderstand,Molly,whatit’sliketohaveaconditionlikemine.Ihavebowelissues.Andstressaggravatesthings.Stress,suchasadeadmandiscoveredinmyworkplace.Stressthatcausesgastrointestinaldysfunction.”
“I’msorryyouwereunwell,”Isay.
Iexpecthertogoawaythen,butshedoesn’t.Shejuststandsinmyway.Theplasticwrapofmyuniformrattlesominouslyasshebrushesagainstit.
“ToobadabouttheBlacks,”shesays.
“YoumeanaboutMr.Black,”Isay.“Yes,it’smostdreadful.”
“No.Imeantoobadyouwon’tgettheirtipsanymore,nowthatBlack’sdead.”Herfaceremindsmeofanegg—featurelessandbland.
“Actually,”Isay,“IbelieveMrs.Blackisstillaguestinthehotel.”
Shesniffs.“Sunitha’slookingafterGiselleinhernewroom.I’lloverseeherwork,ofcourse.”
“Ofcourse,”Isay.It’syetanotherploytostealtips,butitwon’tlastforlong.GisellewilltalktoMr.Snow.ShewillrequestthatIlookafterheragain.Sofornow,I’llholdmytongue.
“ThepolicearefinishedintheformerBlacksuite,”Cherylsays.“They’veturneditupsidedown.Quiteamess.You’llhavetoworkhardtosetitright.Notbigtipperseither,cops.I’lllookaftertheChensfromnowon.Wouldn’twantyouoverworked.”
“Howconsiderate,”Isay.“Thankyou,Cheryl.”
Shestandsthereforamomentlonger,lookingintomylocker.IseehereyeingGiselle’stimer.Iwanttogougeouthereyesbecauseshe’staintingit,justbylookingatitwithsuchenvy.Itismine.It’smygift.Frommyfriend.Mine.
“Excuseme,”Isay,andslamthelockerdoorshut.
Cherylflinches.
“Ibestbeoff.Imustgettowork.”
ShemutterssomethingunintelligibleasIgrabmyuniformandheadforthechangeroom.
OnceI’muniformedandI’vereplenishedmytrolley,Imakemywaytothemainlobby.IseeMr.SnowatReception.Helooksfrostedover,likeasugar-glazeddoughnutmeltingonahotday.Hebeckonsmetohim.
I’mcarefultoallowthehordesofgueststopassbeforemeandmytrolley,bowingmyheadtoeachastheypaymenomind.“Afteryou,ma’am/sir,”overandoveragain.Ittakesmeanextraordinarilylongtimetonavigatetheshortdistancefromtheelevatortothereceptiondesk.
“Mr.Snow,myapologies.It’sverybusytoday,”IsaywhenIarriveatthedesk.
“Molly,it’sgoodtoseeyou.Thankyouagainforcomingtoworkyesterday.Andtoday.Manyemployeeswouldsimplyuserecenteventsasanexcusetofeignillness.Toshirktheirduties.”
“Iwouldneverdothat,Mr.Snow.‘Everyworkerbeehasherplaceinthehive.’Youtaughtmethat.”
“DidI?”
“Youdid.Itwaspartofyourspeechduringlastyear’sprofessional-developmentday.Thehotelisahive,andeveryworkerinitisabee.Withouteachandeveryoneofus,therewouldbenohoney.”
Mr.Snowislookingpastmeintothebusylobby.Itcouldusesomeattention.Achildhasleftasweaterononeofthehigh-backchairs.Adiscardedplasticbaggustsupandthenbacktothemarblefloorasabusyportersweepspast,wheelingasqueakysuitcaseinhiswake.
“It’sastrangeworld,Molly.Yesterday,Iwasworriedthatafterrecentunfortunateevents,guestswouldcanceltheirreservationsandourhotelwouldbeempty.Buttoday,theoppositehastranspired.Moreguestsarebooking.Ladiesgroupsarecomingindrovesforhighteajusttosnooparound.Ourconferenceroomsarenowbookedfullyforthenextmonth.Itseemseveryone’sanamateursleuth.TheyallbelievetheycanwaltzrightintothehotelandsolvethemysteryofMr.Black’suntimelydemise.LookatReception.Theycanbarelykeepup.”
Heisright.Thepenguinsbehindthecounterpunchfuriouslyattheirscreens,calloutordersforvaletsandportersandthedoorman.
“TheRegencyGrandhasbecomeabitofahotspot,”Mr.Snowsays.“ThankstoMr.Black.”
“Howinteresting,”Iremark.“Iwasjustthinkingabouthowonedaycanbesoutterlygrimandthenextsuchablessing.Inthislife,youjustneverknowwhat’saroundthebend,beitadeadmanoryournextdate.”
Mr.Snowcoughsintohishand.Ihopehe’snotgettingacold.Hecomescloserandspeaksinawhisper.“Listen,Molly.I’llhaveyouknowthepolicearenowfinishedwiththeirinvestigationintheBlacksuite.Ihopetheyhaven’tuncoveredanythingunsavory.”
“Iftheyhave,I’lljustcleanitup.CheryltoldmeI’mtostarttheretoday.I’llgetrighttoit,sir.”
“What?IexpresslytoldCheryltohandleitherself.Weareinnorushtorentoutthatsuiteagain.Weneedtoleteverythingdiedownabit.Sotospeak.Idon’twanttocauseyouanymorestressthanyou’vealreadyendured.”
“That’squiteallright,Mr.Snow,”Isay.“Ifinditmorestressfulknowingthesuiteisindisarray.I’llfeelmuchbetterwhenit’sbackinorder,allcleanedupasifnobodyeverdiedinthatbed.”
“Hush,”Mr.Snowsays.“Let’snotfrightentheguests.”It’sonlythenthatIrealizeI’veabandonedmyinsidevoice.
“Myapologies,Mr.Snow,”Iwhisper.Andthenloudly,forthebenefitofanyonewhomayhavebeenlistening,“I’mgoingtobegincleaningnow,asuite,notanysuiteinparticular,justwhicheverisonmyroster.”
“Yes,yes,”saysMr.Snow.“Bestbeoffthen,Molly.”
AndsoIdepart,circumventingthemanyguestsandheadingfortheSocialtopickupthemorningpapersand,hopefully,toseeRodney.
He’sbehindthebarwhenIgetthere,polishingthebrasstaps.IfeelawarmglowtheinstantIseteyesuponhim.
Heturns.“Oh,hey,”hesays,smilingasmilethatIknowisjustforme,mineandonlymine.Heholdsateatowelinhishands—purewhite,notaspotonit.
“Ididn’tcallyou,”Isay.“Ortextyou.Ifiguredwecouldwaittospeakinpersonlikewearenow.ButIwantyoutoknowthatifIdidn’tfollowtheprotocolyouexpected,I’dbehappytosimplytextyouorcallyouatanytime,dayornight.Justletmeknowyourexpectations,andI’lladjust.Itwon’tbeaproblem.”
“Whoa,”hesays.“Alrightythen.”Hetakesthecrisp,whitetowelandtossesitoverhisshoulder.“So,”hesays,“didyougetuptoanythinginterestinglastnight?”
Icomeinclosetothebar.Thistime,I’llbesuretousemywhispervoice.“Youarenotgoingtobelievethis,”Isay.
“Tryme,”hereplies.
“Gisellecametoseeme!Tomyhouse!ShewaswaitingoutsidemybuildingwhenIgothome.Canyoubelieveit?”
“Huh.Whatasurprise,”hesays,buthistoneisodd,asifheisn’tverysurprisedatall.Hepicksupabarglassandbeginstopolishit.Thoughalltheglasswarehasbeenproperlysterilizedinthekitchendownstairs,he’swipingouteveryerrantspot.Iappreciatehiscommitmenttoperfection.Heisawonder.
“SowhatdidGisellewant?”heasks.
“Well,”Isay,“thatisasecretbetweenfriends.”Ipause,lookaroundthebusyrestauranttomakesurethatnooneispayingattention.Nobodysomuchasglancesmyway.
“Feelinggun-shy?”hesays.There’saplayfulsmileonhisface,andIdobelievehemaybeflirtingwithme.Theverythoughtcatapultsmyheartintodoublesyncopation.
“Funnythatyousaythat,”Ireply.BeforeIcanthinkofwhatelsetotellhim,Rodneysays,“WeneedtotalkaboutJuanManuel.”
Guiltsuddenlyovercomesme.“Oh,ofcourse.”I’vebeenconcentratingsomuchonRodneyandtheexcitementofourburgeoningrelationshipthatI’veallbutforgottenaboutJuanManuel.It’sclearthatRodneyisabetterpersonthanIam,alwaysthinkingofothersandputtinghimselflastinsteadoffirst.It’sareminderofhowmuchhehastoteachme,ofhowmuchIstillhavetolearn.
“HowcanIhelp?”Iask.
“IhearthepolicearegoneandthattheBlacksuiteisempty.Isthatright?”
“Icanconfirmthat,”Isay.“Infact,itwon’tberentedoutforawhile.I’llbecleaningitfirstthingtoday.”
“That’sperfect,”Rodneysays.Heputsdownapolishedglassandpicksupanother.“IfigurethesafestplaceforJuanManuelnowistheBlacksuite,”hesays.“Thecopsaregone;theroomwon’tberentedoutagainanytimesoon,notforlackofguestinterest,though.Haveyouseenthisplacetoday?Everymiddle-aged,mystery-watchingcatladyintownisroamingthelobbyhopingtocatchaglimpseofGiselle,orwhatever.Honestly,it’spathetic.”
“Ipromiseyouthis:nocuriousbusybodyisgettingintothatsuite,”Isay.“I’vegotajobtodo,andIintendtodoit.Oncethesuiteisclean,I’llletyouknowandJuanManuelcancomein.”
“Great,”Rodneysays.“CanIaskyouforonemorething?JuanManuelgavemehisovernightbag.Wouldyoumindputtingitinthesuite?Underthebedorsomething?I’lllethimknowit’sthere.”
“Ofcourse,”Isay.“Anythingforyou.AndJuanManuel.”
Rodneyretrievesthefamiliarnavy-blueduffelbagfrombesideabeerkegandpassesittome.
“Thanks,Molly,”hesays.“Man,Iwishallwomenwereawesomelikeyou.Mostaremuchmorecomplicated.”
Myheart,beatingatdoublespeedalready,alightsandsoarsintotheair.“Rodney,”Iask,“Iwaswondering.Perhapsonedaywecangoforicecreamtogether?Unlessyoulikejigsaws.Doyoulikejigsaws?”
“Jigsaws?”
“Yes,jigsawpuzzles.”
“Uh…ifthosearethechoices,I’mmoreofanicecreamkindofguy.I’mabitbusythesedays,butyeah,we’llgooutsometime.Sure.”
IpickupJuanManuel’sbag,slingitovermyshoulder,andstarttowalkaway.
“Molly,”Ihear.Iturnaround.“Youforgotyournewspapers.”
Heplopsalargestackonthebar,andIheavethemintomyarms.
“Thankyou,Rodney.You’retookind.”
“Oh,Iknow,”hesays,winking.Thenheturnshisbackonmetodealwithawaitressandherorder.
Afterthatdeliriouslydeliciousencounter,Iheadupstairs.I’mpracticallyfloatingonair,butassoonasI’moutsidethedooroftheformerBlacksuite,thegravityofmemorypinsmetotheground.It’sbeentwodayssinceI’vebeeninthissuite.Thedoorseemsbiggerthanitusedtobe,moreimposing.Ibreatheinandout,gatheringthestrengthtoenter.ThenIusemykeycardtobuzzthrough,pullingmytrolleyinbehindme.Thedoorclicksshut.
ThefirstthingInoticeisthesmell,orthelackofsmell—nocominglingofGiselle’sperfumewithMr.Black’sshavinglotion.AsIsurveythescenebeforeme,Iseethatallofthedrawersineverypieceoffurnitureareopen.Thepillowsfromthecouchareonthefloor,zipperssplayed.Theliving-roomtablehasbeendustedforfingerprintsandleftlikethat,printsinflagrante.ThesurfacelooksalotlikethefingerpaintingsIwasforcedtodoinkindergarten,eventhoughIhatedgettingmyfingerssoiledwithpaint.Acoilofcausticyellowcautiontapeliesabandonedontheflooroutsidethebedroomdoor.
Idrawanotherdeepbreathandwalkfartherintothesuite.Istandatthethresholdtothebedroom.Thebedhasbeenstrippedbare,nosheets,nomattresscover.Iwonderifthepolicetookthesheetsawaywiththem.ThismeansIwillbelowonmybeddingcountandwillhavetojustifythelosstoCheryl.Thepillowshavebeenflungakimbo,strippedoftheircases,stainsglaringlikegrotesquebull’s-eyes.Therearethreepillowsonly,notfour.
Isuddenlyfeelabitdizzy.Iholdontothedoorframetosteadymyself.Thesafeisopen,butthere’snothinginitnow.AllofGiselle’sandMr.Black’sclotheshavebeenemptiedfromthearmoires.AndMr.Black’sshoesthatwereonhissideofthebedaregone.Thebedsidetableshavebeendusted,too,unsightlyprintsthumbingupthroughthepowderleftbehind.Perhapssomeofthemaremine.
Thepillsaregone,eventhecrushedonesonthefloorhavevaporized.Infact,thecarpetsandfloorsseemtobetheonethinginthesuitethathavebeenproperlycleaned.Perhapsthepolicevacuumed,suckedupthetraces—themicrofibersandparticlesoftheBlacks’privatelives,allcaughtintheconfinesofasinglefilter.
Ifeelacoldshiverrunthroughme,asthoughMr.Blackhimself,inaghostlyvapor,werepushingmeaside.Getoutofmyway.IrememberthebruisesonGiselle’sarms,Oh,it’snothingIcan’thandle.Idolovehim,youknow.ThatghastlymanbowledmeovereverytimeIcrossedhiminthesuiteorinthehallways,asthoughIwereaninsectorapestthatdeservedtobequashed.Iseehiminmymind’seye,avile,beady-eyedcreature,smokingavile,malodorouscigar.
Ifeelapulseofangerbeatatmytemples.WhereisGisellesupposedtogonow?Whatisshesupposedtodo?IwonderasmuchaboutGiselleasaboutmyself.Mr.Rossoissuedmorethreatsthismorning.Paytherent,orgetevicted.Myhome,thisjob.TheyareallIhaveleft.IfeeltheprickoftearsthatIdonotneedrightnow.
Goodthingscometothosewhoworkhard.Cleanconscience,cleanlife
Granalwayscomestomyrescue.
Itakeheradvice.Ihustlebacktomytrolleyandputonmyrubbergloves.Ispritzdisinfectantontheglasstabletops,thewindows,thefurniture.Iwipeoffalltheprints,alltheremainsoftheinterloperswhohavebeeninthisroom.Iscourthewallsnext,addressingthescuffsanddingsthatI’mcertainweren’therebeforetheungainlydetectivesarrived.Icoverthemattressinimmaculatewhite.Imakethebed,lettingthecrispsheetsbillowdown.Polisheddoorknobs,coffeeservicereplenished,cleandrinkingglasseswithpaperlidstovouchfortheircleanliness.Iworkbyrote,mybodymovingofitsownaccord,somanytimeshaveIdonethis,somanydays,rooms,guestsblendingtogetherinahaze.MyhandstrembleasIpolishthegiltmirrorthatfacesthebed.Imustfocusonthepresent,notonthepast.Iwipeandwipeuntilaperfectimageofmyselfshinesbackatme.
ThereisonlyonecorneroftheBlacks’bedroomlefttoclean,thedarkcornerbesideGiselle’sarmoire.Itakemyvacuumandrunoverandoverthecarpetthere.Iinspectthewallsclosely,givebothwallsathoroughwipedownwithdisinfectant.There.Erased.
Isurveymyhandiwork,andIseethesuiterestored.There’sapleasingcitrustangintheair.
It’stime.
Ihaveavoidedthebathroom,butIcannolonger.It,too,hasbeenleftinastateofdisarray.Thetowelsaremissing,thetissues,eventhetoilet-paperrolls—allgone.There’sfingerprintdustonthemirrorandaroundthebathroomsink.Ispritzandspray,Ipolishandreplenish.Inthissmallerroom,whichduetoitsfunctionmustbedisinfectedmoreaggressively,theacridscentofbleachissostrongthatmynasalpassagessting.Ifliptheswitchforthefanandhearthatfamiliarclunkingsound.Iquicklyturnitoff.
It’stime.
Iremovemyrubberglovesandthrowthemintomyrubbishbin.Igrabthesmallstepstoolfrommytrolleyandsetitupunderthefan.Iclimbontoit.Thefancoverpullsdowneasily.Ipushintwoclipstoreleaseitcompletely.Igingerlyplacethecoverbesidethesink.Igetbackonthestepstoolandreachonearmupintothedarkrecessofthefan,fartherintotheunknown,untilmyfingertipsconnectwithcoldmetal.Ipulltheobjectdownandholditinbothhands.ItissmallerthanIthoughtitwouldbe,sleekandblackbutsurprisinglyheavy.Substantial.Thegripisgritty,likesandpaperoracat’stongue.Thebarrelissmooth,withasatisfyingshine.Pristine.Polished.Clean.
Giselle’sgun.
NeverinmylifehaveIheldanythinglikethis.Itfeelsalive,thoughIknowit’snot.
Whocouldblameherforhavingit?IfIwereher,hadbeentreatedthewayshehasbyMr.Blackandothers,well…it’snowonder.Icanfeelit,thepowerinmyhandsthatmakesmeimmediatelyfeelsafer,invincible.Andyetshedidn’tuseit,thisweapon.Shedidn’tuseitonherhusband.
Wherewillshegonow?Whatwillshedo?AndwhatwillI?Ifeelthegravityintheroomchange,theweightofeverythingpushesdownonmyshoulders.Iplacethegunonthesink,climbbackupthestool,andreplacethefan’scover.BackdownthestepsIgo,thenItakethegunagainandcarryitintothelivingroom.Itrestssonicelyinthebowlofmyhands.WhatwillIdowithit?HowwillIgetittoGiselle?
Thenitcomestome.Theysaytelevisionisanidlepursuit,butImaintainthatI’velearnedmanyalessonfromColumbo
Hiddeninplainsight.
Icarefullyputthegundownontheglasstable,thengobacktomytrolley.IremoveJuanManuel’sduffelbag.Iheadbacktothebedroom,whereIslidehisbagunderthebed.ThenIreturntothesittingroom.
Iturnmyattentiontomyvacuumcleaner,standingsteadfastandatthereadyrightbesideme.Iunzipthevacuumbagandtakeoutthedirtyfilter.Igrababrand-newfilterfrommytrolleyandsliptheguninsideit.Ipushthefreshfilterintothegutsofmyvacuum.Izipitup.Outofsight,outofmind.Igivethevacuumashoveforwardandback.Notasounddoesitmake,mysecret,silentfriend.
Ipickupthedirtyfilterandamabouttotossitintomyrubbishbinwhenadustyclumpfallsoutandlandswithadullthudonthecarpet.Ilookdownatmyfeetwherethecarpetisnowsulliedwithdustandgrime.Inthemiddleofthenestofdirt,somethinggleams.Icrouchandtaketheobjectintomyhand.Iwipeawaythegrime.Gold,thick,encrustedindiamondsandotherjewels.Aring.Aman’sring.Mr.Black’sweddingring.Rightthereinthepalmofmyhand.
Thegoodlordgivesandthegoodlordtakesaway.
Icurlmyfingersaroundit.It’sasthoughmyprayershavebeenanswered.“Thankyou,Gran,”Isaytomyself.
Becauseit’sonlythenthatIknowjustwhattodo.
Thegunisstowedinmyvacuumcleaner.Theringiscarefullywrappedinatissueandtuckedintheleftcupofmybrassiere,rightbymyheart.
IcleanasmanyotherroomsasIcan,asfastasIcan,usingmymanualsweeperratherthanmypowervacuum.Atonepoint,ImeetSunithainthehallway.Shestartleswhensheseesme,whichisoutoftheordinary.“Oh,sosorry,”shesays.
“Sunitha,issomethingwrong?”Iask.“Areyoushortoncleaningsupplies?”
Shegrabsmyarm.“Youfoundhim.Dead.Youareaverynicegirl.Becareful.Sometimesaplaceseemsascleanasfreshsnow,butit’snot.It’sjustatrick.Youunderstand?”
IimmediatelythinkofCherylcleaningsinkswithhertoiletrags.
“Iunderstandcompletely,Sunitha.Wemustalwayskeepclean.”
“No,”shehisses.“Youmustbemorecareful.Thegrassisgreen,buttherearesnakesinit.”
Andwiththat,sheslithersawhitetowelintheair,andthendropsitintoherdirtylaundrypile.ShelooksatmewithanexpressionthatdoesnotfittherepertoryofanyIunderstand.Whathasgottenintoher?BeforeIcanask,shepusheshertrolleyawayandintothenextroom.
Itrytoputtheoddencounterbehindme.IconcentrateonfinishingassoonasIcansothatIcanskipouttolunchafewminutesearly.I’llneedeveryminute.
It’stime.
Ipushmytrolleytotheelevatorandwaitforittoarrive.Threetimesthedoorsopenandguestsstareoutatme,notmakingtheslightestmovetoallowmetoentereventhoughthere’splentyofroom.Themaidgoeslast.
Finally,thedoorsopenandtheelevatorisempty.Ihaveittomyselfallthewaydowntothebasement.IhurryoutwithmytrolleyandalmostcollidewithCherylasIturnthecornertowardmylocker.
“Whereareyouofftoinsucharush?Andhowcanyoubefinishedwithallthoseroomssofast?”sheasks.
“I’mefficient,”Ireply.“SorryIcan’tdally.Ihaveanerrandtorunoverthelunchhour.”
“Anerrand?Butyouusuallyworkstraightthroughyourlunchhour,”Cherylsays.“HowwillyoumaintainyourA+ExceptionalProductivityScoreifyou’rerunningallovertheplaceatlunchtime?”
I’mveryproudofmyA+ExceptionalProductivityScore.Everyyear,itearnsmeaCertificateofExcellencefromMr.Snowhimself.Cherylnevercompletesherdailyroom-cleaningquota,andmyexcellencebridgesthegap.
ButasIlookatCheryl,Icatchsomethinginherexpressionthat’salwaysbeenthere,buttodayIcanreaditplainly—thecurveofherupperlip,thedisdainand…somethingelse.IhearGran’svoiceinmyheadgivingmeadviceaboutschoolbullies.
Don’tletthempushyourbuttons.
Atthetime,Ididn’tunderstandthatthebuttonsweren’tliteral.Iunderstanditnow.Thepiecesslidetogetherinmyhead.
“Cheryl,”Isay,“Iamawareofmylegalrighttotakeabreakandwilldosotoday.AndanyotherdaythatIchoose.Isthatacceptable,orshouldIrunitbyMr.Snow?”
“No,no,”shereplies.“It’sfine.I’dneversuggestanything…illegal.JustbebackbyoneP.M.”
“Iwill,”Isay.
Withthat,I’moff,zoomingbyher.Iparkmytrolleyoutsidemylocker,grabmywallet,thenracebackuptotheelevatorandoutthebustlingfrontdoorsofthehotel.
“Molly?”Mr.Prestoncallsafterme.“Whereareyougoing?”
“I’llbebackinanhour!”
Icrosstheroadandwalkpastthecoffeeshopdirectlyinfrontofthehotel.ThenIturnontoasidestreet.Thetrafficisslowerhere,withfewerpeopleonthesidewalks.Mydestinationisaboutseventeenminutesaway.Icanfeeltheheatrisingintomychest,mylegsburningasIforcethemonward.Butnomatter.Wherethere’sawill,there’saway,asGranlikedtosay.
Ipassafirst-floorofficewhereworkershaveassembledandareseatedinrows,listeningtoamaninasuitwhoisgesticulatingwildlyinfrontofapodium.Chartsandgraphsappearonascreenbehindhim.Ismiletomyself.Iknowjustwhatit’sliketobeaproudemployeefortunateenoughtobereceivingprofessionaldevelopment.IlookforwardtoMr.Snow’snextprofessional-developmentdayaboutamonthfromnow.
Ihaveneverunderstoodwhysomestaffmemberscomplainabouttheseevents,asifthey’resomekindofimposition,asifself-improvementandthechancetoreceiveafreeeducationonguestservicesandhotelhygieneisn’tabonusofemploymentattheRegencyGrand.Irelishsuchopportunities,especiallygiventhatIwasunabletopursuemydreamofapost-secondaryeducationinhotelmanagementandhospitality.Thisisabadthought,anunwelcomethought.IseeWilbur’sfaceflashinmymindandIhaveasuddendesiretopunchit.Butyoucan’tpunchathought.Orifyoucan,itdoeslittletochangereality.
MystomachrumblesasIwalk.Ihavenolunch,didn’tpackoneinthemorningasIhavesolittleinthecupboardsandcouldbarelyeatbreakfastanyway.Ihadhopedtofindsomeperfectlyuntouchedcrackersandperhapsasmallpotofunopenedjamleftonabreakfasttrayoutsideoneoftherooms,maybeevenapieceoffruitthatIcouldwashanddiscreetlytuckaway.Butalas,today’sguestshaveleftmeverylittle.Intotal,mytipsare$20.45,whichiscertainlysomething,butnotenoughtoplacateanangrylandlordorfillafridgewithanythingbutafewscantbasics.Nevermind.
Thehoneycomesfromthehive.Thebeestendtothehoney.
It’sMr.Snow’svoiceinmyheadthistime.Onthelastprofessional-developmentday,hecoveredamostimportanttopic:HowtheHiveMentalityCreatesGreaterProductivity.Itooknotesinafresh,newjournal,andIhavestudiedthedetailsatlength.Inhishour-longlecture,Mr.Snowtalkedaboutteamwork,usingamostcompellinganalogytodoso.
“Thinkofthishotelasahive,”hesaidashelookedoutathisstaffoverhisowlglasses.Iwaslisteningintentlytohiswords.“Andthinkofyourselvesasbees.”
Iwroteinmynotebook:Thinkofyourselfasabee.
Mr.Snowcontinued.“Weareateam,aunit,afamily,acolony.Whenweadoptahivementality,itmeansweareallworkingtowardthegreatergood,thegreatergoodofthehotel.Likebees,werecognizetheimportanceofthehotel,ourhive.Wemustcultivateit,cleanit,careforit,becauseweknowthatwithoutit,therewillbenohoney.Inmynotebook:hotel=hive;hive=honey
Atthispoint,Mr.Snow’slecturetookamostsurprisingturn.“Now,”hesaid,grippingbothhandsonthepodiuminfrontofhim,“Letusconsiderthehierarchyofroleswithinthehiveandtheimportanceofallbees,regardlessofrank,workingtothebestoftheirbee-bilities.Therearesupervisorybees(here,hestraightenedhistie)andthereareworkerbees.Therearebeesthatserveothersdirectlyandtherearebeesthatserveindirectly.Butnobeeismoreimportantthananyotherbee,doyouunderstand?”
Mr.Snow’shandsballedintofiststohighlighttheimportanceofthislastpoint.Iwasscribblingfuriously,recordingeverywordasbestIcould,whensuddenlyMr.Snowpointedatmeinthecrowd.
“Take,forinstance,theexampleofamaid.Shecouldbeanymaid,anywhere.Withinourhotel,sheisourperfectworkerbee.Shetoilsandtravailstoreadyeachhoneycombforthearrivalofhoney.Thisisaphysicallydemandingjob.It’sexhaustingandmind-numbinglyrepetitive,andyet,shetakesprideinherwork;shedoesitwelleachandeveryday.Herworkislargelyinvisible.Butdoesthismakeherlesserthanthedronesorthequeen?Doesthismakeherlesssignificanttothehive?No!Thetruthisthatwithouttheworkerbee,wehavenohive.Wecannotfunctionwithouther!”
Mr.Snowpoundedthepodiumtounderlinehispoint.Ilookedaroundandsawmanyeyesuponme.SunshineandSunitha,whowereintherowinfrontofme,hadturnedandweresmilingandwavingatme.Cheryl,whowasafewseatsaway,wasleaningback,hereyesslits,herarmscrossed.RodneyandsomeofthewaitressesfromtheSocialwerebehindme,andasIturnedtolookovermyshoulder,theywhisperedtooneanother,laughingatsomejokeI’dmissed.
Allaround,employeesIknew(butmostofwhomhadneverspokentome)werelookingmyway.
Mr.Snowcontinued.“Wehavemuchtoimproveuponinthisorganization.AndI’mincreasinglybecomingawarethatourhivedoesnotalwaysoperateasacohesiveunit.Wecreatehoneyforourgueststoenjoy,butsometimes,thesweetnessisskimmedoffthetopandisn’tsharedequitably.Someofourhiveisusednefariously,forpersonalgainratherthanforthecommongood….”
Atthis,IstoppedtakingnotesbecauseCherylbegandrycoughinginaverydistractingmanner.IturnedaroundoncemoreandsawRodneysinkingintohischair.
Mr.Snowcarriedon.“I’mheretoremindyouthatyou’reallbetterthanthat,thatwecanstriveforsomethingmoretogether.Thatourhivecanbethegreatest,fittest,cleanest,mostluxurioushiveofanybeesanywhere.Butitwilltakecohesionandcooperation.Itwilltakeacommitmenttothehivementality.I’maskingyoutohelpthecolony,forthecolony.Iwantyoutothinkaboutpristineprofessionalism.Polishedpoise.Iwantyoutocleanthisplaceup!”
Atthispoint,Iboundedoutofmychairandontomyfeet.IhadfullyexpectedthattheentirestaffwouldrecognizeMr.Snow’sgloriousconclusionandwouldspontaneouslyburstintoapplause.ButIwastheonlyoneonmyfeet.Iwasstandingaloneinaroomthatwaspin-dropsilent.Ifeltmyselfturntostone.IknewIshouldprobablysit,butIcouldn’t.Iwasfrozen.Stuck.
Istayedthatwayforaverylongtime.Mr.Snowremainedatthepodiumforaminuteortwo.Thenhestraightenedhisglasses,grabbedhisspeech,andmarchedbacktohisoffice.Oncehewasgone,mycoworkersshiftedintheirseatsandstartedtalkingamongthemselves.Icouldhearthewhispersallaroundme.DidtheyactuallythinkIcouldn’t?
MollytheMutant.
RoombatheRobot.
TheFormalityFreak.
Eventually,thereception-deskpenguinsandporters,thewaitressesandvaletsgotupintheirlittlecliquesandbegantodriftaway.IremainedwhereIwasuntilIwasthelastbeeintheroom.
“Molly?”Iheardbehindme.Ifeltafamiliarhandonmyarm.“Molly,areyouquiteallright?”
IturnedandsawMr.Prestonstandinginfrontofme.Isearchedhisfaceforclues.Washefriendorfoe?Sometimesthishappens.I’llfreezeforamomentbecauseeverythingI’veeverlearnedisgone.Erased.
“Itwasn’taboutyou,”hesaid.
“I’msorry?”Ireplied.
“WhatMr.Snowwassayingabouthowthishotelmightnotbesosqueakyclean,howsomeemployeesskimoffthetop.Thatwasn’taboutyou,Molly.Therearethingshappeninginthishotel,thingsevenIdon’tfullyunderstand.Butyoudon’thavetoworryaboutthat.Everyoneknowsyoudoyourbesteveryday.”
“Buttheydon’trespectme.Idon’tthinkmycoworkerslikemeatall.”
Hewasholdinghiscapinhishand.Hesighedandlookeddownatit.“Irespectyou.AndIlikeyouverymuch.”
Ashelookedatme,thewarmthinhiseyesradiatedout.Somehow,thatlookunlockedme.Mylegsbecamemobileagain.
“Thankyou,Mr.Preston,”Isaid.“IthinkIshouldgetbacktoit.Thehiveneverrestsandallthat.”
Ibrokeawayfromhimandwentstraightbacktowork.
Thatwasmonthsago.Now,I’mstandingoutsideastorefrontafewblocksawayfromthehotel.Mylegsarestuckagain,justliketheywerethatday.
Ialreadywentinthestore.Ishowedthemanbehindthecounterthegoods;heofferedmeaprice.Iaccepted.Inplaceofwhatwastherebefore,inthecupofmybrassiere,restingagainstmyheart,thereisnowathickwadofbillswrappedinatissue.
Icheckthetimeonmyphone.Thiswholetransaction,includingthewalkhere,hastakenmetwenty-fiveminutes,whichisfiveminuteslessthanmyoriginalestimation,whichmeansI’llarrivebackatworkapproximatelyfiveminutesbeforeone,when,asCherylsokindlyremindedme,thesecondhalfofmyshiftbegins.
Mystomachtwists,likethedragonthatresidestherejustflippeditstailandsentacidsloshingeverywhere.MaybeIshouldn’thavedonethis;maybeitwaswrong.
Icatchmyreflectionintheglass.IrememberMr.Black’ssallow,downturnedface,thedarkbruisesheinflicted,thepainhehascaused.
Themonsterinmybellycurlsintoatightballandliesdown.
What’sdoneisdone.
Alightnessdescends.Ifillmyselfwithbreath.Imarvelatmyreflectionintheglass—amaid,inacrisp,whitedressshirtwithastarchedcollar.Iadjustmyposture.IstandtallinawaythatwouldmakeGranproud.
Beyondmyreflectionarethegoodsonofferintheshopwindow—ashinysaxophoneinaredvelvetcase,somesolidpowertools,theircordsneatlywrappedintofigureeightsheldtightwithelasticbands,afewtired,oldcellphones,andsomejewelryinadisplaycase.Inthemiddleofthecaseisanewaddition,aring,aman’sring,aweddingring,encrustedindiamondsandotherjewels,gleaming,anobjectofobviousandrareluxury—afinetreasure.
Icouldtelltheshopkeeperfeltsorryformewhenhehandedovertheagreed-uponsum.Thetightlips.Thesmilethatwasn’tasmile.I’mbeginningtounderstandthenuancesofsmiles,theircornucopiaofmeanings.IsaveeachsmileinadictionarythatIkeepalphabetizedonashelfinmymind.
“I’msorrythingsdidn’tturnoutthewayyou’dhoped,”theshopkeepersaid.“Withyourman,I’mmean.”
“Withmyman?”Ireplied.“Onthecontrary,”Isay.“Forthefirsttimeinalongtime,thingsaregoingwellwithhim.Verywellindeed.”
Iwalkbrisklytheentirewaybacktothehotel,checkingthetimefrequently.I’mmakinggoodprogress.It’snowfivetoone,andI’mnearlyatthehotel,mytimeestimationalmostexactlyright.I’mabitflushedfromthewalk,andthewadofbillsovermyheartisslightlydamp,butnomatter.
Itwouldappearthehotelhasclearedoutabitsincethemorning;therearefewerguestsabout.Mr.Prestonisaloneathisdoorman’spodium.Whenheseesmeapproaching,hestepsoutfrombehindit,hisarmsoddlystiffbyhissides.Iwaveandrushupthestairs,butMr.PrestoncallsdownbeforeIreachthetop.
“Molly,”hesays,hisvoiceatensewhisper.“Gohome.”
Istoponthethirdstair.Hisexpressionisodd,asthoughheverymuchneedsawashroombreak.
“Mr.Preston,Ican’tgohomenow.I’monlyhalfwaythroughmyshift.”
“Molly,”hecallsdownagain.“Usethebackdoor.Please.”
“Areyouquiteallright,Mr.Preston?Doyouneedassistance?”
It’sonlythenthatitcomesintofocus—theabsenceofguestsinthegrandentrance,Mr.Prestonstandingtooformallyatthepodium,hisstrange,whisperedorders.Throughtheglassoftherevolvingdoors,IcanmakeoutMr.Snowandbesidehim,alooming,shadowyfigure.DetectiveStark
“Mydeargirl,”Mr.Prestonsays.“Don’tgoinside.”
“It’squiteallright,”IsayasImarchuptheremainingsteps.“Afewmorequestionswon’tkillme.”
Ipushthroughthedoors.BeforeIcantakemorethanonestepintothelobby,Mr.SnowandDetectiveStarkblockmypath.There’ssomethingaboutDetectiveStark’sposturethatIdon’tlike—thewayherarmsarebowedandherhandsoutstretched,asifI’mavarmintshe’sdeterminedtocatchbeforeItakeflight.IseeCheryloutofthecornerofmyeye,standingafewtrolley-lengthsaway,butthere’ssomethingdifferentabouthertoo.It’sthefirsttimeI’veseenagenuinesmileonherface—alookofanticipationandexcitement.
“Excuseme,”IsaytoMr.SnowandDetectiveStark.“Imustnotdillydally.Therestofmyshiftbeginsinapproximatelythreeminutes.”
“I’mafraiditdoesn’t,”saysDetectiveStark.
IlooktoMr.Snow,buthecanbarelymeetmyeye.Hisglassesarecantileveredtooneside.Beadsofsweathaveformedathistemples.“Molly,thedetectiveistakingyoubacktothestationformorequestioning.”
“Can’tIanswerquestionshereandthengetbacktowork?Ihaveaheavyworkloadtoday.”
“Thatwon’tbepossible,”saysDetectiveStark.“There’saneasywayandahardwaytodoeverything.Andtheeasywayisbest.”
It’saninterestingcomment,butit’sdeadwrong.Inmylineofwork,theeasywayisthelazyway,notthebestwayatall.Butsincewe’reinthehotelandthattechnicallymakesthedetectiveaguest,Iwillbepoliteandbitemytongue.
Ilookaroundthelobbyagainandnoticethatmorepeoplehavebeguntogather.They’renotmillingabout,headingtoandfrothewaytheyusuallydo.They’veformedlittleclusters—bythereceptiondesk,intheloungechairs,onthemarblelandingbythegrandstaircase.They’reoddlystatic.Andquiet.They’realllookinginonedirection.Theircoldeyesarelookingatme.
“Well,DetectiveStark,”Isay.“I’llaccepttheeasyway.”IlookatMr.Snowandadd,“Butjustthisonce.”
DetectiveStarkgesturesformetoleadthewayouttherevolvingdoors,whichIdo,asshefollowstoocloselybehindme.AsIpass,Itakeoneglancebackandseealleyestrackingmydeparture.
Mr.Prestonisoutsidethedooratthetopofthestairs.“Here,”hesays,takingmyelbow.“Allowmetohelpyou,Molly.”
I’mabouttotellhimI’mquiteallright,butasIlookdownatthestairs,theredcarpetundulatesinavertigo-inducingwave.IholdtightlytoMr.Preston’sarm.Itfeelswarm.Comforting.
Weareatthebottomofthestaircase.
DetectiveStarksays,“Let’sgo.It’stime.”
“Molly,takegoodcare,”Mr.Prestonsays.
“Ialwaysdo,”Ireply,notentirelybelievingmyownwords.
Thecarrideissilent.Thistime,I’mseatedinthebackofthepolicecruiserinsteadofupfront.Idon’tlikeitbackhere.ThevinylupholsterysqueaksundermeeverytimeImaketheslightestmove.Abullet-proofglassbarrierseparatesDetectiveStarkfromme.Itissmearedwithgrubbyfingerprintsanddark-brownbloodstains.
Imagineyou’reinalimousine,sittinginthebackseat,beingdriventotheopera.
Granremindsmethatentrapmentisonlyastateofmind,thatthere’salwaysawayout.Ijoinmyhandsinmylapandbreathedeeply.Iwilladmiretheviewoutthewindow.Yes.Iwillconcentrateonthat.
Weareatthestationinwhatfeelslikeseconds.Onceinside,DetectiveStarkleadsmetothesamewhiteroominwhichIwasquestionedbefore.Onourwaythere,Ifeelmoreeyesuponme—uniformedofficerswhogawkasIpass,someofthemofferinganod,nottome,buttoDetectiveStark.Iholdmyheadhigh.
“Haveaseat,”thedetectivesays.IsitdowninthesameseatwhereIsatbefore,andDetectiveStarksitsacrossfromme.Sheclosesthedoor.Shedoesn’toffermecoffeeorevenwaterthistime,whichisashame.Icouldusesomewater,thoughIknowifIaskforsomeitwillarriveinadastardlyStyrofoamcup.
Shouldersback,chinup,breathe.
DetectiveStarkhasnotsaidaword.She’ssittingthereinfrontofme,watchingme.Thecamerainthecornerblinksitsredeyeatme.
I’mthefirsttobreakthesilence.“HowmayIbeofservicetoyou,DetectiveStark?”Iask.
“Howcanyoubeofservicetome?Well,MollytheMaid.Youcanstartbytellingthetruth.”
“Mygranusedtosaythatthetruthissubjective.ButI’veneverquitebelievedthat.Ibelievethetruthisabsolute,”Isay.
“Thenthere’ssomethingweagreeon,”DetectiveStarkreplies.Sheleansforwardandputsherelbowsonthescuffedwhitetablebetweenus.Iwishshewouldn’t.Idisapproveofelbowsonthetable.ButIdon’tsayanything.
SheiscloseenoughthatIcanseetinygoldflecksintheirisesofherblueeyes.“Sincewe’retalkingabouttruth,”shesays,“I’dliketosharewithyoutheresultsofMr.Black’stoxicologyreport.Noautopsyreportyet,butwe’llhavethatsoonenough.Mr.Blackhaddrugsinhissystem,thesamedrugthatwasonhisbedsidetableandstrewnonthefloorofhisbedroom.”
“Giselle’smedicine,”Isay.
“Medicine?Benzodiazepine,lacedwithsomeotherstreetdrugs.”
IttakesmeamomenttochangethepictureinmyheadfromGiselleatthedrugstorecountertoheracquiringsomethingillicitinasordidbackalley.Somethingisn’tright.Itdoesn’tmakesense.
“Anyhow,”DetectiveStarksays,“Itwasn’tthepillsthatkilledhim.Hehadalotinhissystem,butnotenoughtokillhim.”
“Whatdoyoubelievekilledhimthen?”Iask.
“Wedon’tknowyet.ButIassureyou,we’llgettothebottomofit,”shesays.“Thefullautopsyreportwilldetermineifthepetechialhemorrhagingwasduetoacardiacarrestorifsomethingmoresinisterhappened.”
Itcomesbacktomeinaflash.Theroomstartstospin.IseeMr.Black,hisskingrayandtaut,thelittlepinprickbruisesaroundhiseyes,hisbodystiffandlifeless.AfterImadethecalltothefrontdesk,Ilookedup.Icaughtmyreflectioninthemirroronthewallinfrontofthebed.
Suddenly,Ifeelclammyandcold,likeI’mabouttofaint.
DetectiveStarkpursesherlips,bideshertime.Eventually,shesays,“Ifyouknowsomething,now’syourchancetobeonthesideofgood.YoudounderstandthatMr.Blackwasaveryimportantman?AVIP?”
“No,”Isay.
“Excuseme?”DetectiveStarkreplies.
“Idon’tbelievethatsomepeoplearemoreimportantthanotherpeople.We’reallveryimportantinourownway,Detective.Forinstance,I’msittingherewithyou—alowlyhotelmaid—andyetclearlythereissomethingveryimportantaboutme.Otherwise,youwouldn’thavebroughtmeheretoday.”
DetectiveStarkislisteningcarefully.Shezeroesinonmyeveryword.
“Letmeaskyousomething,”shesays.“Doesitevermakeyouangry?Beingamaid,Imean?Cleaningupafterrichpeople?Takingcareoftheirmesses?”
I’mimpressedbythislineofquestioning.ThisisnotwhatIwasexpectingatallwhenIwasescortedhere.
“Yes,”Ianswertruthfully.“Idosometimesfeelangry.Especiallywhenguestsarecareless.Whentheyforgetthattheiractionshaveanimpactonothers,whenI’mtreatedlikeIdon’tmatter.”
DetectiveStarksaysnothing.Herelbowsremainonthetable,whichcontinuestograteonmynerveseventhoughit’sonlyofficiallyabreachofetiquettewhenthere’samealbeingserved.
“Nowletmeaskyouaquestion,”Isay.“Doesiteverbotheryou?”
“Doeswhateverbotherme?”
“Cleaningupafterrichpeople.Takingcareoftheirmesses,”Isay.
ThedetectivepullsbackasthoughI’vesproutedtheheadofHydraandonehundredserpentsarehissinginherface.Whatpleasesme,though,isthatherelbowsarenolongeronthetable.
“Isthathowyouseethis?Thatmyjobasadetectiveistocleanupafteramanhasdied?”
“WhatI’msayingisthatwe’renotsodifferent,whenitcomesdowntoit.”
“Isthatso?”
“Youwantthismesscleanedup,andsodoI.Webothseekatidyclosuretothisunfortunatesituation.Areturntonormalcy.”
“WhatI’mseekingisthetruth,Molly.AbouthowMr.Blackdied.Andrightnow,Ialsowanttoknowthetruthaboutyou.We’veuncoveredsomeinterestinginformationinthelastforty-eighthours.Whenwespoketheotherday,yousaidyoudidn’tknowGiselleBlackparticularlywell.Butasitturnsout,that’snottrue.”
Iwon’tgiveherthesatisfactionofflinching.Giselleismyfriend.I’veneverhadafriendlikeherbefore,andI’macutelyawareofhoweasyitwouldbetoloseher.Iconsiderhowtoprotectherandtellthetruthatthesametime.
“Gisellehasconfidedinmeinthepast.Thatdoesn’tmeanIknowheraswellasI’dlike.Mr.Blackdefinitelyhadatemper.ItwashardnottonoticeGiselle’sbruises.Sheconfessedhewasthecauseofthem.”
“Youdorealizewe’vebeentalkingtootheremployeesatthehotel,right?”
“Iwouldhaveexpectedasmuch,yes.I’msureyou’llfindthemveryhelpfultoyourinvestigation,”Isay.
“They’vetoldusalot.NotonlyaboutGiselleandMr.Black.Butaboutyou.”
Ifeelmystomachtwist.SurelywhoeverspoketoDetectiveStarkwouldhavebeenfairintheircommentary,evenifI’mnottheircupoftea?AndifthedetectiveconsultedMr.Snow,Mr.Preston,orRodney,shewouldhavereceivedaglowingreportonmyemployeeconductandgeneralreliability.
Athoughtoccurstome.Cheryl.Shewas“sick”yesterday—thoughprobablynotsosickthatshecouldn’tmakeherwaydowntothisverystation.
Asifreadingmymind,thedetectivesays,“Molly,we’vebeentalkingtoCheryl,yoursupervisor.”
“Idohopeshewashelpful,”Ireply,thoughIhighlydoubtshewas.
“WeaskedCherylifsheevercleanedtheBlacks’suitewhentheystayedatthehotel.Shesaidthatforawhileshedidcleantheirsuitealongsideyou.Itwasherwayofmaintainingqualitycontrolandkeepinghermaidssharp.”
Theacidbuildsinmystomach.“Itwasherwayofsiphoningofftipsthatweremeantforthosewhodotheworkratherthanforthosewhostandaroundwatching,”Isay.
Thedetectiveignoresmywordsentirely.“CherylsaidthatsheobservedafriendlyrelationshipbetweenyouandGiselle,akindofspecialkinshipthatwasunusualbetweenaguestandamaid,especiallyforyou,sinceyoudon’treallyhavefriends,soI’mtold.”
IknewCherylwaswatchingme,butIneverrealizedjusthowmuch.ItakeamomenttocollectmythoughtsbeforeIrespond.“Gisellewasgratefulformyservices,”Isay.“Thatwasthebasisforourrelationship.”
“Tellme,didyoueverreceivetipsfromGiselle?Orlargesumsofmoney?”sheasks.
“SheandMr.Blacktippedmewell,”Ianswer.Iwon’tgointofurtherdetailsaboutthecountlesstimesGiselleplacedbrand-new$100billsintothepalmofmyhandtothankmeforkeepingthesuiteclean.AndIwon’tmentionhervisittomyhomenorthecharitablemonetarygiftsheleftmelastnight.It’snoone’sbusinessexceptmine.
“DidGiselleevergiveyouanythingbesidesmoney?”
Kindness.Friendship.Help.Trust.“Nothingoutoftheordinary,”Isay.
“Nothingatall?”
DetectiveStarkdigsinherpocketandtakesoutasmallkey.Sheopensadrawerinthetablebetweenus.Shetakesoutthetimer,Giselle’stimer,hergoldengifttome.Thedetectiveplacesitonthetable.
Ifeelasurgeofheatrisetomyface.“Cherylletyouintomylocker.That’smylocker,it’smypersonalspace.That’snotright,invadingsomeone’sprivacy,touchingtheirthingswithoutpermission.”
“Thoselockersarehotelproperty,Molly.Pleaserememberyou’rejustanemployee,nottheownerofthehotel.Now,tellme:areyoureadytoconfessthetruthaboutyouandGiselle?”
ThetruthaboutGiselleandmeissomethingIbarelyunderstand.It’sasstrangeasababyrhinobeingadoptedbyatortoise.HowamIsupposedtoexplainsuchathing?“Idon’tknowwhattotellyou,”Isay.
“Thenletmetellyousomething,”DetectiveStarkrepliesasherelbowsreclaimthetable.“You’rerapidlybecomingapersonofinteresttous.Doyouunderstandwhatthatmeans?”
I’mdetectinganairofcondescension.I’veencounteredthisbefore—peoplewhoassumethatI’macompleteidiotjustbecauseIdon’tgraspthingsthatcomeeasilytothem.
“You’rebecomingaVIP,Molly,”DetectiveStarkadds.“Andnotthegoodkind.You’veproventhatyou’recapableofleavingoutimportantdetails,ofbendingthetruthtosuityou.I’mgoingtoaskyouonemoretime:areyouincontactwithGiselleBlack?”
IdeliberateoncemoreandfindI’mabletoanswerthiswith100percenthonesty.“IamnotcurrentlyincontactwithGiselle,thoughasIunderstandit,sheremainsaguestatthehotel.”
“Let’shopeforyoursakethat’sthetruth.Andlet’shopetheautopsyreportshowsanaturalcauseofdeath.Untilthen,you’renottoleavethecountryorattempttohidefromusinanyway.You’renotunderarrest.”
“Imostcertainlyhopenot.I’vedonenothingwrong!”
“Doyouhaveavalidpassport?”
“No.”
Shecocksherheadtooneside.“Ifyou’relying,I’llfindout.Icanlookyouup,youknow.”
“Andwhenyoudo,”Isay,“you’llfindthatIdonothaveapassportbecauseI’veneverleftthecountryinmylife.You’llalsofindI’mamodelcitizenandthatIhaveacompletelycleanrecord.”
“Don’tgoanywhere,youunderstand?”
It’spreciselythiskindoflanguagethatalwaystripsmeup.“MayIgotomyhome?MayIgotothestore?Totherestroom?Andwhataboutwork?”
Shesighs.“Yes,ofcourseyoucangohomeandtoalltheplacesyou’dusuallygo.Andyes,youcangotowork.WhatI’msayingiswe’llbewatchingyou.”
Herewegoagain.“Watchingmedowhat?”Iask.
Hereyesdrillintomine.“Whateveritisyou’rehiding,whoeveryou’retryingtoprotect,we’llfindout.OnethingI’velearnedinmybusinessisthatyoucanhidedirtforawhile,butatsomepoint,itallcomestothesurface.Doyouunderstand?”
“You’reaskingmeifIunderstanddirt?”
Smudgesondoorknobs.Shoeprintsonfloors.Dustringsontabletops.Mr.Blackdeadinhisbed.
“Yes,Detective.Iunderstanddirtbetterthanmost.”
Itisthree-thirtywhenDetectiveStarkdismissesmefromthewhiteroom.Iwalkmyselfoutthestationdoor.Nocourtesyridehomethistime.Ihaven’teatensincethemorning,andIhaven’thadsomuchasacupofteatotidemeover.
Mystomachroils.Thedragonawakes.Ihavetopauseamomentonthesidewalkinfrontofmybuildingjusttokeepfromfainting.
It’smydeception,nothunger,that’shavingadeleteriouseffectonmynerves.It’sthefactthatIhaven’tdisclosedfullyaboutGisellenoraboutwhatIcurrentlyhavehiddenovermyheart.That’swhathasmeinsuchastate.
Honestyistheonlypolicy.
IcanseeGran’sface,twistedwithdisappointment,thedayIcamehomefromschoolattheageoftwelveandsheaskedmehowmydaywas.Itoldheritwasordinary,nothingtoreport.That,too,wasalie.Thetruthwas,Iranawayatlunchtime,whichwasfarfromordinary.TheschoolcalledGran.IconfessedtoGranwhyI’drunaway.Myclassmateshadformedaringaroundmeintheschoolyardandorderedmetorollaroundinthemudandeatit,kickingmewhileIobeyedtheirorder.Theywerekeenlyinventivewhenitcametotormentingme,andthisiterationwasnoexception.
Whentheordealwasover,Iwenttothecommunitylibraryandspenthoursinthebathroomwashingthegrimeoffmyfaceandmouth,scrapingtheearthoutfromundermyfingernails.Iwatchedwithsatisfactionastheevidencecircleddownthedrain.IwassocertainI’dgetawaywithit,thatGranwouldneverfindout.
Butshedidfindout.AndshehadonlyonequestionformeafterIconfessedtobeingbullied.“Deargirl,whydidn’tyoujusttellthetruthrightaway?Toyourteacher?Tome?Toanyone?”ThenshecriedandembracedmewithsuchforcethatIwasneverabletoanswerherquestion.ButIhadananswer.Idid.Ididn’ttellthetruthbecausethetruthhurt.Whathappenedatschoolwasbadenough,butGranknowingaboutmysufferingmeantsheexperiencedmypaintoo.
That’sthetroublewithpain.It’sascontagiousasadisease.Itspreadsfromthepersonwhofirstenduredittothosewholovethemmost.Truthisn’talwaysthehighestideal;sometimesitmustbesacrificedtostopthespreadofpaintothoseyoulove.Evenchildrenknowthisintuitively.
Mystomachsettles.Steadinessreturns.Icrossthestreetandentermybuilding.Iboundupthestairstomyfloor,headingstraightforMr.Rosso’sdoor.IextricatethewadofbillsI’veplacedbymyheartforsafekeeping.IwasawareofthemthewholetimeIwasatthepolicestation,butfarfrombeinganuisance,theyfeltprotective,likeashield.
Iknockloudly.IhearMr.Rossopaddingdownhishallway,thenthescratchysquealofthelocktwisting.Mylandlord’sfaceappears,ruddyandbulbous.Iholdoutthebillsinmyhand.
“Hereistherestofthismonth’srent,”Isay.“Asyoucansee,Itakeaftermygran.I’mawomanofmyword.”
Hetakesthemoneyandcountsit.“It’sallthere,butIappreciateyourdiligence,”Isay.
Whenhe’sdonecounting,henodsslowly.“Molly,let’snotdothiseverymonth,okay?Iknowyourgrandmotherisgone,butyouneedtopayyourrentontime.Youneedtogetyourlifeinorder.”
“I’mwellawareofthat,”Isay.“Asfororder,itismyexpresswishtoliveasorderedalifeaspossible.Buttheworldisfilledwithrandomchaosthatoftenbedevilsmyattemptsatarrangement.MayIhavemyreceiptforfullpayment,please?”
Hesighs.Iknowwhatthismeans.He’sexasperated,whichdoesnotseemfair.Ifsomeoneweretoplaceawadofbillsintomyhands,restassuredIwouldnotsighlikethis.I’dbegratefulbeyondmeasure.
“I’llfilloutareceipttonight,”hesays,“andgiveittoyoutomorrow.”
Iwouldmuchprefertohavethatreceiptinmyhandtoutsuite,butIdefer.“Thatwouldbeacceptable.Thankyou,”Isay.“Andhavealovelyevening.”
Hecloseshisdoorwithoutsomuchasamannered“Youtoo.”
Igotomyownentranceandturnthekey.Istepacrossthethresholdandlockthedoorbehindme.Ourhome.Myhome.ExactlyasIleftitthismorning.Neat.Orderly.Unnervinglyquiet,despiteGran’svoiceinmyhead.
Therearetimesinlifewhenwemustdothingswedon’twantto.Butdothemwemust.
Normally,IfeelawaveofreliefflowthroughmetheinstantIclosethedoorbehindme.Here,I’msafe.Noexpressionstointerpret.Noconversationstodecode.Norequests.Nodemands.
Itakeoffmyshoes,wipethemdown,andplacethemneatlyinthecloset.IpatGran’sserenitypillowonthechairbythedoor.Itakeaseatonthesofainthelivingroomtocollectmythoughts.Iamallamuddle,evenhere,inthepeaceofmyownhome.IknowImustconsidermynextsteps—shouldIcallGiselle?OrmaybeRodney,forsupportandadvice?Mr.Snow,toapologizeformyabsencethisafternoon,forleavingmyroomswithoutcompletingmydailyquota?—butIfindmyselfoverwhelmedbytheverythoughtofitall.
IfeeloutofsortsinawayIhaven’tfeltinawhile,notsinceWilburandtheFabergé,notsincethedayGrandied.
Inthattoo-brightstationroomtoday,DetectiveStarklaidblameonme,treatingmelikesomesortofcommoncriminalwhenI’mnothingofthesort.AllIwantistoturnmyheadandfindGransittingonthesofabesideme,saying,Deargirl.Donotfretyourselfintoatizzy.Lifehasawayofsortingitselfout.
Iheadtothekitchenandputthekettleon.Myhandsareshaky.Iopenthefridgeandfinditmostlybare—justacoupleofcrumpetsleft,whichIshouldsavefortomorrow’sbreakfast.Ifindafewbiscuitsinthecupboardandarrangethemneatlyonaplate.Whenthewaterhasboiled,Imakemytea,addingtwosugarstocompensateforthelackofmilk.Imeantosavoreachbiteofthebiscuits,butinsteadIfindmyselfdevouringthemgreedilyandwashingthemdownwithbiggulpsoftearightatthekitchencounter.MycupisemptybeforeIevenknowit.Instantly,Ifeeltheteaworking.Warmenergyflowsthroughmeagain.
Whenallelsefails,tidyup.
It’sagoodidea.Nothingraisesmyspiritsmorethanagoodtidy.Iwashoutmyteacup,dryit,andputitaway.Gran’scuriocabinetinthelivingroomcoulduseabitofattention.Icarefullyopentheglassdoorsandremoveallofherprecioustreasures—amenagerieofSwarovskicrystalanimals,eachonepaidforwithbackbreakingovertimehoursattheColdwells’mansion.Therearespoons,too,silvermostly,collectedfromthriftshopsovertheyears.Andthephotos—Granandmebaking,Granandmeinfrontofawaterfountaininapark,GranandmeattheOliveGarden,glassesofChardonnayraised.Andtheonephotothatisnotofusbutofmymotherwhenshewasyoung.
Ipickitup.Myhandsstillaren’tentirelysteady.IhavetoconcentrateasIdustandpolishtheglassframe.Ifmyfingersslip,theframewillfalltothefloor,theglasswillshatterintohundredsofdeadlyshards.Igetdownonmykneestobeclosertotheground.It’ssaferthisway.I’mholdingtheframeinbothhands,studyingmymother’simage.I’msurroundedbyallofGran’slovelythings.
Anothermemorysurfaces,notarecentone,oneIhaven’tthoughtaboutinalongtime.IwasaboutthirteenyearsoldwhenIwalkedthroughthedoorafterschoolonedaytofindGrankneelingonthefloormuchlikeI’mdoingnow.ItwasThursday—dustwemust—andshe’dstartedthechore,hercollectionstrewnabouther,apolishingclothandthisphotoofmymotherinherhands.AssoonasIcrossedthethreshold,Iknewsomethingwasn’tquiteright.Granwasdisheveled.Herhair,whichwasusuallyperfectlycurledandcoiffed,wasindisarray.Therewerestainsonhercheeksandhereyeswerepuffy.
“Gran?”Iasked,beforeevenwipingdownthebottomsofmyshoes.“Areyouallright?”
Shedidn’tanswer.Shejuststaredatmewithaglassy,farawaylookinhereyes.Thenshesaid,“Deargirl,I’msimplygoingtotellittoyouasitis.Yourmother.She’sdead.”
IfoundmyselfgluedtothespotwhereIstood.Iknewthatmymotherwasoutthereintheworldsomewhere,buttome,shewasasabstractafigureasthequeen.Tome,itwasasifshe’ddiedlongago.ButtoGran,shemeantsomuch,andthisiswhathadmeworried.
EveryyearasMother’sDaydrewnear,Granwouldbeginherthrice-dailyperegrinationstoourmailbox.Shewashopingthere’dbeacardfrommymother.Intheearlyyears,cardsappeared,signedinshakyscrawl.Granwouldbesohappy.
“She’sstillintheresomewhere,mylittlegirl,”she’dsay.
Butforyearsonend,Mother’sDayafterMother’sDay,nocardsarrivedandGranwouldbeglumfortherestofthemonth.Icompensatedbysplurgingonthebiggest,cheeriestcardIcouldfind,addinga“Gran”before“Mother,”fillingtheinsidewithevenlyspacedx’sando’s,andredandpinkheartsthatI’dcolorin,carefulnottostrayoutsidethelines.
WhenGrantoldmemymotherwasdead,itwasn’tmyownpainthatIfelt.Itwashers.
Shecriedandcriedandcried,whichwassounlikeherthatitunsettledmetomycore.
Ihurriedtohersideandplacedahandonherback.
“Whatyouneedisagoodcupoftea,”Isaid.“There’salmostnothingthatagoodcupofteacan’tcure.”
Irushedtothekitchenandputthekettleon,myhandsshaking.IcouldhearGransobbingonthesitting-roomfloor.Oncethewaterhadboiled,ImadetwoperfectcupsandbroughtthemtothelivingroomonGran’ssilvertray.
“Thereweare,”Isaid.“Whydon’twehaveaweesitonthesofa.”
ButGranwouldn’tmove.Thepolishingclothwasballedupinoneofherhands.
Isteppedthroughtheobstaclecourseoftreasuresandclearedmyselfaspotbesideheronthefloor.Iputthetraydowntooneside,pickedupbothteacups,andpositionedtheminfrontofus.IputonehandonGran’sshoulderagain.
“Gran?”Isaid.“Willyousitup?Willyoujoinmefortea?”Myvoicewastrembling.Iwasterrified.I’dneverseenGransoweakanddiminished,asfragileasababybird.
Graneventuallysatup.Shedabbedathereyeswiththepolishingcloth.
“Oh,”shesaid.“Tea.”
Wesatlikethat,Granandme,onthefloor,drinkingtea,surroundedbySwarovskicrystalanimalsandsilverspoons.Mymother’sphotowasbesideus,theabsentthirdpersonatourteaparty.
WhenGranspokenext,hervoicehadreturned,composedandsteady.“Deargirl,”shesaid.“I’msorryIwassoupset.Butnottoworry,I’mfeelingmuchbetternow.”Shetookasmallsipfromhercupandsmiledatme.Itwasnotherusualsmile.Ittraveledonlyhalfwayacrossherface.
Aquestionoccurredtome.“Didsheeveraskaboutme?Mymother?”
“Ofcourseshedid,dear.Whenshe’dcalloutoftheblue,itwasoftentoaskaboutyou.I’dupdateher,ofcourse.Foraslongasshe’dlisten.Sometimesthatwasn’tverylong.”
“Becauseshewasunwell?”Iasked.ThiswasthewordGranalwaysusedtoexplainwhymymotherhadleftinthefirstplace.
“Yes,becauseshewasterriblyunwell.Whenshecalledme,itwasusuallyfromthestreets.ButwhenIstoppedprovidingfunds,shestoppedcalling.”
“Andmyfather?”Iasked.“Whathappenedtohim?”
“LikeI’vesaidbefore,hewasnotagoodegg.Itriedtohelpyourmotherseethis.Ievencalledoldfriendstohelpmecoaxherawayfromhim,butthatprovedineffective.”
Granpausedandtookanothersipoftea.“Youmustpromiseme,deargirl,tonevergetmixedupwithdrugs.”Hereyesfilledwithtears.
“Ipromise,Gran,”Isaid.
Ididn’tknowwhatelsetosay,soIreachedoutandhuggedher.Icouldfeelherholdingontomeinawholenewway.ItwastheonlytimeIeverfeltthatIwasgivingherahug,ratherthantheotherwayaround.
Whenweseparated,Ididn’tknowwhatthecorrectetiquettewas.Isaid,“Whatdoyousay,Gran?Whenallelsefails,tidyup?”
Shenodded.“Mydeargirl,you’reatreasuretome.Thatyouare.Shallwetacklethismesstogether?”
Andwiththat,Granwasback.Perhapsshewasdissimulating,butaswearrangedallofhertrinkets,freshlycleanedandpolished,andputthembackinthecuriocabinet,shechirpedandchatteredonasthoughitwereanordinaryday.
Weneverspokeofmymotheragainafterthat.
HereIamnow,inthesamespotasIwasthatday,surroundedbyamenagerieofmementoes.Butthistime,I’mdreadfullyalone.
“Gran,”Isaytotheemptyroom,“IthinkI’mintrouble.”
Iarrangethephotosontopofthecuriocabinet.IpolisheachofGran’streasuresandstowthemsafelybehindtheglass.Istandinfrontofthecabinetlookingateverythinginside.Idon’tknowwhattodo.
You’reneveraloneaslongasyouhaveafriend
I’vebeenmanagingonmyownthroughmostofthis,butperhapsitreallyistimetocallforhelp.
IgotothefrontdoorwhereIleftmyphone.IpickitupanddialRodney.
Heanswersafterthesecondring.“Hello?”
“Hello,Rodney,”Isay.“IhopeIhaven’tcaughtyouataninopportunemoment.”
“Allgood,”hesays.“What’sup?Isawyouleavethehotelwiththecops.Everyone’stalking,sayingyou’reintrouble.”
“I’msorrytoreportthatinthisparticularcase,thegossipmaybecorrect.”
“Whatdidthepolicewant?”
“Thetruth,”Isay.“Aboutme.AboutGiselle.Mr.Blackdidn’tdieofanoverdose.Notexactly.”
“Oh,thankGodforthat.Whatdidhedieof?”
“Theydon’tknowyet.Butit’scleartheysuspectme.AndmaybeGiselletoo.”
“But…youdidn’ttellthemanythingabouther,didyou?”
“Notmuch,”Isay.
“Andyoudidn’tmentionJuanManueloranyofthat,right?”
“Whatdoeshehavetodowithanything?”
“Nothing.Nothingatall.So…whyareyoucallingme?”
“Rodney,Ineedhelp.”MyvoicecracksandIfinditdifficulttomaintainmycomposure.
Hegoesquietforamoment,thenasks,“Didyou…didyoukillMr.Black?”
“No!Ofcoursenot.Howcouldyoueven—”
“Sorry,sorry.ForgetIevensaidthat.Sohowareyouintroubleexactly?”
“Giselle,shehadmegobackintothesuitebecauseshe’dleftsomethingbehind.Agun.Shewanteditback.Andshe’smyfriend,soI…”
“Jesus.”There’sapauseontheotherendoftheline.“Right.”
“Rodney?”
“Yes,I’mhere,”hesays.“Sowhere’sthatgunnow?”
“Inmyvacuumcleaner.Bymylocker.”
“Wehavetogetthatgun,”Rodneysays.Icanheartheagitationinhisvoice.“Wehavetomakeitdisappear.”
“Yes!Exactly,”Isay.“OhRodney,I’msosorrytoinvolveyouinallofthis.Andplease,ifthepoliceevertalktoyou,youhavetotellthemI’mnotabadperson,thatIwouldneverhurtanyone.”
“Don’tworry,Molly.I’lltakecareofeverything.”
Ifeelrawgratitudeclimbingupmychest,threateningtospilloutofmeinblubberingtears,butIwon’tletthathappenincaseRodneyfindsitunbecoming.Iwantthisexperiencetodrawuscloser,notbreakusapart.Itakeadeepbreathandpushmysentimentsbackdown.
“Thankyou,Rodney,”Isay.“You’reagoodfriend.Morethanthat,even.Idon’tknowwhatI’ddowithoutyou.”
“I’vegotyourback,”hesays.
Butthere’smore.Ifearthatwhenhehearstherest,hemayturnawayfrommeforever.
“There’sanotherspotof…information,”Isay.“Mr.Black’sweddingring.Ifounditinthesuite.And,well….Thisisveryhardformetoadmit,butI’verecentlyfoundmyselfinsomeacutefinancialdistress.ItooktheringtoapawnshoptodaysothatIcouldpaymyrent.”
“You…youwhat?”
“It’sondisplayinashopwindowdowntown.”
“Ican’tbelieveit.Ireallycan’tbelieveit,”hereplies.Icanhearhimalmostlaughing,asifthisisthemostwonderfulnews.Surelyhedoesn’tfindthisfunny.Itstrikesmethatlaughsarejustlikesmiles.Peopleusethemtoexpressanarrayofconfoundingemotions.
“I’vemadeaterriblemistake,”Isay.“Ineverthoughtthey’dinterrogatemeagain.Ithoughtmypartinallofthiswasover.IfthepolicefindoutIpawnedMr.Black’sring,itwillappearasthoughIkilledhimforfinancialgain.Canyouseethat?”
“AbsolutelyIcan,”saysRodney.“Wow.It’s…incredible.Listen,everything’sgoingtoturnoutjustfine.Leaveeverythingtome.”
“Willyoumakethegungoaway?Andthering?Ishouldneverhavetakenit.Itwaswrong.Willyoubuyitbackandmakesurethatnooneeverseesitagain?I’llpayyoubacksomeday.Youhavemyword.”
“LikeIsaid,Molly.Leaveeverythinginmyhands.You’reathomenow?”
“Yes,”Isay.
“Don’tgoouttonight.Okay?Don’tgoanywhere.”
“Ineverdo.Rodney,”Isay.“Ican’tthankyouenough.”
“That’swhatfriendsarefor,right?Tohelpeachotheroutofbinds?”
“Right,”Isay.“That’swhatfriendsarefor.”
“Rodney?”Isayintothereceiver.I’mabouttoaddthatImostdesperatelywouldliketobemorethanjustafriendtohim,butit’stoolate.He’shungupwithoutsayinggoodbye.I’velefthimwithquiteamesstotidy,andhe’snotwastingamoment.
Whenallofthisisover,I’mgoingtotakehimonanall-expenses-paidTourofItaly.WewillsitinourprivateboothattheOliveGardenunderthewarmglowofthependantlight,andwewilleatmountainsofsaladandbread,followedbyauniverseofpastaandtoppedbyasmorgasbordofsweetdesserts.Somehow,whenwe’redone,Iwillpickupthebill.
Iwillpayforallofthis.IknowIwill.
ThenextmorningI’matthehotel,andI’mlate,ohsoverylate.NomatterhowhardIwork,nomatterhowmanyroomsIclean,Ican’tkeepup.Ifinishoneroomandanobsidiandoor,likeagreat,gapingmaw,openstothenextguestroomjustdownthehall.There’sdirteverywhere—gritgroundintothepileofeverycarpet,cracksinallthemirrors,greasysmudgesontabletops,andbloodyfingerprintssmearedacrosstwistedsheets.Suddenly,I’mclimbingthegrandterracestaircaseinthelobby,desperatetogetaway.Myhandsclutchthegoldenserpentbalustrades,eachoneslipperytothetouch.Thebeadyreptilianeyeslookfamiliar,thentheyblinkandcometolifeundermyfingers.WitheachstepItake,anewserpentawakens—Cheryl,Mr.Snow,Wilbur,thetattooedbehemoths,Mr.Rosso,DetectiveStark,Rodney,Giselle,andfinally,Mr.Black.
“No!”Iscream,butthenIhearknocking.Isitbolt-uprightinbed,myheartpoundinginmychest.
“Gran?”Icallout.Itcomesbacktomeasitdoeseverymorning.I’maloneintheworld.
Knock.Knock.Knock.
Icheckmyphone.It’snotquiteseveninthemorning,somyalarmhasnotyetgoneoff.Whointheirrightmindwouldberappingonmydooratthismostinconvenienthour?ThenIrememberMr.Rosso,whoowesmemyreceiptforrentpaid.
Ihaulmyselfoutofbedandputmyslipperson.“Coming!”Isay.“Justonemoment!”
Ishakeawaythenightmareandwalkdownthehallwaytothefrontdoor.Islidetherustydeadboltacross,thenturnthelockandopenthedoorwide.
“Mr.Rosso,whileIappreciateyoubringing—”ButmidsentenceIstopcoldbecauseit’snotMr.Rossoatthedoor.
Animposingyoungpoliceofficerisstandingwithhisfeetapart,blockingallthelight.Behindhimaretwomoreofficers,amiddle-agedmanwhowouldfitinfineinColumbo,andDetectiveStark.
“Pleaseexcuseme.I’mnotproperlydressed,”Isay.Iclutchatthecollarofmypajamas,whichusedtobeGran’s—pinkflannelwithadelightfularrayofmulticoloredteapotsalloverthem.Thisisnowaytogreetguests,evenonesimpoliteenoughtoarriveunannouncedataninconvenienthourofthemorning.
“Molly,”DetectiveStarksays,steppinginfrontoftheyoungofficer.“You’reunderarrestforunlawfulpossessionofafirearm,possessionofdrugs,andfirst-degreemurder.Youhavetherighttoremainsilentandtorefusetoanswerquestions.Anythingyousaymaybeusedagainstyouinacourtoflaw.Youhavetherighttoconsultanattorneybeforespeakingtothepoliceandtohaveanattorneypresentduringquestioningnoworinthefuture.”
Myheadisspinning,theflooristiltingundermyfeet.Tinyteapotsspinbeforemyeyes.“Wouldanyonelikeacupof…”ButIcan’tfinishthequestion,becausemyvisiondims.
ThelastthingIrememberismykneesturningtomarmaladeandalltheworldfadingtoblack.
WhenIcometo,I’minaholdingcell,lyingdownonatinygraycot.Iremembermyfrontdoor,openingit,andtheshockofmyrightsbeingreadtomejustlikeonTV.Wasthatreal?Isitupslowly.Itakeinthesmallroomwithbars.Yes,it’sallreal.I’minajailcell,probablyinthebasementofthesamestationI’vevisitedtwicebeforeforquestioning.
Itakeafewbreaths,willingmyselftoremaincalm.Itsmellsdryanddusty.I’mstillwearingmypajamas,whichstrikesmeasentirelyunsuitableapparelforthisparticularsituation.ThecotI’msittingonisstainedwithwhatGranwouldcall“unresolvabledirt”—smearedbloodandsomeyellowcircularstainsthatcouldbemanythingsthatIdon’twanttothinkabout.Thiscotisanexampleofaperfectlyserviceableitemthatshouldimmediatelybedisposedofbecausethereissimplynowaytorestoreittoastateofperfection.
Howsanitaryistherestofthiscell?Iwonder.Itoccurstomethatafarworsejobthanbeingahotelmaidwouldbeworkingasajanitorinsuchaplace.Imaginetheplethoraofbacteriaandfilththathasaccumulatedhereovertheyears.No,Icannotfocusonthat.
Iputmyslipperedfeetonthefloor.
Countyourblessings.
Myblessings.I’mabouttostartatnumberone,butwhenIlookdownatmyhands,Iseetheyarebesmirched.Stained.Ihavedarkblackinkmarksoneveryfinger.Itcomesbacktomethen.Lyingonthiscotinthiscramped,germ-infestedcell,twopoliceofficersguidingeachofmyfingerstowardajet-blackinkblotter.Theydidn’tevenhavethedecencytoallowmetowashmyhandsafter,thoughIdidask.AfterthatIdon’tremembermuch.PerhapsIfaintedagain.It’shardtosayhowlongagothatwas—itcouldhavebeenfiveminutesorfivehours.
BeforeIcanthinkaboutanythingelse,theyoungpoliceofficerwhowasatmydoorathomeappearsontheothersideofthecellbars.
“You’reawake,”hesays.“You’reatthepolicestation,doyouunderstand?Youpassedoutatyourfrontdoorandinheretoo.Wereadyouyourrights.You’reunderarrest.Multiplecharges.Doyouremember?”
“Yes,”Isay.Ican’trecallwhatexactlyI’vebeenarrestedfor,butIknowitmostcertainlyhastodowiththedeathofMr.Black.
DetectiveStarkappearsbesidetheyoungofficer.She’sinplainclothesnow,butthisdoesnothingtoalterthedreadIfeelthemomenthereyesmeetmine.“I’lltakeitfromhere,”shesays.“Molly,comewithme.”
Theyoungofficerturnsakeyinthecelldoorandholdsitopenforme.
“Thankyou,”IsayasIpass.
DetectiveStarkleadstheway.Behindme,theyoungofficerfollows,makingsureI’mhemmedin.I’mescorteddownahallwaywiththreeothercells.Itrynottolookinsidethem,butit’sfutile.Icatchaglimpseofasallow-facedmanwithsoresonhisface,holdingontothebarsofhiscell.Oppositehimayoungwomanintornclothingliescryinginhercot.
Countyourblessings.
Wegoupsomestairs.Iavoidtouchingtherailings,whicharecoatedwithfilthandgrime.Eventually,wearriveatafamiliarroomthatI’vevisitedtwicebefore.DetectiveStarkflicksonthelights.
“Sit,”sheorders.“You’vebeenheresooftenitmustfeellikehome.”
“It’snothinglikehome,”Isay,myvoicelikeablade,cuttingandsharp.Isitinthewobblychairbehindthedirty,whitetable,carefulnottotouchmybackagainsttherest.Myfeetarecolddespitemyfuzzyslippers.
TheyoungofficerwalksinwithacoffeeinadastardlyStyrofoamcup,twocreamers,andamuffinonapaperplate.Andametalspoon.Heputsallofthisdownonthetable,thenleaves.DetectiveStarkclosesthedoorbehindhim.
“Eat,”shesays.“Wedon’twantyoupassingoutagain.”
“That’sverythoughtful,”Ireply,becauseyou’resupposedtosaysomethingcomplimentarywhenofferedfood.Idon’tbelieveshe’sbeingauthenticallycaring,butithardlymatters.I’mravenous.Mybodycravessustenance.Ineedittocarryon,togetmethroughwhat’snext.
Ipickupthespoon,turnitoverinmyhand.There’sadriedclumpofgraymatterontheunderside.Iputitdownimmediately.
“Doyoutakecreaminyourcoffee?”DetectiveStarkasks.She’stakenaseatacrossfrommeatthetable.
“Justone,”Isay.“Thankyou.”
Shereachesoutforthecreamer,opensit,andpoursitintothecup.She’sabouttograbtherevoltingspoonandstir.
“No!”Isay.“Iprefermycoffeeunstirred.”
Shestaresatmewiththatlookofhersthatisbecomingeasierandeasiertointerpret—derisionanddisgust.ShehandsmetheStyrofoamcup.ItmakesthathorrificsqueakysoundasItakeitinmyhand.Ican’thelpbutcringe.
DetectiveStarkpushestheplatewiththemuffinclosertome.“Eat,”shesaysagain,anordernotaninvitation.
“Thankyouverymuch,”IsayasIdelicatelyprythemuffinfromthepaperlining,thenseveritintofourneatpieces.Ipoponequarterintomymouth.Raisinbran.Myfavoritekindofmuffin—denseandnutrient-rich,withrandomburstsofsweetness.It’sasifDetectiveStarkknewmypreference,thoughofcourseshedidn’t.OnlyColumbocouldhavefiguredthatout.
Iswallowandtakeacoupleofsipsofthebittercoffee.“Delightful,”Isay.
DetectiveStarkguffaws.Idobelieveitisaproperguffaw.Nootherwordwouldsuffice.Shecrossesherarms.Thiscouldmeanshe’scold,butIdoubtit.Shedistrustsme,andthefeelingisentirelymutual.
“Yourealizewe’velaidchargesagainstyou,”shesays.“Forunlawfulpossessionofafirearm,forpossessionofdrugs.Andforfirst-degreemurder.”
Inearlychokeonmynextsipofcoffee.“That’simpossible,”Isay.“Ihaveneverhurtasoulinmylife,nevermindmurderedone.”
“Look,”shesays,“webelieveyoukilledMr.Black.Oryouhadsomethingtodowithit.Oryouknowwhodid.Theautopsyreporthascomein.It’sdefinitive,Molly.Itwasn’taheartattack.Hewasasphyxiated.That’showhedied.”
Ijamanotherchunkofmuffinintomymouthandconcentrateonchewing.It’salwaysgoodtocheweverybitetentotwentytimes.Granusedtosayitaidsdigestion.Ibegincountinginmyhead.
“Howmanypillowsdoyouleaveoneverybedthatyoumakeupatthehotel?”DetectiveStarkasks.
Iknowtheanswer,obviously,butmymouthisfull.Itwouldbeimpolitetoreplyrightnow.
“Four,”thedetectivesaysbeforeI’mreadytoanswer.“Fourpillowsareoneverybed.IverifieditwithMr.Snowandsomeoftheothermaids.ButtherewereonlythreepillowsonMr.Black’sbedwhenIarrivedatthesceneofthecrime.Wheredidthefourthpillowgo,Molly?”
Six,seven,eightchews.Iswallowandamabouttospeak,butbeforeIdo,thedetectiveslamsbothhandsdownonthetablethatdividesus,whichcausesmetonearlyjumpoutofmychair.
“Molly!”shebarks.“Ijustinsinuatedthatyoumurderedamanincoldbloodwithapillow,andyou’resittingthere,mindfullyeatingamuffin.”
Ipausetoregulatemypulse,whichisracing.I’mnotusedtobeingyelledatoraccusedofheinouscrimes.Ifinditmostdisconcerting.Isipmycoffeetosettlemyjanglingnerves.ThenIspeak.“Iwillsayitinanewway,Detective.IdidnotkillMr.Black.AndImostcertainlydidn’tasphyxiatehimwithapillow.Andfortherecord,thereisnopossiblewaythatIcouldeverpossessdrugs.I’veneverseennortriedoneinmylife.Also,theykilledmymother.Andverynearlykilledmygranofabrokenheart.”
“Youliedtous,Molly.AboutyourconnectiontoGiselle.ShetoldusyouoftenhungaroundtheBlacks’suitelongafteryouweredonecleaningitandthatyouengagedinpersonalconversationswithher.ShealsosaidyoutookmoneyfromMr.Black’swallet.”
“What?That’snotwhatshemeant!Shemeanttookasinaccepted.Shegavethemoneytome.”Ilookfromthedetectivetothecamerablinkinginthecorneroftheroom.“Gisellealwaystippedmegenerouslyandfreely.ItwasshewhotookbillsfromMr.Black’swallet,notme.”
DetectiveStark’smouthisahardline.Istraightenmypajamasandsittallerinmychair.
“AftereverythingI’vesaid,that’stheonepointyouwanttoclarify?”
Thestraightanglesoftheroombegintowarpandbend.Itakeadeepbreathtosteadymyself,waitinguntilthetablehascornersinsteadofcurves.
It’stoomuchinformation.Ican’tprocessitall.Whycan’tpeoplejustsaywhattheymean?IgatherthedetectivehasspokentoGiselleagain,butit’simpossibletobelievethatGisellemisrepresentedme.Shewouldn’tdosuchathing,nottoafriend.
Atremorstartsinmyhandsandtravelsupmybody.IreachfortheStyrofoamcupandalmostspillitinmyhastetobringittomylips.
Imakeaquickdecision.“Idohaveoneclarificationtomake,”Isay.“ItistruethatGiselleconfidedinmeandthatIconsider—considered—herafriend.Iamsorryfornotmakingthisentirelycleartoyoubefore.”
DetectiveStarknods.“Notmakingthisentirelyclear?Huh.Isthereanythingelseyoudecidedto‘notmakeentirelyclear’?”
“Yes.Infactthereis.Mygranalwayssaidthatifyoudon’thaveanythingnicetosayaboutsomeone,it’sbesttosaynothingatall.WhichiswhyIsaidlittleaboutMr.Blackhimself.I’llhaveyouknowthatMr.BlackwasfarfromthefineVIPthateveryoneseemstothinkhewas.Perhapsyoushouldinvestigatehisenemies.ItoldyoubeforethatGisellewasphysicallyharmedbyhim.Hewasaverydangerousman.”
“DangerousenoughforyoutotellGisellethatshe’dbebetteroffwithouthim?”
“Inever…”ButIstoprightthere,becauseIdidsaythis.Iremembernow.Ibelieveditthen,andIbelieveitstill.
Ifillmymouthwithachunkofmuffin.It’sarelieftohavealegitimatereasonnottospeak.IreturntoGran’schewingimperative.One,two,three…
“Molly,we’vespokenwithmanyofyourcoworkers.Doyouknowhowtheydescribeyou?”
Ipausemyregimentoshakemyhead.
“Theysayyou’reawkward.Standoffish.Meticulous.Aneatfreak.Aweirdo.Andworse.”
Ireachtenchewsandswallow,butitdoesnothingtoalleviatethelumpthathasformedinmythroat.
“Doyouknowwhatelsesomeofyourcolleaguessaidaboutyou?Theysaidtheycouldtotallypictureyoumurderingsomeone.”
Cheryl,ofcourse.Onlyshewouldsaysuchaheinousthing.
“Idon’tlikespeakingillofpeople,”Ireply.“Butsinceyou’repressingme,CherylGreen,headmaid,cleanssinkswithhertoiletrag.That’snotaeuphemism.Imeanitliterally.Shecallsinsickwhenshe’swell.Shespiesintopeople’slockers.Andshestealstips.Ifshe’scapableoftheftandhygienecrimes,howlowwouldshego?”
“Howlowwouldyougo,Molly?YoustoleMr.Black’sweddingringandpawnedit.”
“What?”Isay.“Ididn’tstealit.Ifoundit.Whotoldyouthat?”
“Cherylfollowedyouallthewaytothepawnshop.Sheknewyouwereuptosomething.Wefoundtheringinthefrontwindow,Molly.Theshopkeeperdescribedyouperfectly—someonewhoblendsintothebackground,untilshespeaks.Thekindofpersonyou’deasilyforgetaboutundermostcircumstances.”
Mypulseispounding.Ican’tkeepmymindfocused.Thisdoesn’treflectwellonmycharacterandImustmakeamends.
“Ishouldnothavepawnedthatring,”Isay.“Iappliedthewrongruleinmyhead,‘thefinders-keepersrule,’whenIshouldhaveappliedthe‘dountoothers’rule.Iregretthatchoice,butitdoesn’tmakemeathief.”
“You’vestolenotherthings,”shesays.
“Ihavenot,”Isay,punctuatingmydisdainwithcrossedarms,aposturalsignalofindignance.
“Mr.Snowhasseenyoustealingfoodfromdiscardedtrays.Andsmallpotsofjam.”
Ifeelthefloorofmystomachdropoutfromundermethewayitdoeswhentheelevatoratthehotelisabouttogoonthefritz.I’mnotsurewhat’smorehumiliating—thatMr.Snowsawmedothisorthatheneversaidawordtomeaboutit.
“Heistellingthetruth,”Iadmit.“Ihaveliberateddiscardedfood,foodthatwouldhaveendedupinthetrashbinanyway.Thisis‘wastenot,wantnot.’Itisnottheft.”
“It’sallamatterofdegrees,Molly.Oneofyourcolleagues,afellowmaid,saidsheworriesthatyoucan’tspotdanger.”
“Sunitha,”Isay.“Fortherecord,she’sanexcellentmaid.”
“It’snotherrecordthat’sonthelinehere.”
“DidyouspeakwithMr.Preston?”Iask.“Hewillvouchforme.”
“Wedidspeaktothedoorman,actually.Hesaidyouwere‘blameless’—interestingchoiceofwords—andthatweshoulddigfordirtelsewhere.HementionedBlack’sfamilymembers,aswellassomestrangecharacterscomingandgoingatnight.Butitwaslikehewasgoingoutofhiswaytoprotectyou,Molly.Heknowssomethingisn’trightinthestateofDenmark.”
“WhatdoesDenmarkhavetodowithanyofthis?”Iask.
DetectiveStarksighsloudly.“Bloodyhell.It’sgoingtobealongday.”
“AndJuanManuel,thedishwasher?”Iask.“Didyoutalktohim?”
“Whywouldwetalktoadishwasher,Molly?Whoishe,anyhow?”
Asontoamother,aprovidertoafamily,anotherinvisibleworkerbeeinthehive.ButIdecidenottopressfurther.ThelastthingIwantisforhimtobeintrouble.Instead,InametheonepersonwhoI’mcertainwouldvouchformyreliability.“HaveyouspokenwithRodney,thebartenderattheSocial?”
“Asamatteroffact,Ihave.Hesaidhethoughtyouwere—quoteunquote—‘morethancapableofmurder.’?”
Alloftheenergythathaskeptmyspineuprightdissipatesinaninstant.Islumpoverandlookdownatmyhandsinmylap.Amaid’shands.Workinghands.Chaffedanddry,despiteallthelotionIputonthem,thenailscutcleanlyshort,callusesonthepalms.ThehandsofamucholderwomanthanIactuallyam.Whowouldwantthesehandsandthebodyattachedtothem?HowcouldIeverthinkthatRodneywould?
IfIlookupatDetectiveStarknow,Iknowthetearswillspillfrommyeyes,soIconcentrateonthecheerylittleteapotsonmypajamas—vibrantpink,babyblue,anddaffodilyellow.
Whenthedetectivespeaks,hervoiceissofterthanbefore.“YourfingerprintswereallovertheBlacks’suite.”
“Ofcoursetheywere,”Isay.“Icleanedthatsuiteeveryday.”
“AnddidyoualsocleanMr.Black’sneck?Becausetracesofyourcleaningsolutionwerefoundtheretoo.”
“BecauseIcheckedhispulsebeforecallingforhelp!”
“Youhadvariousplansforkillinghim,Molly,sowhyintheenddidyouchooseasphyxiationratherthanthegun?Didyoureallythinkyouwouldn’tgetcaught?”
Iwillnotlookup.Iwillnot.
“Wefoundtheweaponinyourvacuumcleaner.”
Ifeelmyinsidestwisting,thedragonslashingandgnashing.“Whatwereyoudoingmeddlingwithmyvacuumcleaner?”
“Whatwereyoudoinghidingaguninit,Molly?”
Mypulseispounding.TheonlyotherpersonwhoknewaboutboththeringandthegunwasRodney.Ican’tdoit.Ican’tassemblethepiecesinmymind.
“Wetestedyourhousekeepingcart,”DetectiveStarksays.“Andittestedpositivefortracesofcocaine.Weknowyou’renotthekingpinhere,Molly.You’resimplynotsmartenoughforthat.WebelievethatGiselleintroducedyoutoMr.Black,andthatshegroomedyoutoworkforherhusband.WebelieveyouandMr.Blackwerewellacquainted,andthatyouwerehelpinghimhidethelucrativedrugoperationhewasrunningthroughthehotel.Somethingmusthavegonewrongbetweenthetwoofyou.Maybeyougotangrywithhimandyouretaliatedbytakinghislife.OrmaybeyouwerehelpingGisellegetoutofabadsituation.Eitherway,youwereinvolved.
“SoasIsaid,thiscangooneoftwoways.Youcanpleadguiltyimmediatelytoallcharges,includingfirst-degreemurder.Thejudgewilltakeyourswiftguiltypleaandconfessionintoconsideration.Anearlydemonstrationofregret,plusanyinformationyoucanprovideaboutthedrug-runninghappeninginthishotel,couldgoalongwayinlighteningyoursentence.”
Theteapotsdancearoundinmylap.Thedetectiveisdroningon,buthervoicesoundstinny,fartherandfartheraway.
“Orwecandothisthelongandslowway.Wecangathermoreevidence,andwecanendupincourt.Eitherway,MollytheMaid,thejigisup.Sowhatdoyouchoose?”
IknowI’mnotthinkingstraight.AndIdon’tknowtheproperrulesofetiquettewhenoneisaccusedofmurder.Outofnowhere,IrememberColumbo
“Youreadmemyrightsearlier,”Isay.“Atthedoorofmyhome.YousaidIhavetherighttoconsultanattorney.IfIhireone,doIhavetopayimmediately?”
DetectiveStarkrollshereyes—exasperationwritsolargethatIcan’tmissit.“Lawyersgenerallydon’texpectcashonthespot,”shesays.
Iholdmyheadupandlookstraightather.
“Inthatcase,I’dlikeonephonecall,please.Idemandtospeaktoalawyer.”
DetectiveStarkpushesbackherchair.Itmakesanaggravatingnoise.I’mcertainshe’sjustaddedtotheplethoraofunsightlyscuffmarksalreadyonthefloor.Sheopensthedooroftheinterrogationroomandsayssomethingtotheyoungpoliceofficerstandingguardoutside.Hefishesacellphonefromhisbackpocketandhandsittoher.It’smycellphone.Whatishedoingwithmycellphone?
“Here,”thedetectivesays.Shedropsmyphoneonthetablewithaclunk.
“Youtookmyphone,”Isay.“Whogaveyoutheright?”
DetectiveStark’seyesgowide.“Youdid,”shesays.“Afteryoufaintedinthecell,youinsistedthatwetakeyourphoneincaseyouneededitlatertocallafriend.”
ThetruthisthatIdon’tremember,butsomethingvaguenigglesatthebackofmyconsciousness.
“Thankyouverymuch,”Isay.IpickupmyphoneandpressContacts.Isearchalleightentries—Giselle,Gran,CherylGreen,OliveGarden,Mr.Preston,Rodney,Mr.Rosso,Mr.Snow.Iconsiderwhoistrulyonmyside—andwhomightnotbe.Thenamesswirlbeforemyeyes.IwaituntilIcanseeclearly.ThenIchooseanddial.Ihearitringing.Someonepicksup.
“Mr.Preston?”Isay.
“Molly?Areyouallright?”
“Pleasepardonmefortroublingyouatsuchaninconvenienthour.You’reprobablygettingreadyforwork.”
“Notnow.I’mworkingthelateshifttoday.Deargirl,what’sgoingon?”
Ilookaroundtheplainwhiteroomwiththefluorescentlightsbeatingdownonme.DetectiveStarkeyesmewithherice-glazedstare.“Thetruthis,Mr.Preston,I’mnotquiteallright.I’vebeenarrestedformurder.Andmore.I’mbeingheldatthestationnearestthehotel.AndI…Ihatetosaythis,butIcouldreallyuseyourhelp.”
OnceIfinishmycalltoMr.Preston,DetectiveStarkholdsoutherhand.Intruth,Idonotknowwhatfor,soIgrabmyemptyStyrofoamcupandpassittoher,thinkingwearefinishedandthatshe’scleaningthetable.
“Areyoukiddingme?”shesays.“NowyouthinkI’myourmaid?”
Imostcertainlydonot.Ifshewereanywherenearahalf-decentmaid,thisroomwouldnotlookasitdoes—scuffedandscratched,stainedandsmeared.IfIhadsomuchasanapkinandabottleofwater,Icouldbidemytimecleaningupthispigpen.
DetectiveStarktakesmyphonefrommyhand.
“WillIgetthatback?IhaveessentialcontactsthatI’dhatetolose.”
“You’llgetitback,”shesays.“Someday.”Shelooksatherwatch.“So,isthereanythingelseyou’dliketosay,whilewe’rewaitingforyourlawyer?”
“Myapologies,Detective.Pleasedon’ttakemysilencepersonally.Firstoff,I’veneverbeenverygiftedwithsmalltalkandwhenI’mforcedtomakeit,Ioftensaythewrongthing.Second,I’mawareofmyrighttoremainsilentandsoI’llbeginemployingitimmediately.”
“Fine,”shesays.“Haveityourway.”
Afterwhatseemslikeanunholyeternity,there’saloudknockonthedoor.
“Thisshouldbeinteresting,”DetectiveStarksays,risingfromherchairandopeningthedoor.
It’sMr.Preston,inciviliandress.I’verarelyseenhimoutofhisdoorman’scapandcoat.He’swearingaperfectlypressedblueshirtanddarkjeans.There’sawomanwithhimdressedmuchmoreformallyinatailorednavysuit,carryingablackleatherbriefcase.Hershort,curlyhairisperfectlycoiffed.Herdark-browneyesimmediatelygiveawaywhosheisbecausethey’resomuchlikeherfather’s.
Istandtogreetthem.“Mr.Preston,”Isay,barelyabletocontainmyreliefatseeingthem.Imoveabittooquicklyandhitmyhipboneonthetable.Itsmarts,butitdoesn’tstopthesurgeofwordsthatflowsfrommymouth.“I’msogladyou’rehere.Thankyousomuchforcoming.It’sjustthatI’vebeenaccusedofsometerriblethings.I’veneverharmedanyone,nevertouchedadruginmylife,andtheonlytimeI’veeverheldaweaponwas—”
“Molly,I’mCharlotte,”Mr.Preston’sdaughtersays,interruptingme.“It’smyprofessionaladvicethatyouremainsilentatthistime.Oh.Andit’sverynicetomeetyou.Mydadhastoldmealotaboutyou.”
“Oneofyoubetterbeanattorney,orI’mgoingtoloseit,”DetectiveStarksays.
Charlottestepsforward,hersharpheelsclackingloudlyonthecold,industrialfloor.“Thatwouldbeme,CharlottePreston,ofBillings,Preston&García,”shesays,flickingabusinesscardtothedetective.
“Deargirl,”Mr.Prestonsaystome.“We’reherenow,sodon’tyouworryaboutathing.Thisisalljustabig—”
“Dad,”Charlottesays.
“Sorry,sorry,”hereplies,andzipshismouthshut.
“Molly,doyouagreetoberepresentedbyme?”
Idon’tsayaword.
“Molly?”sheprods.
“Youinstructedmenottospeak.ShouldIspeaknow?”
“Myapologies.Iwasn’tclear.Youcanspeak,justnotanythingrelatingtothechargeslain.Letmeaskyouagain:doyouagreetoberepresentedbyme?”
“Ohyes,thatwouldbemosthelpful,”Isay.“Canwediscussapaymentplanatamoreconvenienttime?”
Mr.Prestoncoughsintohishand.
“I’dofferyouatissue,Mr.Preston,butI’mafraidIdon’thaveoneonme.”IeyeDetectiveStark,whoisshakingherhead.
“Pleasedon’tworryaboutpaymentrightnow.Let’sjustconcentrateongettingyououtofhere,”Charlottesays.
“Yourealizethattoreleaseheryou’vegottopostbailof$800,000.Now,letmesee…”DetectiveStarksaysassheputsherindexfingertoherlips,“Ithinkthat’sjustaspotaboveamaid’searningsandassets,amIright?”
“You’reright,Detective,”Charlottesays.“Maidsanddoormenareoftenunderpaidandundervalued.Butlitigators?Wedoallright.Betterthandetectives,soI’mtold.I’vepersonallypostedbailwiththeclerkoutfront.”ShesmilesatDetectiveStark.Icansaywithonehundredpercentcertaintythatit’snotafriendlysmile.
Charlotteturnstome.“Molly,”shesays.“I’vearrangedforyoutohaveabailhearinglaterthismorning.I’mnotallowedtorepresentyouthere,butI’vefiledsomelettersalreadyonyourbehalf.”
“Letters?”Iask.
“Yes,frommyfather,whohasprovidedacharacterstatement,andfromme,sayingI’llpostyourbail.Ifallgoeswell,you’llbereleasedthisafternoon.”
“Really?”Iask.“Isitthatsimple?I’llbereleasedandthiswillbeover?”IlookfromhertoMr.Preston.
“Hardly,”DetectiveStarksays.“Eveniftheygetyouoffnow,you’llstillhavetostandtrial.It’snotlikewe’redroppingthecharges.”
“Isthatyourphone?”Charlotteasksme.
“Yes,”Isay.
“You’llmakesureit’skeptlockedandsafesomewhere,right,Detective?Youwon’tbeloggingthatasevidence.”
DetectiveStarkpauses.Herhandisonherhip.“It’snotmyfirstrodeo,cowgirl.I’vegotherhousekeys,too,bytheway,whichsheinsistedIkeepaftershepassedout.”Thedetectivefishesmykeysfromherpocketanddropsthemonthetable.IfIhadanantisepticwipe,I’dsnatchthemupandimmediatelydisinfectthem.
“Great,”Charlottesays,pickingupmykeysandphone.“We’lltalktoyourclerkoutfrontandmakesuretheylogtheseaspersonalpossessions,notevidence.”
“Fine,”saysDetectiveStark.
Mr.Prestonislookingdownatme,hiseyebrowscrinklingtogether.Itmaybethathe’sconcentratinghard,butIthinkit’smorelikelythathe’sconcerned.
“Don’tworry,”hesays.“We’llbewaitingforyouafterthehearing.”
“Seeyouontheotherside,”Charlotteadds.Andwiththat,theyturnandleave.
Oncethey’regone,DetectiveStarkjuststandsthere,armscrossed,glaringatme.
“Whathappensnow?”Iask.I’mfindingithardtobreathe.
“Youandyourteapotsgobacktoyourcharmingholdingcellandwaitpatientlyforyourhearing,”DetectiveStarkreplies.
Istandandstraightenmypajamas.Theyoungofficeroutsideisreadytoescortmebacktotherepugnantcell.
“Thankyouverymuch,”IsaytothedetectivebeforeIexit.
“Thankyouforwhat?”sheasks.
“Forthemuffinandthecoffee.Idohopeyouhaveamorepleasantmorningthanmine.”
Itfeelsawfullystrangetobewearingpajamasintheafternoon,anditfeelsparticularlyunnervingtobeinacourthousewearingsuchwhollyinappropriateattire.OneofDetectiveStark’spoliceofficerskindlydrovemetothiscourthouseaboutanhourago,andnowI’mseatedinacrampedofficeonthepremiseswithaveryyoungmanwhowillserveasmyattorneyinthebailhearing.Heaskedmemyname,reviewedthechargesagainstme,toldmewe’dbecalledintothecourtroomwhenthejudgewasready,andthenclaimedhehadsomeemailstoread.Hetookouthisphoneandhasbeengivingithisfullestattentionforatleastfiveminutes.IhavenoideawhatI’msupposedtodointhemeantime.Nomatter.Thisallowsmetimetocollectmyself.
IknowfromTVthatastheaccused,Ishouldbewearingacleanblouse,buttonedtotheneck,andformaldressslacks.Imostcertainlyshouldnotbewearingpajamas.
“Excuseme,”Isaytotheyoungattorney.“Woulditbepossibletogohomeandchangebeforethehearing?”
Hisfacescrunchesup.“Youcan’tbeserious,”hereplies.“Doyouknowhowluckyyouaretobeseentoday?”
“Iamserious,”Isay.“Quite.”
Heputshisphoneinhisbreastpocket.“Wow.DoIhavesomenewsforyou.”
“Excellent.Pleaseshareit,posthaste,”Ireply.
Buthedoesn’tutteraword.Hejuststaresatmewithhismouthopen,whichsurelymeansI’vemadesomeblunder,butwhatitisIdonotknow.
Momentslater,heproceedstofirequestionsmyway.“Haveyoueverdonejailtime?”
“Notuntilthismorning,”Isay.
“Thatwasn’tjail,”hesays.“Jail’swayworsethanthat.Doyouhaveacriminalrecord?”
“Myrecordissqueakyclean,thankyouverymuch.”
“Doyouharborplansofleavingthecountry?”
“Oh,yes.I’dlovetovisittheCaymanIslandssomeday.I’veheardit’slovely.Haveyoubeen?”
“Justtellthejudgeyouhavenoplansofleavingthecountry,”hesays.
“Asyouwish.”
“Thehearingwon’ttakelong.They’reprettystandard,evenincriminalcaseslikeyours.I’lltrytogetyoufreeonbail.I’massumingthatlikeeveryoneelsewho’severbeenaccused,you’renotguiltyandyouwantoutonbailbecauseyou’rethesolecaregiverforyourpoor,sickgrandmother,right?”
“Iwas.Butnotanymore,”Isay.“She’sdead.AndI’mnotguiltyonanyofthecharges,ofcourse.”
“Right.Ofcourse,”hereplies.
I’mgratefulforhisinstantvoteofconfidence.
I’mabouttogetintothedetailsofmycompleteinnocence,buthisphonebuzzesinhispocket.“We’reup,”hesays.“Let’sgo.”
Heleadsmeoutofthesmalloffice,downahallway,andintoamuchlargerroomwithbenchesonbothsidesandawideaisleinthemiddle.I’mwalkingdowntheaislewithhimtothefrontofthecourtroom.Foramoment,Iimagineasimilarroomwithasimilaraisle,withthebigdifferencethatinmyimagination,I’mwalkingdowntheaisleasabride-to-beandthemanbesidemeisnotthisstrangeratallbutamanveryknowntome.
Myflightoffancyisrudelyinterruptedwhenmyyoungattorneysays,“Takeaseat,”andpointstoachairinfrontofatabletotherightofthejudge.
AsIsit,DetectiveStarkwalksintocourtandseatsherselfatanidenticalchairinfrontofanidenticaltableacrossthechasmoftheaisle.
Ifeelmyjittersreturn.Iclaspmyhandstightlyinmylaptoquellmytrembling.
Someonesays,“Allrise,”andIfeeltheyoungattorney’shandonmyelbowguidingmetomyfeet.
Thepresidingjudgeemergesfromadooratthebackofthecourtandplodstohishighbench,sittingdowninfrontofitwithanaudiblegroan.IdonotmeanitunkindlywhenIsaythatheremindsmeofaBrazilianhornedfrog.GranandIwatchedatremendousdocumentaryabouttheAmazonrainforestandtheBrazilianhornedfrog.Suchauniquecreature.Ithasalong,downturnedmouthandprotuberanteyebrows,muchlikethejudgebeforeme.
Theproceedingsbeginimmediately,withthejudgeaskingDetectiveStarktospeak.Shepresentsthechargesagainstme.ShesaysmanythingsabouttheBlackcaseandaboutmyinvolvementinit.ShemakesitseemlikeI’mnotareliableperson.Butit’stheendofherdiatribethatstingsthemost.
“YourHonor,”shesays,“thechargesagainstMollyGrayareveryserious.AndwhileI’mawarethattheaccusedbeforeyoupresentsasapictureofinnocenceandnotaflightriskatall,shehasprovenherselfunreliable.MuchliketheRegencyGrandHotelwheresheworks,whichbyallappearancesisafine,upstandinghotel,themoreweprobeintothelifeofMollyandherworkplace,themoredirtweuncover.”
IfIcouldanditweremyplacetodoso,I’dbangagavelandyell,“Objection!”justliketheydoonTV.
Thejudgedoesn’tmoveatall,buthedoesinterrupt.“DetectiveStark,mayIremindyouthatthehotelisnotthesubjectofthishearing,norcanahotelstandtrial.Canyoupleasegettothepoint?”
DetectiveStarkclearsherthroat.“Thepointisthatwe’rebeginningtoquestionthenatureoftheconnectionbetweenMollyGrayandMr.Black.We’vegatheredsignificantevidenceofillegalactivitybetweenMr.Blackandtheseeminglyinnocentyounghotelmaidyouseebeforeyou.I’mdeeplyconcernedabouthermoralintegrityandherabilitytoabidebytheruleoflaw.Inotherwords,YourHonor,thisisaprimeexampleofappearancesbeingdeceiving.”
Ifindthisincrediblyinsulting.Imayhavemyfaults,butit’sbalderdashandpoppycocktosuggestthatIdon’tfollowrules.I’vedevotedmyentirelifetojustthat,evenwhentherulesareentirelyunsuitedtomyconstitution.
Theyoungattorneyisdirectedtospeakonmybehalf.Hetalksquicklyandflailshisarmsdramatically.HeexplainstothejudgethatIhaveasqueaky-cleancriminalrecord,thatIleadawoefullyuneventfullife,amgainfullyemployedinamenialpositionofferingzeroflightrisk,thatIhaveneverinallmyyearsleftthecountryandhaveoccupiedthesameaddressfortwenty-fiveyears—ergo,myentirelife.
Inclosing,heposesaquestion.“Doesthisyoungwomanreallyfittheprofileforadangerouscriminalandarunner?Imean,really.Takeagoodlookatwhoyouhaveinfrontofyou.Somethingdoesn’taddup.”
Thejudge’sfroglikejowlsarerestingonhishands.Hiseyesaredroopyandhalf-closed.“Who’spostingbail?”heasks.
“Anacquaintanceoftheaccused,”theyoungattorneyanswers.
Thejudgechecksapaperinfrontofhim.“CharlottePreston?”Thejudge’seyesopenslightlyandfallonme.“Friendsinhighplaces,Isee,”hesays.
“Notusually,YourHonor,”Ianswer.“Butlately,yes.Also,Iwishtoapologizeformywhollyinappropriateattire.Iwasarrestedatmyfrontdoorataninopportunehouroftheearlymorningandwasnotaffordedachancetodressinarespectfulmannerthatbefitsyourcourt.”
Idon’tknowifIwassupposedtospeak,butit’stoolatenow.Myyoungattorney’smouthiswideopen,buthe’sgivingmenocluesastowhatIshoulddoorsay.
Afterasizablepause,thejudgespeaks.“Wewon’tjudgeyouonthebasisofyourteapots,Ms.Gray,butonyourpropensitytoobeytherulesandtostayput.”Hisimpressiveeyebrowsundulatetoaccentuatehiswords.
“That’swelcomenews,YourHonor.I’mactuallyquitegiftedwhenitcomestoobeyingrules.”
“Goodtoknow,”hereplies.
Theyoungattorneyremainscompletelyquiet.Sincehe’snotventuringawordinmydefense,Icarryon.“YourHonor,Iconsidermyselfmostfortunatetohavemadeacoupleoffriendsseveralrungsabovemystation,butI’mjustamaid,yousee.Ahotelmaid.Awronglyaccusedone.”
“You’renotstandingtrialtoday,Ms.Gray.Youunderstandthatifwegrantyoubail,yourmovementswillberestricted.Home,work,andthecityonly.”
“Thataccuratelysummarizesmycircumnavigationsuptothispointinmylife,YourHonor,minustravelandnaturedocumentariesonTV,whichI’massumingdon’tcountsincetheyoccurfromtherelativecomfortofanarmchair.Ihavenointentionnorfinancialabilitytoexpandmygeographicreach,norwouldIknowhowtogoabouttravelallonmyown.I’dbeworriedIwouldn’tknowtherulesinaforeignplaceandthatI’dmakean…well,afoolofmyself.”Ipause,thenrealizemyfauxpas.“YourHonor,”Iaddhastily,withaquickcurtsy.
Onesideofthejudge’slong,amphibiousmouthcurlsupintosomethingresemblingasmile.“I’dhateforanyoneheretodaytobemakingafoolofthemselves,”thejudgesays,thenhelooksatDetectiveStark,whoforthefirsttimeintheproceedingsdoesnotmeethiseye.
“Ms.Gray,”thejudgepronounces,“Iherebygrantyouyourconditionalbail.You’refreetogo.”
Atlonglast,aftermanyformsandformalities,IfindmyselfsinkingintotheplushleatherbackseatofCharlottePreston’sluxurycar.OnceIleftthecourthouse,IwaspassedofftoaclerkwhosaidsheknewCharlottewellandwouldbringmesafelytoher.Sheescortedmetoabackdoor,whereMr.Prestonandhisdaughter,astheyhadpromised,werewaitingforme.Theywhiskedmeawayinthiscar.Iamfree,fornowatleast.
ThedashboardofCharlotte’scartellsmeit’soneP.M.IbelievethisvehicleisaMercedes,butgiventhatI’veneverownedacarmyselfandonlyrideinthemonrareoccasions,I’mnotuponthefinerbrands.Mr.PrestonsitsinthepassengerseatwhileCharlottedrives.
I’mtremendouslygratefultobeinthiscarratherthanincourtorinthefilthybasementholdingcellinthepolicestation.IsupposeIshouldfocusonthebrightsideratherthanontheunpleasantness.Thisdayhasaffordedmemanynewexperiences,andGranusedtosaythatnewexperiencesopendoorsthatleadtopersonalgrowth.I’mnotsurethatI’veenjoyedthedoorsthathaveopenedtoday,northeexperiencesI’vehad,butIdohopetheyleadtopersonalgrowthinthelongrun.
“Dad,youhaveMolly’sphoneandkeys,right?”
“Oh,yes,”Mr.Prestonsays.“Thankyouforremindingme.”Heremovesthemfromhispocketandpassesthembacktome.
“Thankyou,Mr.Preston,”Isay.
Onlythendoesitoccurtome.“MayIaskwherewe’regoing?”
“Toyourhome,Molly,”Charlottesaid.“We’regoingtotakeyouhome.”
Mr.Prestonturnsaroundinthepassengerseattomeetmyeye.“Now,don’tyouworry,Molly,”hesays.“Charlotte’sgoingtohelpyouout,probono,andwewon’tstopuntileverything’sbacktonormal,tickety-boo.”
“Butwhataboutthebail?”Iask.“Idon’thaveanywherenearthatkindofmoney.”
“That’sokay,Molly,”Charlottesays,nevertakinghereyesofftheroad.“Idon’tactuallyhavetopaythat,onlyifyourunaway.”
“Well,I’mnotabouttodothat,”Isay,leaningintothespacebetweenthetwofrontseats.
“SoundslikeoldJudgeWightfiguredthatoutfairlyquickly,orsoI’mtold,”Charlottesays.
“Howdidyouhearthatsofast?”Mr.Prestonasks.
“Theclerks,theassistants,thecourtreporters.Peopletalk.Treatthemwellandtheygiveyoutheinsidescoop.Mostattorneyswalkalloverthem,though.”
“Thewayoftheworld,”Mr.Prestonsays.
“I’mafraidso.TheyalsosaidJudgeWightwasinnorushtoreleaseMolly’snametothepress.SoundstomelikeheknowsStark’schasingthewrongfox.”
“Idon’tknowhowanyofthiscouldhavehappened,”Isay.“I’mjustamaid,tryingtodomyjobtothebestofmyabilities.I’m…I’mnotguiltyofanyofthesecharges.”
“Weknowthat,Molly,”Mr.Prestonsays.
“Sometimeslifeisn’tfair,”Charlotteadds.“Andifthere’sonethingI’velearnedoveryearsofpractice,it’sthatthere’snoshortageofcriminalsouttherewhowillpreyonaperson’sdifferencefortheirpersonalgain.”
Mr.Prestonturnsaroundinhisseatagaintolookatme.Deepwrinkleshaveemergedonhisforehead.
“Lifemustbehardwithoutyourgran,”hesays.“Iknowyoureliedonheralot.Youknow,sheaskedmetolookoutforyou,beforeshepassed.”
“Didshe?”Isay.HowIwishshewerehere.Ilookoutthewindowthroughthetearsthathaveformedinmyeyes.“Thankyou.Forlookingoutforme,”Isay.
“That’squiteallright,”Mr.Prestonreplies.
Mybuildingcomesintoview,andI’mfairlycertainthatI’veneverbeenhappiertoseeit.
“Doyouthinkit’sappropriateformetogotoworktodayasusual,Mr.Preston?”
Charlotteturnstoherdad,thenlooksbacktotheroadahead.
“I’mafraidnot,Molly.Itwillbeexpectedthatyoutakesometimeoff,”Mr.Prestonsays.
“WoulditnotbecorrecttocallMr.Snow?”
“No,notinthiscase.It’sbestrightnownottocontactanyoneatthehotel.”
“There’svisitors’parkingatthebackofmybuilding,”Isay.“I’veneverusedit,asthevisitorsGranandIusedtoreceiveweremostlyGran’sfriendsandnoneofthemhadvehicles.”
“Doyoukeepintouchwiththem?”Charlotteasksassheturnsintoafreespot
“No,”Ireply.“NotsinceGrandied.”
Oncewe’reparked,wegetoutofthecarandIleadthewayintothebuilding.“Thisway,”Isay,pointingtothestairwell.
“Noelevator?”Charlotteasks.
“I’mafraidnot,”Ireply.
WeclimbsilentlytomyfloorandarewalkingdownthehalltowardmyapartmentwhenMr.Rossoemergesfromhis.
“You!”hesays,pointingaplumpindexfingeratme.“Youbroughtthepoliceintothisbuilding!Theyarrestedyou!Molly,you’renogood,andyoucan’tlivehereanymore.I’mevictingyou,youhearme?”
BeforeIcananswer,Ifeelahandonmyarm.CharlottestepspastmeandstandsafewinchesfromMr.Rosso’sface.
“You’retheslumlord—Imeanlandlord—Isuppose?”
Mr.RossopoutsthewayhealwaysdoeswhenItellhimI’mgoingtobeabitlatewiththerent.
“Iamthelandlord,”hesays.“Whothehellareyou?”
“I’mMolly’slawyer,”Charlottereplies.“Youdorealizethatthisbuildingisinviolationofmorethanafewcodesandbylaws,right?Crackedfiredoor,parkingtootightlyspaced.Andanyresidentialbuildingoverfivestorieshastohaveaworkingelevator.”
“Tooexpensive,”Mr.Rossosays.
“I’msurecityinspectorshaveheardthatexcusebefore.Letmeofferyousomefreelegaladvice.What’syournameagain?”
“It’sMr.Rosso,”Iofferhelpfully.
“Thankyou,Molly,”Charlottereplies.“I’llrememberthat.”Sheturnsbacktohim.“Sothefreeadviceis:don’tthinkaboutmyclient,don’ttalkaboutmyclient,don’tharassorthreatenmyclientwithevictionoranythingelse.Untilyouheardifferentlyfromme,she’sgotarighttobehere,thesameasanyoneelse.Yougotit?Clear?”
Mr.Rosso’sfacehasturnedbrightred.Iexpecthimtospeak,butsurprisingly,hedoesnot.Hemerelynods,thenbacksawayintohisapartment,quietlyclosingthedoorbehindhim.
Mr.PrestonsmilesatCharlotte.“That’smygirl,”hesays.
Ifumbleformykeysandunlockmyapartmentdoor.
OneofthegreatvirtuesofGran’sdailycleaningregimenisthattheapartmentisinaperpetuallysuitablestatetoreceiveunexpectedvisitors,notthatIusuallyreceiveany.BesidestheunwantedvisitfrompoliceearliertodayandtheshockingvisitfromGiselleonTuesday,thisisoneofthefewtimesI’mabletoreapthebenefitsofthisadvantage.
“Pleasecomein,”Isay,directingCharlotteandMr.Prestonthroughmyfrontdoor.Idon’ttakethepolishingclothoutofmyclosetbecauseI’mstillinslippersandtheyhavespongybottomsthatcan’teffectivelybewiped.Instead,Igrabaplasticbagfromtheclosetandwrapmyslippersinit,TBSL—ToBeSanitizedLater.Mr.PrestonandCharlotteelecttokeeptheirshoeson,whichisfinebymegivenhowgratefulIamtothematthisparticularjunctureintime.
“MayItakeyourbag?”IaskCharlotte.“Theclosetsaresmall,butI’mabitofawizardwhenitcomestospatialorganization.”
“Actually,I’mgoingtoneedit,”shesays.“Totakenotes.”
“Ofcourse,”Isay,thoughIfeelthefloorstiltundermeasIrealizewhatshe’shereforandwhat’sabouttohappennext.UptonowI’vebeenconcentratingonthenewdelightofhavingpeople—friendlypeople,helpfulpeople—inmyenvirons.I’vetriedtoignorethefactthatverysoon,I’llhavetothinkmoredeeplyaboutallthathashappenedtometodayandleadinguptotoday.I’llhavetosharedetailsandrecountthingsIdon’tactuallywanttothinkabout.I’llhavetoexplainallthathasgonewrong.I’llhavetochoosewhattosay.
NosoonerhaveIhadthesethoughtsthanIvisiblybegintoshake.
“Molly,”Mr.Prestonsays,puttingahandonmyshoulder.“WoulditbeallrightifIwentintothekitchenandpreparedusallapotoftea?Charlottewilltellyou,I’mverygoodatit,forabigoldlug,anyhow.”
Charlottestrollsintothelivingroom.“Hemakesameancuppa,mydaddydoes,”shesays.“Leavethattohim,andyoucangofreshenup,Molly.I’msureyou’reeagertochange.”
“Imostcertainlyam,”Isay,lookingdownatmypajamas.“Iwon’ttakelong.”
“There’snorush.We’llbeherewhenyou’reready.”
IcanhearMr.PrestonclangingaroundinthekitchenandhummingtohimselfwhileI’mouthereinthehall.Thisismostcertainlyabreachofproperetiquette.TheguestsshouldbeseatedcomfortablyinthesittingroomandIshouldbetendingtothem,nottheotherwayaround.Andyet,thetruthofthematteris,Ican’tfollowprotocolsinthisverymoment.Icanbarelythinkstraight.Mynervesaretoofrayed.WhileIstand,immobilizedinmyownhallway,CharlottejoinsMr.Prestoninmykitchen.Theychatterbackandforthtoeachother,liketwobirdsonawire.It’sthemostpleasingsound,likesunshineandhope,andforamomentIwonderwhatitisIhavedonetodeservethegoodfortuneofhavingthembothhere.MylegsgraduallyregainmobilityandIwalkovertothekitchenandstandinthethreshold.“Thankyou,”Isay.“Ican’tthankyouenoughfor—”
Mr.Prestoninterruptsme.“Sugarbowl?Iknowitmustbeheresomewhere.”
“Inthecupboardbesidethestove.Firstshelf,”Isay.
“Offyougothen.Leavetheresttous.”
Iturnandheadtothebathroom,whereIshowerquickly,gratefulthatthere’sproperhotwatertodayandrelievedtoscrubthesourfilthofthestationandcourtoffmyskin.Ienterthelivingroomafewminuteslaterinawhite,buttoned-downblouseanddarkslacks.I’mfeelingquitealotbetter.
Mr.PrestonisseatedonthesofaandCharlotteissittingacrossfromhimonachairshe’sbroughtfromthekitchen.He’sfoundGran’sbeautifulsilverservingtrayinthecupboard,theoneweboughtforamosteconomicalsumatathriftstoresolongago.It’ssostrangetoseeitinhislarge,masculinehands.Thefullteaserviceisexpertlyarrangedonthetableinfrontofthesofa.
“Wheredidyoulearntoserveapropertea,Mr.Preston?”
“Iwasn’talwaysadoorman,youknow.Ihadtoworkmywayuptothat,”hesays.“Andtothink,Inowhaveadaughterwho’salawyer.”Hiseyescrinkleupashelooksuponhisdaughter.It’salookthatremindsmesomuchofgran,Iwanttocry.
“ShallIpouryouacup?”Mr.Prestonasksme.Hedoesn’twaitforananswer.“Onelumportwo?”
“It’satwosortofday,”Isay.
“Everydayisatwosortofdayforme,”hesays.“IneedallthesweetnessIcanget.”
Truthfully,sodoI.IneedthesugarbecauseI’mfeelingatadfaintagain.I’vehadnothingtoeatsincetheraisin-branmuffininthestationthismorning.Idon’thaveenoughfoodinmycupboardstoservethreepeopleandeatingonmyownwouldbetheverypinnacleofimpropriety.
“Dad,you’vegottocutbackonsugar,”Charlottesays,shakingherhead.“Youknowit’snotgoodforyou.”
“Ahwell,”hereplies.“Hardtoteachanolddognewtricksandall,right,Molly?”Hepatshisbellyandchuckles.
Charlotteputsherteacuponthetable.Shepicksuptheyellowpadofpaperandasleekgoldpenshe’splacedonthefloorbesideherchair.“So,Molly.Haveaseat.Areyoureadytotalk?I’llneedyoutotellmeeverythingyouknowabouttheBlacksandwhyyouthinkyoustandaccusedof…well,manythings.”
“Wronglyaccused,”IsayasItakeaseatbesideMr.Preston.
“That’sagiven,Molly,”Charlottereplies.“I’msorryIdidn’tmakethatimmediatelyclear.MyfatherandIwouldn’tbehereifwedidn’tbelievethat.Dad’sconvincedyouhadnothingtodowiththis.He’slongsuspectedthere’snefariousactivitytakingplaceatthathotel.”Shepausesandlooksaroundtheroom.HereyeslandonGran’sfloweredcurtains,hercuriocabinet,andtheEnglishlandscapeprintsonthewall.“IcanseewhyDad’ssosureaboutyou,Molly.Buttoabsolveyou,weneedtofigureoutwhomightactuallybeguiltyofthesecrimes.Weboththinkyou’vebeenplayed.Doyouunderstand?You’vebeenusedasapawninMr.Black’smurder.”
Irecalltheguninmyvacuum.TheonlypeoplewhoknewaboutmeandthatgunwereGiselleandRodney.Thatthoughtalonesendsawaveofsadnessrushingthroughme.Islumpoverasitwashesawayallthegumptionfrommyspine.
“I’minnocent,”Isay.“Ididn’tkillMr.Black.”TearsprickmyeyesandIdrivethemback.Idon’twanttomakeafoolofmyself,Ireallydon’t.
“It’sallright,”Mr.Prestonsays,givingmyarmalittlepat.“Webelieveyou.Allyouhavetodoistellthetruth,yourtruth,andCharlottewillseetotherest.”
“Mytruth.Yes,”Isay.“Icandothat.Isupposeit’stime.”
IstartwithafulldescriptionofwhatIsawthedayIenteredtheBlacksuiteandfoundhimdeadinhisbed.Charlottefuriouslyjotsdownmyeveryword.Idescribethedrinksonthemessysitting-roomtable,Giselle’sspilledpillbottleinthebedroom,thediscardedrobeonthefloor,thethreepillowsonthebedratherthanfour.Istarttoshakeasthememoryreturns.
“I’mnotsurethatpillowsandmessinessarethedetailsCharlotte’safterhere,Molly,”Mr.Prestonsays.“Ithinkshe’slookingfordetailsthatmightsuggestfoulplay.”
“That’sright,”Charlotteadds.“Suchasthepills.YousaidthepillswereGiselle’s.Didyoutouchthem?Weretheylabeled?”
“No,Ididn’ttouchthem.Notthatdayatleast.Andthecontainerwasn’tlabeled.IknewtheywereGiselle’sbecauseshe’doftentaketheminmypresencewhenIwascleaningthesuite.Plus,Ioftensawthebottleinthebathroom.Shecalledthemher‘benzfriends’orher‘chillpills.’Ibelieve‘benz’isamedicineofsomesort?Shedidnotseemilltome—well,notinthephysicalsense.Butsomeillnessesarealotlikemaids—omnipresentbutalmostimperceptible.”
Charlottelooksupfromherpad.“Sotrue,”shesays.“Benzisshortforbenzodiazepine.It’sananti-anxietyanddepressionmed.Smallwhitepills?”
“Alovelyshadeofrobin’s-eggblue,actually.”
“Huh,”saysCharlotte.“Soitwasastreetdrug,notaprescription.Dad,didyouevertalktoGiselle?Everseeanyoddbehaviorfromher?”
“Oddbehavior?”hesays,takingasipoftea.“Oddbehaviorisparforthecoursewhenyou’reahoteldoormanattheRegencyGrand.ItwasclearthatsheandMr.Blackwereoftenontheouts.OnthedaythatMr.Blackdied,sheleftinahurryandwascrying.Aweekbefore,samething,butthatwasafteravisitfromVictoria,Mr.Black’sdaughter,andhisex-wife,thefirstMrs.Black.”
“Irememberthatday,”Isay.“Mrs.Black—thefirst—heldtheelevatordooropenforme,butherdaughtertoldmetotaketheserviceelevatorinstead.GiselletoldmeVictoriadislikedher.Perhapsthat’swhyGisellewascryingthatday,Mr.Preston.”
“TearsandhighdramawerearatherregularoccurrenceforGiselle,”Mr.Prestonsays.“Isupposethat’snotsurprisingwhenyouconsiderthemanshemarried.Farbeitfrommetowishamanill,butIwasnotsadtoseethatman’slifecometoanearlyend.”
“Why’sthat?”Charlotteasks.
“YouworkadoorliketheRegencyGrandforaslongasIhave,andyoucanreadpeopleinasingleglance.Hewasnogentleman,nottothenewMrs.BlackortotheformerMrs.Black.Markmywords,thatmanwasabadone.”
“Abadegg?”Iask.
“Astinking,rottenegg,”Mr.Prestonconfirms.
“Didhehaveanyobviousenemies,Dad?Anyonewhomighthavewantedhimconvenientlydispatched?”
“Oh,I’msurehedid.Iwasoneofthem.Buttherewereothers.Firstoff,therewerethewomen—theotherwomen.WhentheMrs.Blacks,neworold,werenotaround,therewere…howshouldIcallthem…youngfemalecallers?”
“Dad,justsaysexworkers.”
“IwouldcallthemthatifIknewforsurethat’swhattheywere,butIneveractuallysawmoneyexchangehands.Ortheotherpart.”Mr.Prestoncoughsandlooksatme.“Sorry,Molly.Thisisallquitedreadful.”
“Itis,”Isay.“ButIcancorroboratethat.GiselletoldmethatMr.Blackwasengaginginextramaritalrelations.Withmorethanonewomantoo.IthurtGiselle.Understandably.”
“Shetoldyouthat?”Charlotteasks.“Didyoutellanyoneelse?”
“Imostcertainlydidnot,”Isay.Iadjustthetopbuttonofmyblouse.“Discretionisourmotto.Invisiblecustomerserviceisourgoal.”
Charlottelooksatherfather.
“Mr.Snow’sedictforhotelemployees,”heexplains.“He’sthehotelmanagerandself-proclaimedGrandVizierofhotelhospitalityandhygiene.ButI’mstartingtowonderifhisMr.Cleanactisalljustacleverfront.”
“Molly,”Charlottesays.“Canyoutellmeanythingthatmighthelpmeunderstandthedrugandweaponschargesagainstyou?”
“Icanshedsomelight,Ihope.GiselleandIweremorethanjustmaidandguest.Shetrustedme.Shesharedhersecretswithme.Shewasmyfriend.”IlooktoMr.Preston,fearingI’mdisappointinghimsinceIcrossedaguest-employeeboundary.Buthedoesn’tlookupset,justconcerned.
“GisellecametomyhousethedayafterMr.Blackdied.Ididn’ttellthepoliceaboutthat.Ifigureditwasaprivatevisitinmyownhomeandthereforenoneoftheirconcern.Shewasveryupset.Andsheneededafavorfromme.Iobliged.”
“Ohdear,”saysMr.Preston.
“Dad,”Charlottesays.Thentome,“Whatdidsheaskyoutodo?”
“Toremovethehandgunshe’dhiddeninthesuite.Inthebathroomfan.”
CharlotteandMr.Prestonexchangeanotherlook,oneI’malltoofamiliarwith—theyunderstandsomethingthatIdon’t.
“Butthereweren’tanygunshotsheard,orevenreportsofwoundsonMr.Black’sbody,”Mr.Prestonsays.
“No,notaccordingtoanynewsfeedsI’veseen,”Charlottereplies.
“Asphyxiated,”Isay.“That’swhatDetectiveStarksaid.”
Charlotte’smouthfallsopen.“Goodtoknow,”shesaysandscribblessomethingonheryellowpad.“Sothegunwasn’tthemurderweapon.DidyoureturnittoGiselle?”
“Ididn’tgetthechance.Ihiditinmyvacuumcleaner,expectingtogiveittoherlater.Thenatlunch,Ileftthehotel.”
“That’sright,”saysMr.Preston.“Isawyourushingoutthedoorsandwaswonderingwhereyouwereofftoinsuchahurry.”
Ilookdownatthecupinmylap.Somethingnigglesatmyconscience;thedragoninmybellystirs.“IfoundMr.Black’sweddingring,”Isay.“AndIpawnedit.Iknowthatwaswrong.It’sjustbeenveryhardonmyowntomakeendsmeetfinancially.Mygran.She’dbesoashamedofme.”Ican’tbeartolookupateitherofthem.Instead,Ijuststareintotheblackholeofmyteacup.
“Deargirl,”Mr.Prestonsays.“Yourgranunderstoodmoneytroublesbetterthanmost.Believeme,Iknowthatmuchaboutherandawholelotmore.It’smyunderstandingthatsheleftyousomesavings,aftershepassed?”
“Gone,”Isay.“Fritteredaway.”Ican’texplainaboutWilburandtheFabergé.There’sonlysomuchshameIcanconfesstoatonce.
“Soyoupawnedtheringandthenwentbacktowork?”Charlotteasks.
“Yes.”
“Andthepolicewerewaitingforyouwhenyoucameback?”
Mr.Prestonstepsin.“That’scorrect,Charlotte.Iwasthere.Couldn’tdoadamnthingtostopiteither,thoughItried.”
Charlotteshiftsherweightinthechair,crossesherlegs.“Whataboutthedrugcharges?Doyouunderstandhowthosecameabout?”
“Thereweretracesofcocaineonmymaid’strolley.Ihavenoideahowthat’sevenpossible.IpromisedGranlongagothatI’dneverinmylifetouchadrug.NowIfearI’vebrokenmypromise.”
“Deargirl,”Mr.Prestonsays.“I’msureshedidn’tmeanitliterally.”
“Let’sgobacktothegun,”Charlottesays.“Howdidthepolicefinditinyourvacuumcleaner?”
Andhere’swhereImustconfessthepiecesthatI’veputtogethermyselfsincemyarrest.“Rodney,”Isay,chokingonthetwosyllables,barelyabletospitthemupandejectthemfrommymouth.
“Iwaswonderingwhenhisnamewouldpopup,”Mr.Prestonsays.
“Whenthepolicetalkedtomeyesterday,Iwasafraid.Veryafraid.IwentstraighthomeandcalledRodney.”
“He’sthebartenderattheSocial,”Mr.PrestonaddsforCharlotte’sbenefit.“Smarmycretin.Writethatdown.”
IthurtstohearMr.Prestonsayit.“IcalledRodney,”Isay.“Ididn’tknowwhatelsetodo.He’sbeenaloyalfriendtome,maybeevenalittlebitmorethanafriend.Itoldhimaboutthepolicequestioningme,aboutGiselleandtheguninmyvacuumcleaner,andabouttheringI’dfoundandpawned.”
“Letmeguess.Rodneysaidhe’dbealltoohappytohelpanicegirllikeyou,”saysMr.Preston.
“Somethingtothateffect,”Isay.“ButDetectiveStarksaiditwasCheryl,mysupervisor,whofollowedmetothepawnshop.Maybeshe’stheculpritinallofthis?She’sdefinitelyuntrustworthy.ThestoriesIcouldtellyou.”
“MydearMolly,”Mr.Prestonsayswithasigh.“RodneyusedCheryltotipoffthepolice.Canyouseethat?Helikelyusedthegunandtheringinyourpossessiontodivertsuspicionawayfromhimselfandtowardyou.Hemayverywellbeconnectedtothecocainefoundonyourcart.AndtothemurderofMr.Black.”
IknowGranwouldbedispleased,butmyshouldersslumpevenmore.Icanbarelykeepmyselfupright.“DoyouthinkthatperhapsRodneyandGiselleareincahoots?”Iask.
Mr.Prestonnodsslowly.
“Isee,”Isay.
“I’msorry,Molly.ItriedtowarnyouaboutRodney,”hesays.
“Youdid,Mr.Preston.Youcanaddthe‘Itoldyouso.’Ideserveit.”
“Youdonotdeserveit,”hereplies.“Weallhaveourblindspots.”
HestandsandwalksovertoGran’scuriocabinet.Helooksatthephotoofmymother,thenputsitdown.HepicksupthephotoofGranandmeattheOliveGarden.Hesmiles,thenreturnstohisseatonthesofa.
“Dad,whatexactlydidyouseeatthehotelthatmadeyoususpiciousofillegalactivity?Doyouthinkthere’sactualdrug-runninghappeningattheRegencyGrand?”
“No,”Isaydefinitivelybeforehecananswer.“TheRegencyGrandisacleanestablishment.Mr.Snowwouldn’thaveitanyotherway.TheonlyotherissueisJuanManuel.”
“JuanManuelMorales,thedishwasher?”Mr.Prestonasks.
“Yes,”Ireply.“Icertainlywouldn’ttelltalesunderordinarycircumstances,butthesearefarfromordinarycircumstances.”
“Goon,”Charlottesays.
Mr.Prestonleansforward,adjustinghimselfaroundthesofa’spointiersprings
Iexplaineverything.HowJuanManuel’sworkpermitexpiredsometimeago,howhehasnowheretolive,andhowRodneysecretlyletshimstayovernightinemptyhotelrooms.IexplaintheovernightbagsIdropoff,andhowIcleanupafterJuanManuelandhisfriendseverymorning.
“I’lladmit,”Isay,“Ireallydon’tknowhowsomuchdustcanbetrackedintoaroominjustonenight.”
Charlotteputsherpendownonherpadandaddressesherfather.“Wow,Dad.Whatafineestablishmentyouworkat.”
“Parexcellence,astheysayinFrance,”Iadd.
Mr.Prestonhashisheadinhishandsandisshakingitbackandforth.“Ishouldhaveknown,”hesays.“TheburnmarksonJuanManuel’sarms,thewayheavoidedmewheneverIaskedhowhewasdoing.”
It’sonlythenthatthejigsawpiecesconnectinmymind.Rodney’sbehemothfriends,thedust,theparcelsandovernightbags.Thetracesofcocaineonmytrolley.
“Ohmylord,”Isay.“JuanManuel.He’sbeingabusedandcoerced.”
“He’sbeingforcedtocutdrugseverynightinthehotel,”Mr.Prestonsays.“Andhe’snottheonlyonebeingused.They’vebeenusingyou,too,Molly.”
Itrytoswallowtheenormouslumpthathasformedinmythroat.
Iseeitallclearly,allofit.“Ihaven’tonlybeenworkingasamaid,haveI?”Iask.
“I’mafraidnot,”Charlottereplies.“I’msorrytosayit,Molly,butyou’vealsobeenworkingasamule.”
Charlotteisonthephonehavingaquietconversationwithsomeonefromheroffice.Mr.Prestonisusingthewashroom.I’mpacingthelivingroom.Istopatthewindowandopenitacrackinafutileattempttogetsomefreshair.Attachedtoourexteriorwall,anemptybirdfeederswingsinthebreeze.GranandIusedtowatchbirdsfromthiswindow.We’dadmirethemforhoursastheygobbledbreadcrumbswe’dleaveout.Wegaveeachlittlebirdaname—SirChirpsalot,LadyWingdamere,andtheEarlofBeak.ButwhenMr.Rossocomplainedaboutthenoise,westoppedourfeeding.Thebirdsflewawayandneverreturned.Oh,tobeabird.
AsIstareoutthewindow,IcatchlittlesnippetsofCharlotte’sconversation—“backgroundcheckonRodneyStiles,”“firearmsregistryforthenameGiselleBlack,”“inspectionrecordsfortheRegencyGrandHotel.”
Mr.Prestonemergesfromthewashroom.“NoJuanManuel?”heasks.
“Notyet,”Ireply.
Aboutanhourago,CharlotteandMr.PrestondecidedtocontactJuanManuel.Iwasveryunsureaboutdragginghimintomymess.
“It’stherightthingtodo,”Charlottesaid.“Formanyreasons.”
“Heholdsthemissingpieces,”Mr.Prestonadded.“He’stheonlyonewhomightbeabletoshedlightonthisfiasco—ifwecanconvincehimtotalk.”
“Won’thebeafraid?”Iasked.“Ihavereasontobelievethathisfamilyhasbeenthreatened.Andsohashe.”Ican’tbeartoevenmentiontheotherpart—theburnmarks.
“Yes,”saidCharlotte.“Whowouldn’tbescared?Buthe’llhaveanewchoicetodaythathedidn’thavebefore.”
“Whatchoice?”Iasked.
“Betweenusandthem,”Mr.Prestonreplied.
Mr.Prestonwastedlittletimeafterthat.HecalledsomeoneinthehotelkitchenwhocalledsomeoneelsewhodiscreetlycheckedthestaffdirectoryandhandedoverJuanManuel’sdirectcellnumber,whichallofushastilystoredinourphones.
IwaitednervouslyasMr.Prestondialedhisnumber.Whatifheturnedouttobeyetanotherdisappointment,anotherpersonwhowasn’twhoIthoughttheywere?
“JuanManuel?”Mr.Prestonsaid.“Yes,that’sright…”
Icouldn’thearJuanManuel’sresponses,butIpicturedhispuzzledfaceashetriedtofigureoutwhyMr.Prestonwascalling.
“Ibelieveyou’reinsomeseriousdanger,”Mr.Prestonexplained.HewentontosaythathisdaughterwasalawyerandthatheknewJuanManuelhadbeencoercedatthehotel.
TherewasashortpauseasJuanManuelspoke.
“Iunderstand,”Mr.Prestonsaid.“Wedon’twantyouhurt,andwedon’twantyourfamilyhurteither.YoushouldalsoknowthatMolly’sintroubleaswell….Yes,that’sright….She’sbeenframedforMr.Black’smurder,”Mr.Prestonsaid.
Anothershortpause,abitmorebackandforth,andthen,“Thankyou…Yes…Certainly,wecanexplaineverythingindetail.Andpleaseknow,we’dneverdoanythingto…Yes,ofcourse.Alldecisionswillbeuptoyou….I’lltextyoutheaddress.Seeyousoon.”
It’snowbeenoveranhour,andJuanManuelisstillnothere.Allofthiswaitingandanticipatingishavingamostdeleteriouseffectonmynerves.Tocalmmyself,IthinkaboutwhatadifferenceitmakeshavingMr.PrestonandCharlotteonmyside.Yesterday,Iwasalone.Thisapartmentfeltbleakandhollow.AllofitscolorandvibrancydrainedawaythedayGrandied.Butnowit’saliveagain,revitalized.Ilookatthefeederoutsidethewindow.PerhapslaterIwillscroungeforcrumbsandfillit,nomatterwhatMr.Rossosays.
IfeeloverchargedandIcan’tstaystill,whichiswhyI’mnowpacing.IfIwereherebymyself,I’dprobablyscourthefloorsorscrubthebathroomtiles,butI’mnotbymyself,notanymore.It’saltogethernewandoddtohavecompany.It’salsoagreatcomfort.
Mr.Prestontakeshisseatonthesofa.
Charlotteendshercall.
Somethingiseatingawayatme,andIdecidetovoiceit.“Don’tyouthinkIshouldcallR-Rodney?”Iask.Hisnametripsmeupagain,butIspititout.“Perhapshecanofferanexplanation?Maybehehasnothingatalltodowiththecocainefoundonmytrolley.ItcouldhavebeenCheryl,couldn’tit?Orsomeoneelse?WhatifRodney’stheonewhocanactuallyexplainallofthis?”
“Absolutelynot,”saysCharlotte.“I’vejustdoneabackgroundcheckonRodney.Richfamilybutkickedoutatfifteen.Theninagrouphome.Thenpettytheft,assault,andvariousdrugchargesthatneverstuck,andastringofdifferentaddressesamilelongbeforelandinghimselfinthiscity.”
“See,Molly?Callingthatcretinisabadidea,”Mr.PrestonsaysashesmoothsoutGran’scrochetedblanketonthesofa.“He’llonlylie.”
“Andthenhe’lldisappear,”Charlotteadds.
“WhataboutGiselle?Shemustknowsomethingthatcanhelpme.OrMr.Snow?”
Beforeeitherofthemcananswer,there’saknockatmydoor.
Mybreathcatchesinmythroat.“Whatifit’sthepolice?”TheroomstartstoundulateandIfearIwon’tmakeittothefrontdoor.
Charlotterisesfromherseat.“Youhavealegalrepresentativenow.Thepolicewouldhavecalledmeiftheywantedtocontactyou.”
Shecomestomyside.“It’sokay,”shesays,puttingareassuringhandonmywrist.Itworks.Iimmediatelyfeelalittlebitcalmerandtheripplesinthefloorsolidify.
Mr.Prestonappearsonmyotherside.“Youcandothis,Molly,”hesays.“Let’sopenthedoortogether.”
Itakeadeepbreathandwalktotheentryway.Iopenthedoor.
JuanManuelisstandingbeforeme.He’swearingapressedpoloshirt,tuckedintohisneatjeans.He’scarryingawhiteplastictakeoutbaginonehand.Hiseyesarewideandhisbreathisraggedasthoughheclimbedthestairstwobytwo
“Hello,Molly,”hesays.“Ican’tbelieveit.Inever,everwantedtroubleforyou.IfIcouldhave—”
Hestopsmidsentence.“Whoareyou?”heasks,lookingpastmetoCharlotte.
Shestepsforward.“I’mCharlotte,Molly’slawyerandMr.Preston’sdaughter.Pleasedon’tbeafraid.Wehavenointentionofturningyouin.Andweknowyou’reingravedanger.”
“I’mintoodeep,”hesays.“Sodeep.Ineverchosethissituation.Theymademe.TheymadeMolly,too.It’sthesamebutdifferent.”
“We’rebothintrouble,JuanManuel,”Isay.“Itismostserious.”
“Yes,Iknow,”hesays.
Mr.Prestonspeaksupfrombehindme.“What’sinthebag?”
“Leftoversfromthehotel,”JuanManuelreplies.“IhadtomakeitlooklikeIwasleavingforanearlydinnerbreak.Thereareafternoonteasandwichesinthere.Iknowyoulikethem,Mr.Preston.”
“Oh,Ido.Thankyou,”saysMr.Preston.“I’lllaythemout.Weallneedtostayfortified.”
Mr.Prestontakesthebagandbringsittothekitchen.
JuanManuelstandsatthethresholdwithoutmoving.Nowthathe’snotholdingthebag,it’seasytoseethathishandsareshaking.Soaremine.
“Won’tyoucomein?”Isay.
Hetakestwounsteadystepsforward.
“I’mgratefulthatyou’vecome,especiallygivenyourcurrentcircumstances.I’mreallyhopingyou’lltalktome,”Isay.“Andtothem.Ineed…help.”
“Iknow,Molly.We’rebothindeep.”
“Yes.TherearethingsthathappenedthatIdidn’t—”
“Thatyoudidn’tunderstand—untilnow.”
“Yes,”Isay.Iglanceathisscarredforearms,thenturnaway.
Hestepsinsideandlooksaroundtheapartment.“Wow,”hesays.“Thisplace.Itremindsmeofhome.”
Hetakeshisshoesoff.“WherecanIputmyworkshoes?Notveryclean.”
“Oh,that’sverythoughtful,”Isay.Isteparoundhimandopenthecloset.Itakeoutacloth.I’mabouttowipethebottomsofhisshoeswhenhetakestheclothfromme.
“No,no.Myshoes.Myjob.”
Istandtherenotknowingwhattodowithmyselfashecarefullywipeshisshoes,putstheminthecloset,thenfoldstheclothneatlyandtucksitawaybeforeclosingtheclosetdoor.
“ImustwarnyouthatI’mnotaltogethermyself.Everythinghasbeenvery…shocking.AndIdon’tnormallyhavevisitors,soI’mnotusedtothateither.I’mnotverypracticedatentertaining.”
“FortheloveofGod,Molly,”Mr.Prestonsaysfromthekitchen.“Justrelaxandacceptsomehelp.JuanManuel,perhapsyoucanassistmeinthekitchen?”
JuanManueljoinshim,andIexcusemyselftousethewashroom.Thetruthis,Ineedamomenttocollectmyself.Istareintothemirrorandbreathedeeply.JuanManuelishereandwe’rebothindanger.IlooklikeI’mfallingapart.Thereareblackcirclesundermyeyes,whichareswollenandred.I’mtenseanddrawn.Likethebathroomtilesthatsurroundme,mycracksarebeginningtoshow.Isplashsomewateronmyface,dryitoff,andthenexitthebathroom,joiningmyguestsinthelivingroom.
Mr.PrestoncarriesinGran’sservingtrayfullofdaintycucumbersandwiches—crustsremoved—mini-quichesandotherdelectableleftovers.Ismellthefoodandmystomachimmediatelybeginstorumble.Mr.Prestonputsthetrayonthecoffeetable.ThenhebringsanadditionalchairfromthekitchenforJuanManuel.Wealltakeourseats.
Ican’tbelieveit.HereweareinGran’ssittingroom,allfourofus.Mr.PrestonandIareonthesofa,andinfrontofmeareCharlotteandJuanManuel.Pleasantriesareexchanged,asifthiswereafriendlyteaparty,thoughweallknowitisnot.Charlotte’saskingaboutJuanManuel’sfamilyandhowlonghe’sworkedattheRegencyGrand.Mr.Prestoncommentsonwhatareliableandhardworkerheis.JuanManuellooksdownathislap.
“Iworkhard,yes,”hesays.“Toohard.Butstill,Ihavebigproblems.”
Wehavetinyplatesonourlapsfilledwithlittlesandwiches,whichweareeating,mefasterthananyone.
“Eat,”saysCharlotte.“Bothofyou.Thisisn’teasy.You’llneedtostaystrong.”
JuanManuelleansforward.
“Here,”hesays.“Trythese.”Heplacestwolovelyfingersandwichesonmyplate.“Imadethem.”
Ipickupasandwichandtakeabite.It’sanexquisitetaste,fluffycreamcheeseandsmokedsalmon,withaburstofdillandlemonzestattheend.I’venevertastedasandwichmoredeliciousinmylife,somuchsothatit’snearlyimpossibletofollowGran’schewingimperative.It’sgonebeforeIknowit.
“Delightful,”Isay.“Thankyou.”
Weareallsilentforamoment,butifothersfeeluncomfortableI’mnotaware.Forabriefmoment,despitethecircumstances,IfindmyselffeelingsomethingIhaven’tfeltinsolong,notsincebeforeGrandied.Ifeel…companionship.Ifeel…notentirelyalone.ThenIrememberwhatbroughteveryonehereinthefirstplace,andtheanxietybeginstochurnagain.Iputmyplateaside.
Charlottedoesthesame.Shepicksupthepadandpenbyherchair.“Well,we’reallhereforthesamereason,sowebettergetstarted.JuanManuel,IbelievemyfatherfilledyouinaboutMolly’spredicament?AndIbelieveyouyourselfareinaverychallengingsituation.”
JuanManuelshiftsinhischair.“Yes,”hesays.“Iam.”Hisbigbrowneyeslookintomine.“Molly,”hesays,“Ineverwantedtoseeyouinvolvedinthis,butwhentheybroughtyouin,Ididn’tknowwhattodo.Ihopeyoubelieveme.”
Iswallowandconsiderhiswords.Ittakesmeamomenttospotthedifference—betweenabold-facedlieandthetruth.ButthenitsharpensandIcanseeitclearlyinhisface.Whathe’ssayingisthetruth.“Thankyou,JuanManuel.Ibelieveyou.”
“Tellherwhatyoutoldmeinthekitchen,”Mr.Prestonsuggests.
“YouknowhoweverynightIstayedinadifferentroomatthehotel?Howyougavemeadifferentkeycardeachnight?”
“Yes,”Isay.
“Mr.Rodney,hewasn’ttellingyouthewholestory.It’strue,Idon’thaveanapartmentanymore.Andnoworkpermitnoweither.WhenIdid,everythingwasgreat.Isentmoneybackhome.Itwasneeded,becauseaftermydaddied,therewasn’tenough.Myfamilywassoproudofme—‘You’reagoodson,’mymothersaid.‘Youworkhardforus.’Iwassohappy.Iwasdoingthingstherightway.”
JuanManuelpauses,swallows,thencontinuestospeak.“Butthen,whenIneededmyworkpermitextended,Mr.Rodneysaid,‘Noproblem.’Heintroducedmetohislawyerfriend.Andthatlawyerfriendtookalotofmymoney,butintheend,nopermit.IcomplainedtoRodneyandhesaid,‘Mylawyerguycanfixanything.You’llhaveanewpermitinafewdays.’Hetoldmehe’dmakesureMr.Snowdidn’tfindout.Butthenhesaid,‘Youhavetohelpme,too,youknow.Youscratchmyback,Iscratchyours.’Ididn’twanttoscratchhisback.Iwantedtogobackhome,tofindanotherway.ButIcouldn’tgobackhome.Ihadnosavingsleft.”
JuanManuelgoessilent.
“WhatexactlydidRodneymakeyoudo?”Charlotteasks.
“Atnight,aftermyshiftinthekitchen,I’dsneakintowhateverhotelroomwiththekeycardMollygaveme.Molly,she’dleavemybagthereforme,right?”
“Yes,”Isay.“Idid.Everynight.”
“Thatbag,itwasnevermine.ItwasMr.Rodney’s.Hisdrugswereinside.Cocaine.Andsomeotherthingstoo.Heusedtobringmoredrugslaterinthenightwhennooneelsewasaround.Andthenhe’dleave.Allnight,hemademework—sometimesalone,sometimeswithMr.Rodney’smen—andwe’dpreparethecocaineforsale.Ididn’tknownothingaboutthesethingsbefore,Iswear.ButIlearned.Ihadtolearn.Fast.”
“Whenyousayhemadeyou,whatdoyoumeanexactly?”Charlotteasks.
JuanManuelwringshishandsashespeaks.“ItoldMr.Rodney,‘Iwon’tdothis.Ican’t.I’dratherbedeportedthandothis.Thisiswrong.’ButthingsgotworsewhenIsaidthat.Hesaidhe’dkillme.Isaid,‘Idon’tcare.Killme.Thisisnolife.’?”JuanManuelpauses,looksdownathislap,thencontinues.“Butintheend,Mr.Rodneyfoundawaytomakemedohisbadbusiness.”
JuanManuel’sfacetightens.Inoticethedarkringsaroundhiseyesandtherednessinthem.Welookthesame,heandI—allofoursorrowsonfulldisplay.
“WhatdidRodneydothen?”Charlotteasks.
“HesaidifIdon’tkeepquietanddohisdirtywork,hewouldkillmyfamilybackhome.Youdon’tunderstand.Hehasbadfriends.HeknewmyaddressinMazatlán.He’sabadman.Sometimes,whenIwasworkinglate,IgotsotiredI’dfallasleepinmychair.I’dwakeup,forgetwhereIwas.Mr.Rodney’smen,theywouldhitme,throwwateratmetokeepmeawake.Sometimestheyburnedmewithcigarstopunishme.”Heholdsouthisarm.
“Molly,”JuanManuelsays.“Imadeupliesaboutthedishwasherburningme;I’msorry.It’snotthetruth.”Hisvoicecatchesandhedissolvesintotears.“It’swrong,”hesays.“Iknowagrownmanshouldnotcrylikeababy,”hesays.Helooksupatme.“Molly,whenyoucameinthehotelroomthatdayandsawmewithRodneyandhismen,Itriedtotellyoutorunaway,togotellsomeone.Ididn’twantthemtogetyouliketheygotme.Buttheydid.Theyfoundawaytogetyoutoo.”
Mr.PrestonisshakinghisheadasJuanManuelcontinuestosob.Myowntearsbegintofall.
Suddenly,Ifeelverytired,moretiredthanI’veeverfeltinmylife.AllIwantistogetupfromthesofa,paddownthehallwaytomybedroom,wrapmyselfupinGran’slone-starquilt,andfallasleepforever.IthinkbacktoGraninherlastdays.Isthiswhatshefeltneartheend,drainedofthewilltocarryon?
“Lookslikewefoundourrat,”Mr.Prestonsays.
“Wherethere’sone,therearemore,”Charlotteadds.SheturnstoJuanManuel.“WasRodneyworkingforMr.Black?Didyoueverhearorseeanything—anythingatall—thatmightsuggestMr.Blackwasactuallybehindthisdrugoperation?”
JuanManuelwipesthetearsfromhisface.“Mr.RodneyneversaidmuchaboutMr.Black,butsometimeshetookcalls.HethinksI’msostupidthatIdon’tunderstandEnglish.ButIheardeverything.Mr.Rodneywouldsometimescomeintotheroomlateatnightwithlotsandlotsofmoney.He’dsetupmeetingstogivemoneytoMr.Black.LikemoremoneythanIeverseeninmylife.Likethis.”Hemakesagesturewithhishands.
“Stacksofbills,”Charlottesaid.
“Yes.New.Fresh.”
“TherewerebundleslikethatinMr.Black’ssafethedayIfoundhimdead,”Isay.“Perfect,cleanstacks.”
JuanManuelcontinues.“Once,Rodneywasreallyupsetbecausetherewasn’tmuchmoneycominginthatnight.HewenttomeetMr.Blackandwhenhecameback,hehadascarjustlikemine.Butnotonhisarms.Onhischest.That’showIknewIwasn’ttheonlyonegettingpunished.”
Thepiecescometogether.IremembertheVofRodney’scrisp,whiteshirtandthestrangeroundblemishmarringhisperfectlysmoothchest.
“I’veseenthatscar,”Isay.
“There’sanotherthing,”JuanManuelsays.“Mr.RodneynevertalkedtomedirectlyaboutMr.Black.ButIknowheknowsthewife.Thenewwife.Mrs.Giselle.”
“That’snotpossible,”Isay.“Rodneyassuredmehebarelyeverspoketoher.”ButevenasIsayit,IrealizeI’mafool.
“HowdoyouknowRodneyknowsGiselle?”Charlotteasks.
JuanManueltakesouthisphonefromhispocketandflicksthroughsomephotosuntilhefindstheonehe’slookingfor.“BecauseIcaughthim,”hesays.“HowdoyousayinEnglishenflagrantedelito…”
“Inflagrante?”Mr.Prestonoffers.
“Likethis,”hesays,andturnshisphonearoundtoshowusapicture.
It’sRodneyandGiselle.TheyarekissingsopassionatelyinashadowyhallwayofthehotelthattheymostcertainlywouldnothavenoticedJuanManueltakingthepicture.MyheartfeelssoreandheavyasIstareatthephoto,registeringthedetails—herhairsweptacrosshisshoulder,hishandonthesmallofherarchedback.Ifearmyheartmaystopaltogether.
“Wow,”saysCharlotte.“Canyousendthattome?”
“Yes,”JuanManuelsays.Theyexchangenumbersandhetextsthephototoher.Ittakesonlyafewsecondsforthevileprooftoreplicateonherphone.
Charlottestandsandpacesthelivingroom.“It’sbecomingmoreandmoreclearthatGiselleandRodneyhadmultiplereasonstowantMr.Blackdead.ButtheonlywaywecanproveMollyisinnocentisbyfindingirrefutableproofthatoneorbothofthemkilledMr.Black.”
“Itwasn’tGiselle,”Isay.“Shedidn’tdoit.”
Manyskepticaleyesturnmyway.
“Oh,Molly.Howdoyouknowthat?”Charlotteasks.
“Ido.Ijustdo.”
CharlotteandMr.Prestonexchangethatlookagain,thelookofdoubt.
Mr.Prestonrisestohisfeet.“Ihaveanidea,”heannounces.
“Uh-oh,”Charlottereplies.
“Justhearmeout,”hesays.“It’snotgoingtobeeasy,andwe’llhavetoworkasateam….”
“That’sagiven,”saysCharlotte.
“Ilikethisteamidea,”saysJuanManuel.“It’snotright,thewaytheytreatus.”
“We’llhavetobeconniving,”saysMr.Preston.“We’llhavetomakeaplanthat’sironclad.”
“Aplan,”Charlottesays.
“Yes,”Mr.Prestonanswers.“Aplan.Tooutsmartthefox.”
Ittookwelloveranhourtohashoutthedetails.Duringthattime,Isaid,“No”and“Ican’t”sorepeatedlythatIsounded,asGranusedtosay,liketheLittleEngineThatCouldn’t.
“Yes,youcan,”Mr.Prestontoldmeoverandover.“WouldColumbogiveup?”
“You’vegotthis,MissMolly,”JuanManuelchimedin.
“IfIdidn’tthinkyoucoulddothis,Iwouldn’tbesuggestingit,”Charlottereasoned.
Wepracticedandpracticed.WeranthroughscenariosandIperfectedmyanswerstoallthequestionstheycouldcomeupwith.Weactedoutthepossiblethingsthatcouldgowrong.Ihadtogetpastthefeelingofdissimulating,ofnotpresentingmytruethoughts,butJuanManuelsaidsomethingthateasedmymind:“Sometimes,youmustdoonethingbadtodoanotherthinggood.”He’srightinsomanyways,andIknowsofromexperience.
WerehearsedwithJuanManuelplayingoppositeme,thenwithMr.Prestonplayingoppositeme.Ihadtoforgettheyweremykindfriends.Ihadtothinkofthemasverybadeggswheninfacttheyarenothingofthesort.Wehashedthroughdetails,notedkeylines,andcameupwithcontingencyplanstodealwithanyeventuality.
Andnowwe’refinished.Charlotte,Mr.Preston,andJuanManuelareallsmilingandsittingtallerintheirchairsastheystareatme.Ican’tquitebesure,butIthinkIunderstandwhatIseeintheirfaces—pride.TheybelieveIcandothis.IfGranwerehere,she’dsay,See,Molly?Youcandoitifyouputyourmindtoit.
I’mfeelingbetteraftersomuchpractice,calmerabouttheentireplan.Imustsay,IdofeelalittlelikeColumbo,withateamofcrackinvestigatorsaroundme.Together,we’vedevisedatrapthatwillhopefullyresultinRodneybeingcaughtinflagranteagain—butthistime,inadifferentwayentirely.
Thefirststepbeginsimmediately,withmetextinghim.We’vestrategizedexactlywhatI’llwrite.“I’mtoonervous,”Isay,onceItypethemessageintomyphone.“CansomeonecheckitbeforeIpressSend?”
JuanManuel,Mr.Preston,andCharlottegatherroundmeonthesofa,readingovermyshoulder.
“Itsoundsgood,”JuanManuelsays.“Thewayyouspeak,it’ssoniceallthetime.Morepeopleshouldtalklikeyou,Molly.”
HesmilesandIfeelatingleofwarmth.“Thankyou.That’sverykind.”
“I’daddtheword‘urgently’toyourtext,”Mr.Prestonsuggests.
“Yes,that’sgood,”saysCharlotte.“Urgently.”
Iadjustthemessage:Rodney,wemustmeet:urgently.Mr.BlackwasMURDERED.Imaderevelationstothepoliceofwhichyoushouldbeaware.I’msincerelysorry!
“Okay?”Iask,lookingforapprovalfromallofthem.
“Doit,Molly.PressSend,”Charlottesays.
Isqueezemyeyesshutandpressthebutton.Icanheartheswooshofthemessageleavingmydevice.
WhenIopenmyeyesafewsecondslater,threecirclesappearinanewtextboxbelowmysentmessage.
“Well,well,well,”saysMr.Preston.“Lookslikeourcretinisinarealhurrytorespond.”
MyphonetrillsasRodney’smessageappears:Molly,WTF?MeetmeintwentyminutesattheOG.
“OG?”Mr.Prestonasks.“What’sthat?”
“Originalgangster?”JuanManuelreplies.
“What’sthatsupposedtomean?”Charlotteasks.
Thenitcomestomeinaflash,andIfigureitout.“TheOliveGarden,”Isay.“That’swhereI’mtomeethim.ShallIanswer?”
“Tellhimyou’llbetheresoon,”Charlottesays.
Itrytotypearesponse,butmyhandsareshakingtoomuch.
“Doyouwantmetodoit?”Charlotteasks.
“Yes,please,”Isay.
Ihandherthephoneandweallwatchoverhershoulderasshetypes:K.CUin20min.
She’sabouttopressSendwhenJuanManuelstopsher.“Thatdoesn’tsoundlikeMollyatall.She’dneverwritethat.”
“Really?”Charlottesays.“What’swrongwithit?”
“Youhavetomakeitmorepretty,”JuanManueloffers.“Userespectfullanguage.Maybeusetheword‘delightful.’Mollyusesthiswordalot:deelightful.Sonice.”
Charlotteeraseswhatshewroteandtriesagain:Thisplansoundsdelightful,evenifthecircumstancesbringingustogetherarenot.Seeyousoon.
“Yes,”Isay.“That’swhatI’dsay.That’sverygood.”
“That’smyMissMolly,”JuanManueladds.
Swoosh.Charlottesendsthemessageandthenhandsmemyphone.
“Molly,”saysMr.Preston,puttingareassuringhandonmyshoulder.“Areyouready?Youknowwhattosaytohim,whattodo?”
Threeconcernedfacesawaitmyresponse.
“I’mready,”Ireply.
“Youcandothis,Molly,”Charlottesays.
“Wehavefaithinyou,”Mr.Prestonadds.
JuanManuelgivesmeathumbs-up.
Theyhaveallputtheirfaithinme.Theybelieveinme.Theonlyonewhoisn’tsureisme.
Youcandoitifyouputyourmindtoit.
Itakeadeepbreath,putmyphoneinmypocket,andwalkoutthefrontdoor.
I’mattheOliveGardeneighteenminuteslater,whichistwominutessoonerthanmyETA,mostlybecauseI’msonervousthatIspeed-walkedtheentireway.I’msittingatourboothundertheglowofthependantlight,onlythistime,itdoesn’tfeellikeourboothatall.Itwillneverbeourbootheveragain.
Rodneyhasn’tarrivedyet.AsIwait,horrificvisionsloopinmymind—Mr.Black,hisskinashenanddrawn,thephotoofRodneyandGiselle,twoslipperyserpentsentwined,Gran’slastfewminutesoflife.Idon’tknowwhythesethingsreplayinmymind,butit’sdoingnothingtoquellmyextremejitters.HowI’mgoingtogetthroughthis,Idonotknow.HowwillIactnormallywhenthetensionisalreadyjanglingthecoreofmybeing?
WhenInextlookup,thereheis,rushingintotherestaurant,searchingforme.Hishairistousled,thetoptwobuttonsofhisshirtareopen,revealinghisexasperatinglysmoothchest.Iimaginetakingtheforkfrommyplacesettingandstabbinghimwithit,rightthere,wheretheVofhisshirtframeshisnakedskin.ButthenIseehisscar,andmydarkdesireevaporates.
“Molly,”hesaysasheslidesintotheboothacrossfromme,“Imadeanexcusetotakeofffromworkforabit,butIdon’thavemuchtime.Let’smakethisquick,okay?Tellmeeverything.”
Awaitresscomestoourtable.“WelcometotheOliveGarden.CanIgetyoustartedwithsomefreesaladandbread?”
“We’rehereforaquickdrink,”Rodneyreplies.“Abeerforme.”
Iputafingerintheair.“Actually,saladandbreadwouldbelovely.AndI’llalsotakeanappetizerplateandalargepepperonipizza,please.Oh,andsomewater?Very,verycold.Withice.”NoChardonnayformetoday—Imustremainclearheaded.Also,thisisnotacelebration,notinanyway.“Thankyou,”Isaytothewaitress.
Rodneyrunshisfingersthroughhishairandsighs.
“Thankyouforcoming,”Isayoncethewaitressisgone.“Itmeanstheworldtomethatyou’realwaystherewhenIneedyou.Suchareliablefriendyouare.”MyfacefeelsstiffandforcedasIsaythis,butRodneydoesn’tseemtonotice.
“I’mhereforyou,Molly.Justtellmewhathappened,okay?”
“Well,”IsayasIconcealmyshakinghandsunderthetable,“afterthedetectivetookmetothestation,shetoldmeMr.Blackdidnotdienaturally.Shesaidhewasasphyxiated.”
Iwaitforthistosinkin.
“Whoa,”Rodneysays.“Andyou’retheobvioussuspect.”
“Infact,I’mnot.They’relookingforsomeoneelse.”ThesearetheexactwordsCharlotteinstructedmetosay.
Iwatchhimcarefully.HisAdam’sapplebobsupanddown.Thewaitressreturnswithbread,salad,andourdrinks.ItakealongsipofcoldwaterandrevelinRodney’sgrowingdiscomfort.Idonottouchthefoodatall.I’mfartoonervous.Plus,it’sforlater.
“DetectiveStarksaidthepersonsofinterestweremostlikelymotivatedbyMr.Black’swill.Shethinkstheymaybeevendiscussedhiswillwithhimbeforetheykilledhim.PoorGiselle.DoyouknowthatMr.Blackdidn’tleaveherathing?Notasinglething,thepoor,poorwoman.”
“What?Thedetectivetoldyouthat?Butthatcan’tbe.Iknowforafactitcan’tbe.”
“Doyou?Ithoughtyouweren’twellacquaintedwithGiselle,”Isay.
“I’mnot,”hesays.Heappearstobesweatingthoughit’snotundulywarminhere.“ButIknowpeoplewhoknowherwell.Anyhow,thisisn’twhattheytoldme.Soit’s…well,it’sabitofasurprise.”Hetakesagulpofbeerandputshiselbowsonthetable.
“Rude,”Isay.
“What?”
“Yourelbowsonthetable.Thisisarestaurant.Thatisadinnertable.Properetiquetterequiresyoutokeepyourelbowsoffit.”
Heshakeshisheadbuttakeshisoffensiveappendagesoffthetable.Victory.
“Salad?Bread?”Ioffer.
“No,”hereplies.“Let’sjustgettothepoint.Didn’tMr.BlackleaveGisellethevillaintheCaymans?Didthedetectivementionthat?”
“Hmm,”Isay.Ipickupmynapkinandgripitunderthetablebetweenmyperspiringhands.“Idon’trecallanythingaboutavilla.IthinkthedetectivesaidalmosteverythinggoestothefirstMrs.Blackandthechildren.”Anothertidbitdoledoutasplanned.
“You’retellingmethepolicevolunteeredallofthisinformationtoyoufornogoodreason?”
“What?Ofcoursenot,”Isay.“Whowouldtellmeanything?I’mjustthemaid.DetectiveStarkleftmeinaroombymyself,andyouknowhowitis.PeopleforgetI’mthere.OrperhapstheythinkI’mtoodafttounderstand?Ioverheardallofthisatthestation.”
“Andweren’tthedetectivesconcernedabouttheguninyourvacuum?Imean,I’massumingthat’swhytheynabbedyou,right?”
“Yes,”Isay.“ItseemsCherylfoundthegunandalertedthem.Interestingthatsheknewwheretolook.Forsomeonesolazy,it’shardtoimaginehersearchingadustyvacuumbag.”
Rodney’sfacechanges.“You’renotsuggestingItoldher,areyou?Molly,youknowIwouldnever—”
“I’dneversuggestthataboutyou,Rodney.You’reblameless.Aninnocent,”Isay.“Muchlikeme.”
Henods.“Good.I’mgladthere’snomisunderstandinghere.”Heshakeshisheadthewayawetdogwouldwhenitcomesoutofthewater.“Sowhatdidyoutellthepolicewhentheyaskedaboutthegun?”
“Isimplyexplainedwhosegunitwas,andwhereIfoundit,”Ireply.“Thatraisedtwoeyebrows.MeaningIbelieveDetectiveStarkwassurprised.”
“SoyounarcedonGiselle,yourfriend?”heasks.Hiselbowsmakeanaggravatingreappearanceonthetable.
“Iwouldneverbetrayatruefriend,”Isay.“Butthere’ssomethingdreadfulIhavetotellyou.It’swhyIcalledyouhere.”Hereitcomes,themomentI’vepreparedfor.
“Whatisitalready?”heasks,barelyabletokeeptherageoutofhisvoice.
“Oh,Rodney.YouknowhownervousIgetinsocialsituations,andImustsaythatbeinginterrogatedbydetectivescausedmemuchconsternation,asIhaveverylittleexperienceinsuchmatters.Perhapsyou’remoreaccustomedtosuchordeals?”
“Molly,gettothepoint.”
“Right,”Isay,wringingmynapkininmyhands.“OncetheissueofGiselle’sgunwasoutofthebag—Isupposethat’sbothliteralandfigurativeinthiscase—thedetectivesaidtheywouldsweeptheformerBlacksuiteyetagain.”IbringmynapkintomyeyesasItrytogaugehisresponsetothis.
“Goon,”hesays.
“Isaid,‘Oh,youcan’tdothat!JuanManuelisstayinginthatsuite.’Andthedetectiveasked,‘Who’sJuanManuel?’AndsoItoldthem.Oh,Rodney,Iprobablyshouldn’thave.ItoldthemhowJuanManuelisyourfriendandhowyou’vebeenhelpinghimbecausehehasnoworkpermitand—”
“Youmentionedmetothedetective?”
“Yes,”Isay.“AndItoldthemabouttheovernightbagsandthecleaningupafterJuanManuelandyourfriends,andhowgoodandkindyou’veallbeen—”
“They’rehisfriends,notmine.”
“Well,whoevertheyare,theysuredodragalotofmessintorooms.Butdon’tworry,Imadesuretoletthedetectiveknowwhatagoodmanyouare,evenifyourfriendsarealittle…dusty.”
Hetakeshisheadinhishands.“Oh,Molly.Whathaveyoudone?”
“Itoldthetruth,”Isay.“ButIrealizeIhavecausedabitofanissueforJuanManuel.Whatifhe’sstillintheBlacksuitewhentheycheckitagain?I’dhateforhimtogetinanykindoftrouble.You’dhatethat,too,wouldn’tyou,Rodney?”
Henodsvigorously.“Iwould.Yeah.Imean,we’vegottomakesurehe’snotintherewhentheycheck.Andwe’vegottocleanthatroomout,fast,beforethepolicearrive.Youknow,sotherearenotracesofJuanManuel.”
“Ofcourse,”Isay.“Mythoughtsexactly.”IsmileatRodney,butinsideI’mpouringafullkettleofboilingwaterontohisdirty,lyingface.
“Soyou’lldoit?”heasks.
“Dowhat?”Ireply.
“Sneakinandcleanthesuite.Now.Beforethecopsgetthere.You’retheonlyonebesidesChernobylandSnowwhohasaccess.IfMr.SnowcatchesJuanManuelthere—orworse,ifthepolicedo—he’llbedeported.”
“ButI’mnotsupposedtobegoingtoworktoday.Mr.SnowsaysI’m‘apersonofinterest’tothepolice,so—”
“Please,Molly!Thisisimportant.”Hereachesoutandgrabsmyhand.Iwanttowrenchmineaway,butIknowImustnotmove.
Wehavefaithinyou.
Ihearitinmyhead,butit’snotGran’svoicethistime.It’sMr.Preston’s.ThenCharlotte’s.ThenJuanManuel’s.
Ikeepmyhandsteadyunderhis,mygazeneutral.“Youknow,”Isay,“I’mnotallowedtoenterthehotel,butthatdoesn’tmeanyoucan’tenter.WhatifIquicklysneakintothehotel,grabtherightroomkey,andgiveittoyou?Youcanthenusemytrolleyandcleanuptheroomyourself!Wouldn’tthatbesomething—youcleaningupyourownmess?—Imean,JuanManuel’smess.”
Hiseyesaredartingallovertheplace.Thesheenonhisforeheadiscondensingintodroplets.
Afterafewmoments,hesays,“Okay.Allright.Yougetmethesuitekey,Icleantheroom.”
“Thesuitekeytoutsuite,”Isay,buthefailstoregistermycleverness.
Thewaitressarrivesatourtablewiththepepperonipizzaandtheappetizerplate.
“Wouldyoumindboxingthatup,please?”Iask.
“Sure,”shesays.“Wastheresomethingwrongwiththebreadandsalad?Youdidn’teventouchthem.”
“Ohno,”Isay.“It’salldelightful.It’sjustthatwe’reinabitofarush.”
“Ofcourse,”shesays.“I’llboxeverything.”Shegesturestoacolleague,andthetwoofthemtakecareofthefood.
“He’llhavethebill,please,”Isay,pointingtoRodney.
Hismouthdropsopen,buthedoesn’tsayanything,notsomuchasaword.
Ourwaitressretrievesthebillfromherapronandhandsittohim.Hepullsoutacrisp,fresh$100billfromhiswallet,passesittoher,andsays,“Keepthechange.”Hestandsabruptly.“Ibetterrun,Molly.Ishouldgetbacktothehotelanddothisrightaway.”
“Ofcourse,”Isay.“I’lltakeallthisfoodhome.ThenI’lltextyouassoonasImakeittothehotel.Oh,andRodney?”
“What?”heasks.
“Itreallyisashamethatyoudon’tlikejigsawpuzzles.”
“Why?”
“Because,”Isay,“Idon’tthinkyouquiteknowthepleasureonefeelswhensuddenly,allthepiecescometogether.”
Helooksatme,hislipcurled.It’ssoclear,themeaningofthelook.I’manidiot.Afool.AndI’mtoodafttoevenknowit.
That’stheexpressionthat’ssmearedalloverhisvulgar,lyingface.
Iwalkquicklyallthewayhome,takeoutbagsintow.I’meagertoreportbacktoMr.Preston,Charlotte,andespeciallyJuanManuel.
OnceI’minmybuilding,Iclimbthestairstwobytwo.I’mroundingthecornertomyhallwaywhenIseeMr.Rosso’sdooropenasliver.Hepeeksout,spotsme,thenslinksbackinside,closingthedoorbehindhim.
Iputdownthetakeoutbagstoturnthekeyinmylock,thenIwalkthroughtheentrance.“I’mhome!”Iannounce.
Mr.Prestonspringstohisfeet.“Oh,deargirl,you’reback.Thankgoodness.”
CharlotteandJuanManuelareseatedinthelivingroom.They,too,jumptotheirfeetthemomenttheyseeme.
“Howdiditgo?”Charlotteasks.
BeforeIcananswerCharlotte’squestion,JuanManuelisbesideme.He’sgrabbedthetakeoutbagsandisnowgettingoutthepolishingclothfromthecloset.ThemomentIremovemyshoes,hetakesthem,cleansthebottoms,andputsthemaway.
“Youdon’thavetodothat,”Isay.
“It’sokay.Doyouneedanything?Areyouokay?”heasks.
“I’mfine,”Ireply.“Ibroughttakeout.IhopeeveryonelikestheOliveGarden.”
“Likeit?Iloveit,”JuanManuelreplies.Hepicksupthebagsandwhisksthemawaytothekitchen.
“Youbettertellushowitwent,”Charlottesays.“DadandJuanManuelhavebeenanervouswrecksinceyousteppedoutthatdoor.”
“Everythingwentaccordingtoplan,”Isay.“Rodney’sheadingbacktothehotelnow.He’snonethewiserthatI’mtheonewho’sbeenarrested,andhebelievesthepolicearecomingbacktosearchthesuite.ItoldhimI’dbethereshortlytogethimthesuitekey.”Ican’thelpbutsmileasIsaythis,becauseI’veaccomplishedsomethingIwasn’tsurethatIcould.
“Perfect.Welldone,”Charlottereplies.
“Iknewyoucoulddoit!”JuanManuelcallsoutfromthekitchen.
“Dad,”Charlottesays,“yourshiftstartsatsixo’clock,right?AreyousureyoucangetyourhandsonthekeytotheBlacksuite?”
“Ihaveafewtricksupmysleeve,”hereplies.
“Theybetterbefoolproofones,Dad,becausethelastthingweneedrightnowisyouintroubletoo.”
“Don’tyouworry.It’sallgoingtogotickety-boo.Trustyourol’pa.”
JuanManuelemergesfromthekitchencarryingGran’steatrayfilledwithappetizersandpizzafromtheOliveGarden.
“Iwassupposedtobebackatworkawhileago,”hesays.“Theykeepcallingme.”Hesetsthetrayonthecoffeetableandsitsdown.
Charlotteshufflesherchairclosertohim.“It’suptoyou,JuanManuel,butI’mconcernedthatifyougobacktoworktoday—infact,ifyougotothathoteleveragain—Rodneywillfindawaytouseyouashealwaysdoes,andthenyou’regoingtobetheonecaughtinatrap,nothim.”
JuanManuellooksdownathisfeet.“Yes,Iknow,”hesays.“I’llcallthekitchenbackandtellthemI’msickandcan’tfinishmyshift.”
“Good,”Charlottesays.
“I’llfiguretherestoutlater,”JuanManueladds.
“Therest?”Mr.Prestonasks.
“Wheretosleeptonight,”hesays.“First,wemustconcentrateoncatchingthefox.”Henodsandsmiles,butit’snottherealkindofsmile,notthekindthatreacheshiseyes.
CharlottelooksatMr.Preston.
“OhJuanManuel,”Mr.Prestonsays.“Weweren’tthinking.Ifyoudon’tgobacktothehotel,thatmeansyouhavenowheretosleeptonight.”
“Thisismyproblem,notyours,”hesayswithoutlookingup.“Don’tworry.”
Itoccurstomethatthere’sanobvioussolution,butit’sonethat’salsoalittlebitawkwardforme.I’veneverhadagueststayovernightbefore,butIdothinkthatinthisparticularinstanceGranwouldurgemetodotherightthing.“Youcanstayhere,fortonight,”Isay.“There’splentyofspace.YoucanhavemyroomandI’llstayinGran’sroom.Itwillgiveyousometimetoconsideralternativearrangements.”
He’slookingatmelikehedoesn’tbelievewhatI’msaying.“Really?Areyouserious?You’dletmestayhere?”
“Isn’tthatwhatfriendsarefor?Tohelpeachotheroutofbinds?”
He’sshakinghisheadslowlybackandforth.“Ican’tbelieveyou’ddothisformeaftereverythingthat’shappened.Thankyou.Anddon’tworry—I’mveryquiet.I’mlikeagoodoven—self-cleaning.”
Mr.Prestonchucklesandgrabsasmallplatefromtheteatray,fillingitwithbruschetta,pizza,andfriedmozzarella.
IfollowhisleadandpreparefirstasmallplateforJuanManuel,thenoneformyself.
“CourtesyofRodney,”Isay.“Heowesusbothmuchmore.”
“Hedoes,”JuanManuelsays.
Charlottegetsupandgrabstheremotecontrolonthetelevision,turnsittothetwenty-four-hourlocalnewschannel.
I’mjustabouttotakemyfirstbiteoffriedmozzarellawhenwhatIhearstopsmemid-bite.
“…andpolicewillbeholdingaspecialpressconferenceinonehourtoreleaseimportantupdatesonthesearchforreal-estatemagnateCharlesBlack’skiller.Wedon’tknowforsure,butweexpecttoheardetailsonthechargesandverypossiblytheidentityoftheaccused,aswellas…”
Ifeelalleyesonme.Allofmyconfidenceebbsawayinjustafewseconds.“Whatnow?”Iask.
Charlottesighs.“Iwasworriedaboutthis.Thepoliceareeagertoreassurethepublicandtakecreditforcatchingthekiller.”
“Thisisnotgood,”JuanManueladdsasheputshisplatedownonthetable.
“Whatiftheysaymyname?WhatifRodneyfindsoutbeforeheevengetstothehotel?”
“It’sfiveo’clocknow.We’vestillgotanhour,”Mr.Prestonsays.
“That’sright,”Charlottesays.“Let’snotpanic.Isaywesticktotheplan.Butwedon’thavealotoftime.”
Thenewscasterisreviewingthedetailsofthedeathandthefindingsoftheautopsy—deathbyasphyxiation.Weallwatchinsilence.“…andinsidesourcessaythatMr.Black’swife,socialiteGiselleBlack,maynotbetheaccusedandthatsheremainsaguestatthehotel.Butwe’llknowmoreforsureinanhourwhen—”
CharlotteturnstheTVoff.“Let’shopeRodneydoesn’tseethisanddisappear.AndthatGiselledoesn’tcheckoutanytimesoon,”shesays.
“Shewon’t,”Isay.“Shehasnowhereelsetogo.”
Mr.Prestonputsdownhisplateandgetstohisfeet.“LookslikeI’mheadingtoworkearlytoday,”hesays.“Molly,areyouready?Youunderstandthenextsteps?”
Ican’tseemtoformwords.Ifeeltheworldtiltalittle,butIknowImustforgeonward.“I’mready,”Isay.
“Charlotte,whenyoureceivethetextfromme,you’llcontactDetectiveStark?”
“Yes,Dad.I’mactuallygoingtowaitrightoutsidethestation.”
“JuanManuel,willyouactasmissioncontrolfromhere?We’llcallyouwhenweneedyourhelp.”
“Yes,ofcourse,”hesays.“Youcall,I’monit.Iwon’trestuntilwecatchhim.”
Thereisnothingelseformetosayordo.I’velostmyappetite,soIputdownmyplate.
Thedeep-friedmozzarellastickswillhavetowait.
Mr.Prestoninsistswetakeacabovertothehoteltosavetime.We’venowpulledoverjustaroundthecornersothetaxicandropmeoff.I’membarrassedwhenhepays,butI’vereallynochoicebuttoaccepthisgenerosity.
“Molly,areyousureyou’reokaytowalkfromhere?Youknowtheplan?”
“Yes,Mr.Preston.I’mfine.I’mready.”I’msayingthewordswiththehopethatthefeelingswillfollow,butthetruthisthatI’mtremblingandtheworldaroundmeisspinningtoofast.
I’mabouttostepoutofthetaxiwhenMr.Prestonputsahandonmyarm.“Molly,yourgranwouldbeproudofyou.”
Thementionofhermakesmyemotionsbubbleup,butIwillthembackdown.“Thankyou,Mr.Preston,”Imanagebeforeslippingoutthedoor.
IwatchasMr.Prestondrivesawaywithoutme.
Iwalkthelastblockonmyownandwaitfortenminuteshiddeninanalleywayacrossfromthehotel.It’seerilybeautifulinthelateafternoon.Thegoldenlightstrikesthebrassandglassoftheentranceway,bathingitinamysteriousglow.TheChensareontheirwaytoanearlydinner.He’swearingapinstripesuitandshe’sallinblack,exceptforabright-pinkcorsagepinnedtoherbodice.Ayoungfamilyjumpsoutofataxiafteralongdayofsightseeing,theparentslethargicandslow.Theirtwochildrendashupthescarletsteps,holdingupsouvenirsforthevaletstosee.It’salwayslikethisatdusk—asifthedayisthrowingthelastofitsenergyupthestepswhilethehotelitselfpatientlywaitsforthecalmofnighttocome.
Thepodiumistheonlyspotthat’sforlornandempty.Mr.Prestonhasnotyetarrived.Nodoubthe’sstilldownstairs,donninghisgreatcoatandhatandsigninginearlyforhisshift.
Timeisgoingbyunbearablyslowly.Nervoustensionmakesmyentirebodytremble.Idon’tknowifIcandothis.I’munsuitedtothislevelofperformance.TheonlythingthatgivesmestrengthisthefactthatMr.Preston,Charlotte,andJuanManuelareinonit.
Whenyoubelieveinyourself,nothingcanstopyou.
I’mtryingmybest,Gran.Iam.
It’stime.
IremainwhereIam,tuckedinthealleyway,hidingintheshadowsofthecoffeeshop,upagainstthewall.Atlonglastheappears,Mr.Preston,smartlyuniformed.Hewalkscalmlythroughtherevolvingdoorsandstandsathispodiumonthehotellanding.Hepullsouthisphoneandsendsatext,thentucksitbackintohispocket.IleanagainstthewalleventhoughIknowit’sdirty.Ifallgoeswell,therewillbetimeforwashinglater.Ifitdoesn’tgowell,I’llneverbecleanagain.
Acouplemoreminutesgoby.JustwhenI’mstartingtofullypanic,Ispothimdownthestreet—Rodney,walkingquicklytowardthehotel.I’lladmitthatmyfeelingsuponseeinghimaremixed.Ontheonehand,hisappearancemeansthingsaregoingaccordingtoplan;ontheother,theverysightofhislying,cheatingfacefillsmewithmurderousrage.
Herunsupthefrontstepsandstopsatthepodium.HetalkstoMr.Preston.Theconversationlastsnomorethanaminute.ThenRodneyheadsintothehotel.
Mr.Prestonpullsouthisphoneanddials.Ipracticallyjumpoutofmyskinwhenmypocketstartstovibrate.
Igrabmyphone.“Hello?”Iwhisper.“Yes,Isawitall.Whatdidhewant?”
“Heheardaboutthepressconference,”Mr.Prestonexplains.“HewasaskingifIknewwhowasarrested.”
“Whatdidyoutellhim?”Iask.
“ThatIsawGiselletalkingwiththepolice.Andthatshelookedupset.”
“Ohdear.Thatwasn’tpartoftheplan,”Isay.
“Ihadtothinkfastonmybigol’feet.You’lldothesameifyouhaveto.Youcandothis.Iknowit.”
Itakeadeepbreath.“Anythingelse?”
“Thenewsconferencebeginsinunderfortyminutes.Wehavetobefast.It’stime.Texthimnow.Proceedasplanned.”
“Roger,Mr.Preston.Overandout.”
IendthecallandwatchMr.Prestonsliphisphoneaway.
IopenatexttoRodney:
Help.I’matthefrontdoorofthehotelandtheywon’tletmein!IfIcan’tgetthatkeycardforyou,whateverwillwedo?
Rodney’sresponseisimmediate:BRTDGA
What?Whatonearthisthatsupposedtomean?Ihaven’tthefaintestclue.Think,Molly,think.
You’reneveraloneaslongasyouhaveafriend.
Theanswerisliterallyrightatmyfingertips.IfindJuanManuelinmycontactsanddialhisnumber.Hepicksupbeforetheendofthefirstring.
“Molly?What’shappening?Iseverythingokay?”
“Yes,everything’sfine.Theplanisinprogress.But…JuanManuel,I’minabitofpickleandIneedhastyassistance.”IreadRodney’stexttohim.
“YouthinkIknowwhatthatmeans?”heasks.“IfeellikeI’monthatTVshowwhereyoucallafriendandtheygiveyoutheanswerandyouwinbigmoney.ButMolly,youcalledthewrongfriend!”Hepauses.“Wait.Holdon.”Ihearsomerustlingontheendoftheline.
“Okay,Molly?Areyoustillthere?”
“Yes.”
“IcheckedGoogle.RodneymeansBeRightThere.Don’tGoAnywhere.Okay?Doesthatmakesense?”
Itdoes.Itabsolutelydoes.I’mbackontrack.“JuanManuel,Icould…”
Icouldkisshim.That’swhatIwanttosay—thatI’msogratefulIcouldkisshim.Butit’ssuchaboldandridiculousthought,sounlikeme,thatitcatchesinmythroatanddoesn’tmakeitout.
“Thankyou,”Isayinstead.
“Gogetthefox,Molly,”hereplies.“IwillBRTwhenyougetbackhome.”
Iknowhe’snotherewithme,butitfeelslikeheis.It’slikehe’sholdingmyhandthroughtheline.
“Yes.Thankyou,JuanManuel.”
Ihangupandtuckmyphoneaway.
It’stime.
Itakeadeepbreath,thenwalkoutoftheshadowsontothesidewalk.
Alwayslookbothways….
Icrossthestreet,tryingtodosonormally,withoutrushing,remindingmyselftoactasthoughit’sjustanotherordinaryday.Isteadymyselfatthelanding,holdingtightlytothebrassrail.ThenIputonefootinfrontoftheother,andIclimbtheplushredstairs.
Mr.Prestonseesme.Hepicksupthehotelphoneonhispodiumandmakesacall.Icanhearhimsoundingperfectlybelievablewhenhesays,“Yes.Urgently.She’shereatthefrontdoorandshewon’tleave.”
Asplanned,Mr.Prestoniswearingwhitegloves,notpartofhisregularuniform.Heusuallywearstheseonlyonspecialoccasions,butthey’llcomeinhandytoday.
“Molly,”hesaysloudlyandbrusquely.“Whatareyoudoinghere?Youcan’tbeatthehoteltoday.I’mgoingtohavetoaskyoutoleave.”Helooksaroundtomakesurepeoplearewatching.Severalguestsarestreaminginandoutofthehotel.Acoupleofvaletsonthesidewalkstopwhatthey’redoingandwatchaswell.It’sasthoughI’manengagingspectatorsport.
Thoughitfeelssostrangetodoso,it’stimetoplaymypart,todrawevenmoreattentionmyway.“Ihaveeveryrighttobehere,”Icalloutinaconfident,boomingvoice.“I’manesteemedemployeeofthishotel,and—”
IstopshortwhenMr.Snowemergesfromtherevolvingdoors.
Mr.Prestonswiftlymovestowardhim.“I’llgetSecurity,”hetellsMr.Snow,thenheadsthroughtherevolvingdoors.
Mr.Snowrushesovertome.“Molly,”hesays.“I’msorrytoinformyouthatyouarenolongeremployedattheRegencyGrandHotel.Youmustleavethegroundsimmediately.”
Thewordsareashocktome,andImustsayIfeelutterlybereftwhenIhearthem.Still,Ibreathedeeplyandsticktomyperformance,deliveringmynextlinesevenlouderthanmypreviousones.“ButI’mamodelemployee!Youcan’tjustfiremewithoutcause!”
“Asyouwellknow,thereiscause,Molly,”Mr.Snowsays.“Weneedyouoffthesesteps.Now.”
“Thisisinconceivable,”Isay.“Iwon’tleave.”
Mr.Snowstraightenshisglasses.“You’redisturbingtheguests,”hehisses.
Ilookaroundandseethatmoreguestshavegathered.ItseemsthevaletshavetippedoffReception.Severalemployeesfromtheconciergedeskarestandingbythem,whisperingtooneanother.They’realllookingmyway.
Forthenextfewminutes,IkeepMr.Snowengagedonthestairs,demandingexplanations,begginghimtoreconsider,talkingatlengthabouttheaddedvalueofmydevotiontohygieneandthehighlevelofqualityIbringtothehotelwitheachguestroomthatIclean.IchannelGran,howsheusedtobeinthemorning,howshewouldchirpandchirpandchirpwithoutsomuchasapauseforbreath.Thewholetime,I’mawarethatwehaveonlyafewminutesleftbeforethewholeplanfallsapart.I’malsoawarethatI’mnotinuniform,whichaddstomydistressandgeneraldiscomfort.Comeback,Mr.Preston.Quickly!Ithinktomyself.
Atlonglast,hewalksbrisklythroughtherevolvingdoorsandstandsbesideMr.Snow.
“Ican’tfindSecurity,sir,”heannounces.
“Ican’tgethertoleave,”Mr.Snowreplies.
“Letmehandlethis,”Mr.Prestonsays.Mr.Snownodsandstepsaside.“Molly,aword…”
Mr.Prestongentlypullsmeaside,outofearshot.Webothturnourbackstothecuriouscrowd.
“Diditwork?”Iwhisper.
“Itdid.IfoundCheryl.”
“Andthenwhat?”Iask.
“IgotwhatIwanted.”
“How?”Iask.
“ItoldherIknewshewasstealingtipsfromothermaids.Shegotsoflusteredshedidn’tevennoticemepocketinghermasterkeycardfromhertrolley.Notsomuchasafingerprintleftbehindeither,”headds,wigglinghiswhite-glovedfingers.“Here,”hesays,holdingoutonehand.“Shake.”
Itakethecueandshake.WhenIdo,Ifeelthemasterkeycardtransferseamlesslyintomypalm.
“Youtakegoodcare,Molly,”hesaysinavoiceloudenoughfortheentireneighborhoodtohear.“Yourunhomenow.Youhavenoplacebeingheretoday.”HenodstoMr.SnowandMr.Snownodsback.
Ofcourse,Mr.PrestonknowsaswellasIdothatIcannotleave.Notyet.I’mabouttostartawholenewmonologueaboutworkerbeeswhenatlonglastRodneyemergesthroughtherevolvingdoorsandboundsdownthestepstowardme.
“Idon’tunderstandanyofthis!”Ishout.“I’magoodmaid!Rodney,you’rejustthepersonIwantedtosee.Canyoubelievethis?”
Mr.Snowapproaches.“Rodney,”hesays,“we’retryingtoexplaintoMissMollythatsheisnolongerwelcomeinthishotel.Butwe’rehavingahardtimedeliveringthemessage.”
“Iunderstand,”Rodneysays.“Letmetalktoher.”
I’mpulledawayagain.Oncewe’reoutofearshot,Rodneysays,“Molly,don’tworry.I’lltalktoSnowlaterandfindoutwhat’supwithyourjob.Okay?Probablyjustamisunderstanding.Didyougetthekey?TotheBlacksuite?There’snotimetolose.”
“You’reright,thereisn’t,”Isay.“Here’sthekey.”Idiscreetlypasshimthecard.
“Thanks,Molly.You’rethebest.Hey,Iheardthepoliceannouncedanewsconferencethat’sjustabouttohappen.Doyouknowwhatthat’sallabout?”
“I’mafraidnot,”Isay.
Iwatchhimcarefully,hopingthisanswerappeases.“Right.Okay.I’dbettergetthisdonebeforeOwlEyesletsthecopsin.”
“Yes.Asquicklyasyoucan.Goodluck.”
Heturnsandstartsupthestairs.“Oh,Rodney,”Isay.Heturnsback,looksdownatme.“Itreallyisremarkablethelengthstowhichyou’llgoforafriend.”
“Youdon’tknowthehalfofit,”hesays.“There’snothingIwouldn’tdo.”
BeforeIcansayanythingelse,he’satthetopofthestairs.“Don’tworry,”hetellsMr.Snow.“She’sleaving.”Hesaysitjustlikethat,asthoughIwasn’teventhere.
Afterthat,Ihurrydownthescarletsteps,turningbackonlyoncetoseeRodneyrushingthroughtherevolvingdoorsandMr.Prestonbehindhim,onehandout,theotherguidingMr.Snowintothehotel.
Icheckmyphone:5:45.
It’stime.
I’msittingatthecoffeeshopdirectlyacrossfromthehotel.I’mrightbythewindow,soIhaveaperfectviewoftheentrancetotheRegencyGrand.Thelightisfading.Sharpshadowsfallupontheentrance,turningthescarletstaircaseadifferentshade,closertothecolorofdriedblood.Itwon’tbetoolongbeforethewroughtirongaslightswillflickeronandtheirflameswillglowrichlyasduskgiveswaytodark.
Ihaveametalteapotinfrontofme,thekindthatdribblesandneverpourscleanly,andathickmug.IpreferGran’sporcelaintothis,butbeggarscan’tbechoosers.Ialsosplurgedonafreshlybakedraisin-branmuffin,whichI’vedividedintofourpieces,butI’mtoonervoustoeatitrightnow.
Afewminutesago,Mr.Prestonemergedfromtherevolvingdoorsandresumedhispositionatthedoorman’spodium.Hemadeacall.Itwasveryquick,veryquickindeed.Icanseehimlookupandacrossthestreetatthisverywindow.Heprobablycan’tseemeinthefadinglight,butheknowsI’mhere.AndIknowhe’sthere.Whichisacomfort.
Myphonebuzzes.It’satextfromCharlotte.Athumbs-upemoji,whichweagreedbeforehandwouldbeoursignfor“Everythingisgoingaccordingtoplan.”
Anothertextarrivesfromher:Waitwhereyouare.
Isendherathumbs-upemojibackeventhoughIamnotfeelingthumbs-upatall.Iamdecidedlythumbs-downandwon’tfeelthumbs-upuntilIseesomemovementonthosesteps,untilIseesigns—anysignsbeyondanemoji—thattheplanisactuallyworking.Andsofar,nothing.
It’s5:59P.M.
It’stime.
Iwrapmyanxioushandsaroundmymug,eventhoughit’stepidnowandnotmuchcomfort.IhaveagoodviewoftheTVscreentotherightofmytable.There’snosound,butit’stunedasitalwaysistothetwenty-four-hournewschannel.AyoungpoliceofficerIrecognizeasDetectiveStark’scolleagueisabouttospeakatthepressconference.He’sreadingfromthepapersinfrontofhim.Thecaptionsarescrolling:
…thatanarresthasbeenmadeinconnectiontowhatpolicehavenowconfirmedisthemurderofMr.CharlesBlack,onMondayattheRegencyGrandHotel.Photographedhereistheaccused,MollyGray,hotelroommaidattheRegencyGrand.Sheisunderarrestforfirst-degreemurder,possessionofafirearm,anddrugcharges.
ItakeasipofteaandnearlychokewhenIseemyfaceappearonthescreen.It’saphotographthatwastakenwhenIwashired,formyHRfile.Ididn’tsmileforthepicture,butatleastIlookprofessional.I’mwearingmyuniform.It’sclean,freshlypressed.Thecaptionscontinuetoscroll:
…currentlyoutonbail.Anyonerequiringfurtherinformationisinvitedto…
ItuneoutthenbecauseIhearcarscomingtoascreechinghalt.Acrossthestreet,rightinfrontofthehotel,arefourdarkcruisers.Severalarmedofficersjumpoutofthevehiclesandrunupthestairs.IwatchasMr.Prestonushersthemin.Thewholeeventlastsonlyafewseconds.Mr.Prestonemergesagainfromtherevolvingdoors,followedbyMr.Snow.Theyexchangeafewwordsandthenturntothevariousguestsonthelanding,nodoubtreassuringthemthateverythingisfinewheneverythingismostdefinitelynotfine.IfeelcompletelyhelplessasIwatchfromafar.There’snothingtodoexceptwaitandhope.Andmakeacall.Oneimportantcall.
It’stime.
ThisistheonlypartoftheplanthatIhavekepttomyselfallthistime.Inevershareditwithanyone—notwithMr.PrestonorCharlotteorevenJuanManuel.TherearestillsomethingsthatonlyIknow,thingsonlyIcanunderstandbecauseI’velivedthem.Iknowwhatit’sliketobealone,tobesoalonethatyoumakethewrongchoices,thatoutofdesperationyoutrustthewrongpeople.
Iopenmycontactsonmyphone.IcallGiselle.
Itringsonce,twice,threetimes,andjustwhenIthinkthatshewon’tanswer…
“Hello?”
“Goodevening,Giselle.It’sMolly,Mollythemaid.Yourfriend.”
“OhmyGod,Molly.I’vebeenwaitingforyoutocall.Ihaven’tseenyouatthehotel.I’vemissedyou.Iseverythingallright?”
Idon’thavetimeforniceties,andIdobelievethisisoneofthefewsituationsinlifewhenskippingtherulesofetiquetteisentirelyappropriate.“Youliedtome,”Isay.“Rodney’syourboyfriend.Yoursecretboyfriend.Younevertoldmethat.”
There’sapauseontheotherendoftheline.
“Oh,Molly,”shesaysafteratime,“I’msosorry.”Icanhearitinhervoice,thatlittlecatchthattellsmesheisneartears.
“Ithoughtwewerefriends.”
“Wearefriends,”shereplies.
Ifeelthestingofthislikeabarb.
“Molly,I’mlost.I’m…I’msolost,”shesays.She’scryingopenlynow,hervoicemeekandscared.
“Youmadememoveyourgun,”Isay.
“Iknow.Ishouldn’thavegottenyouinvolvedinmymess.Iwasscared,scaredthepolicewouldfinditandtheneverythingwouldpointtome.AndIfiguredthey’dneversuspectyou.”
“Thepolicefoundyourguninmyvacuum.Everything’spointingtomenow,Giselle.I’vebeenarrestedonmanycharges.Itwaspubliclyannouncedafewminutesago.”
“OhGod.Thiscan’tbehappening,”shesays.
“Itishappening.Tome.AndIdidnotkillMr.Black.”
“Iknowthat,”shesays.“ButIdidn’teither,Molly.Iswear.”
“Iknow,”Isay.“DidyourealizethatRodneywouldframeme?”
“Molly,IswearIdidn’t.AndthestuffRodneymadeyoudo,cleaningroomsafterhisshipments?IonlyfoundthatoutonMondaymorning.Beforethat,Ihadnoidea.Thatblackeyehehas?That’sbecauseIhithimwhenhetoldme.Wehadabigfightaboutit.Itoldhimitwasn’tright,thatyouwereaninnocent,goodperson,andthathecouldn’tjustusepeoplelikethat.Iflungmypurseathim,Molly.Iwassomad.Thechainwhoppedhimrightintheeye.”
Thatwasonemysterysolved,butonlyone.“DidyouknowthatRodneyandMr.Blackwerepartnersinillicitactivity?”Iask.“Didyouknowthattheywererunninganillegaloperationthroughthehotel?”
Ihearhershiftandshuffleontheendoftheline.“Yes,”shesays.“I’veknownforawhile.That’swhywespentsomuchtimeinthisfuckinghotel.Butthepartaboutyou?AboutRodneyinvolvingyouinhisdirtywork?Ididn’tknowthatuntilthisweek.IfI’dknownearlier,Iswear,Iwouldhaveputastoptoit.AndI’mtellingyou,IhadnothingtodowithCharles’smurder.RodneyandIjokedaboutit,sure,howwewouldfixourlivesandfinallybeabletobetogetheropenly,justbyoffinghisbossandmyhusbandwiththesamebullet.Weevenplannedrunningawaytogether,faraway.”
Itclicksthen.Theflightitinerary,twoone-waytickets.“TotheCaymans,”Isay.
“Yes,totheCaymans.That’swhyIaskedCharlestoputthatpropertyinmyname.Iwasgoingtoleavehimandrunaway,filefordivorcefromafar.RodneyandIweregoingtostartanewlife,abetterlife.Justthetwoofus.ButIneveractuallythought…Ididn’tknowRodneycouldactuallybecapableof…”
Shetrailsoff.“Haveyoueverfeltbetrayed,Giselle?”Iask.“Haveyoueverputagreatdealoffaithinsomeonewhothenletyoudown?”
“YouknowIhave.Youknowitalltoowell,”shesays.
“Mr.Black,heletyoudown.”
“Hedid,”shesays.“Buthe’snottheonlyone.Rodneytoo.ItseemsI’manexpertattrustingassholes.”
“Itmaybesomethingelsewehaveincommon,”Isay.
“Yeah,”saysGiselle.“ButI’mnotlikethem,Molly.CharlesandRodney,I’mnotlikethematall.”
“Aren’tyou?”Iask.“Mygranusedtosay,Ifyouwanttoknowwheresomeone’sgoing,don’twatchtheirmouths,watchtheirfeet.Ineverunderstoodthatuntilnow.Shealsosaid,Theproofisinthepudding.”
“Theproof’sinthe…what?”
“ItmeansIwon’ttrustyourwordsanymore.Iwon’t.”
“Molly,Imadeamistakeisall.Imadeastupidfuckingmistakeinaskingyoutogobackintothatsuiteanddomydirtyworkforme.Please.Iwon’tletyougodownforthis.Theycan’tgetawaywithit.”
Hervoiceisrawandreal,butcanItrustwhatIhear?
“Giselle,you’reatthehotelnow?You’reinyourroom?”
“Yeah.Aprincesslockedinthetower.Molly,youhavetoletmehelpyou.I’mgoingtospeakout,okay?I’lltellthepoliceitwasmygunandItoldyoutogetit.I’lleventellthemthatRodneyandCharleswererunningacartel.I’mgoingtogetyoucleared,Ipromise.Molly,you’retheonlytruefriendI’veeverhad.”
Ifeeltherushoftearsbreakoverthebanksofmyeyes.Ihopeit’strue,Ireallydo.Ihopeshe’sagoodeggcaughtinarottenbasket.It’stimetoputhertothetest.
“Giselle,youneedtolistentome.Youneedtolistenvery,verycarefully,okay?”
“Okay,”shesays,throughsniffles.
“CanyougettotheCaymanIslands?”
“Yeah.Ihaveopentickets.Icangoanytime.”
“Doyoustillhaveyourpassport?”
“Yes.”
“DonotcontactRodney.Doyouunderstand?”
“Butshouldn’tIlethimknowthat—”
“Hedoesn’tcareajotaboutyou,Giselle.Can’tyouseethat?He’lltakeyoudown,too,atthefirstchance.You’rejustanotherpawninhisgame.”
Ihearherstruggletodrawinbreath.“Oh,Molly,IwishIweremorelikeyou.I’mnot.I’mnotatall.You’restrong.You’rehonest.You’regood.Idon’tknowifIcandoit.Idon’tknowifIcanbealone.”
“You’vealwaysbeenalone,Giselle.Poorcompanyisworsethannone.”
“Letmeguess.Yourgrantoldyouthat?”
“Shedid,”Isay.“Andshe’sright.”
“HowcouldIhaveeverfallenforamanso…”
“Vile?”Ioffer.
“Yes,”shesays.“Sovile.”
“Vileandevilarecomposedofthesameletters.Onebegetstheother.”
“RodneyandCharles,”shesays.
“Vileandevil,”Ireply.“Giselle,wedon’thavemuchtime.IneedyoutodoasIsay.Andithastobefast.”
“Okay,”shesays.“Whateveryouask,Molly.”
“Iwantyoutopackyourbasicnecessitiesintoasinglebag.Iwantyoutocarryyourpassportandwhatevermoneyyouhaverightnexttoyourheart.AndIwantyoutorun.Notoutthefrontdoorsofthehotel,butoutthebackones.Rightnow.Doyouhearme?”
“Butwhataboutyou?Ican’tjustletyou—”
“Ifyouareafriend,youwilldothisforme.I’mnotaloneanymore.Ihaverealfriends,trueones.I’mgoingtobefine.I’maskingyoutodoasIsay.Gonow,Giselle.Run.”
Shekeepstalking,butIdon’tlistenbecauseI’vesaideverythingIneedtosay.Iknowit’srude,andifthisweren’tanextraordinarysituation,Icertainlywouldn’tbehaveinthiscurtandclippedmanner.Ihanguponherwithoutanotherword.
WhenIlookupfrommyphone,there’sacoffee-shopemployeestandingbymytable.She’sshiftingawkwardlyfromonefoottotheother.Irecognizethisbehavior.It’swhatIdowhenI’mwaitingformyturntospeak.
“Wasthatyou?”sheasks.ShepointstotheTVscreen.
HowamIsupposedtoanswer?
Honestyisthebestpolicy.
“Thatwasme.Yes.”
There’sapauseasshetakesthisin.
“Oh,IshouldaddthatIdidn’tdoit.MurderMr.Black,Imean.I’mnotakiller.Youhavenothingatalltoworryabout.”Itakeasipfrommymug.
Thecoffee-shopemployeestiffensandsidlesawayfrommytable.Sheturnsherbackonmeonlyonceshe’ssafelybehindthecounter.Iwatchassherushestothekitchen,wheresheisnodoubttalkingtohersupervisor,whowillsooncomeoutandlookatmewithwideeyes.Iwillrecognizetheexpressioninstantly.IwillknowthatitmeansfearbecauseI’mgettingbetteratthis—understandingthesubtlecues,thebodylanguagethatexpressesemotionalstates.
Themoreyoulive,themoreyoulearn.
Thatsamesupervisorwilllookmeupanddownandverifythatit’sme,theoneonthenews.Shewillcallthepolice.Thepolicewillsaysomethingtocalmherdown,tellhernottoworryorthatthenewsconferencehadthedetailswrong.
Allwillbewell.Intheend.
Itakeadeepbreath.Ienjoyanothercalmingsipoftea.IwaitandIwatchthehotelentrance.
Andthen:thereitisatlast—whatI’vebeenwaitingfor….
Thepoliceemergethroughtherevolvingdoorswithamaninfrontofthem—Rodney,hiswhiteshirtsleevesrolledup,makingiteasytoseehislovelyforearmsinhandcuffs.TrailingbehindhimisDetectiveStark.She’scarryinganavy-blueduffelbagthatIrecognizeimmediately.Thezipperishalf-open.Evenfromhere,Icantellit’snotfilledwithadishwasher’sclothesandpersonaleffectsbutwithbagscontainingwhitepowder.
Ipickuponeneatquarterofmyraisin-branmuffin.Howlovely.It’sfresh.Isn’titinterestingthatthisshopbakesgoodsinthelateafternoon?Youwouldn’tthinkmanypeoplewouldchoosemuffinsintheafternoon,butthereyouhaveitPerhapsthereareothersoutthereintheworldjustlikeme.
Peopleareamysterythatcanneverbesolved.
It’strue,Gran.Verytrueindeed.
Themuffinisdelightful.Itmeltsinmymouth.Itfeelsgoodtoeat.It’ssomethingsohuman,sosatisfying.It’ssomethingweallhavetodotolive,somethingeverypersononEarthhasincommon.Ieat,thereforeIam.
Rodney’sheadispusheddownintothebackseatofoneofthepolicecruisers.Severaloftheofficerswhoranintothehotelafewminutesagoarestandingguardatthebottomstair.Nervoushotelguestshuddleonthelanding,seekingcomfortandreassurancefromtheirdoorman.
DetectiveStarkclimbsthestairs,sayssomethingtoMr.Preston.Iseethembothlookmyway.There’snowaytheycanseeme,notwiththelate-afternoonlighthittingtheshopwindow.
DetectiveStarknodsmyway,almostimperceptibly,butstill,it’sanod.It’smeantforme.I’mcertainofit.WhatI’mnotcertainofiswhatitmeans,thissmallgesturefromafar.I’vedefinitelyhadmyfairshareoftroubleinterpretingDetectiveStark,soallguessesarejustthat—suppositions,notcertainties.
Ihaveneverbeenoneforgambling,mostlybecausemoneyhasbeensohardformetoearnandsoeasytolose.ButwereItoplaceabet,I’dsaythatDetectiveStark’snodcarriedaspecificmeaning.Andwhatitmeantwas:Iwaswrong.
Iwalkataleisurelypacebacktomyapartment.It’sfunnyhowwhenyou’refeelingtheimpactofstress,it’shardtoappreciatethesmall,inspiringthingsaroundyou—thebirdschirpingtheirlastlullabiesbeforepuffingupforanight’ssleep,thecotton-candyskyasthesunsets,thefactthatyou’reonyourwayhomeandunlikeeveryotherdayforthelastseveralmonths,whenyouopenyourfrontdoor,therewillbeafriendtherewaitingforyou.ItmaybethefirsttimesinceGran’sdeaththatIfeelsuchasenseofhope.
Everythingwillbeokayintheend.Ifit’snotokay,it’snottheend.
Mybuildingisupahead.Iquickenmypace.IknowJuanManuelwillbedesperatefornews,realnews,notjustathumbs-upemoji.
Iglidethroughthefrontdoorsandtakethestepstomyfloortwobytwo.Iturndownmyhallway,takeoutmykeyandenter.
“I’mhome!”Icallout.
JuanManuelrushesmywayandisstandingmuchcloserthanatrolley-lengthawayfromme,notthathisproximitybothersme.I’veneverhadanissuewithpeoplebeingnearme.Myissuehasalwaysbeentheopposite—thatpeoplekeeptheirdistance.
“Híjole,you’rehome,”hesays,hishandstogether.Heopensthecloset,grabstheshoecloth,andwaitsasItakeoffmyshoes.
“Diditwork?”heasks.“Didtheycatchthefox?”
“Yes,”Isay.“Isawitwithmyowneyes.TheycaughtRodney.”
“Oh,thankyou,thankyou.Youmusttellmeeverything.You’reokay?Tellme—you’reokay?”
“JuanManuel,I’mfine.I’mverywellindeed.”
“Good,”hesays,exhaling.“Verygood.”Hegrabsmyshoesandrubsatthesolesasifagenieweregoingtomaterializefromthem.Hisaggressivepolishingmercifullyconcludesandheputsmyshoesandtheclothawayinthecloset.Thenhehugsme.I’msosurprisedbythissuddendisplayofaffectionthatmyarmsflailoutandIforgetthatthecorrectthingtodoistohugback.JustwhenIrealizethis,heletsgo.
“Whatwasthatfor?”Iask.
“Forgettinghomesafe,”hesays.“Come.Tothekitchen.Ipreparedasmalldinnerforus.Itriedtohavehope,Molly,butIwasworried.Ithoughtmaybethepolicewouldcomeandtakemeawayormaybeyouwouldnevercomeback.Ihadbad,badthoughtsaboutifthey…”Hetrailsoff.
“Iftheywhat?”Iask.
“Rodneyandhismen,”hesays.“Ifthey…hurtyouthewaytheyhurtme.”
Ifeeltheroomtiltthirtydegreesattheverythought,butIbreathedeeplytosettlemyself.
“Come,”JuanManuelsays.
Ifollowhimtothekitchen,wherehe’slaidoutaspread.It’stheleftoversfromtheOliveGarden,puttogetherbeautifullyonplatesforeachofus.He’sevenlainGran’sblack-and-white-checkeredtableclothforadditionalItalianambience.Theeffectischarming.Ourtinykitchennookistransformedintoasceneonatouristpostcard.ItfeelsasthoughI’minadream,andittakesmeamomenttorecovermyvoice.
“Thislookssolovely,JuanManuel,”Imanagetosay.“Doyouknowthatforthefirsttimeinalongtime,IthinkIcaneatafullmeal?”
“Weeat,andyoutellmeeverything,”hesays.
Wesitdowntogether,butnosoonerthanhe’sseateddoeshespringtohisfeetoncemore.“Oh,Iforgot,”hesays.
HehurriestothelivingroomandreturnswithoneofGran’scandlesticksandamatchbox.“Canwelightthis?”heasks.“Iknowit’sspecial,buttodayisspecial,too,no?Today,theycatchtherightman?”
“Yes,theydrovehimawayinapolicecar,”Isay.“AndIhopethismeansgoodthingsforbothofus.”Evenasthewordsleavemylips,doubtcreepsin.Onethingistohavehope;anotherthingistotrustthatallwillendthewayitshould—forJuanManuel,andforme.
Heplacesthecandlebetweenus.Justaswe’reabouttopickupourforks,myphoneringsinmypocketandIpracticallyjumpoutofmychair.It’sCharlotte.Thankgoodness.
“Charlotte?”Isay.“ThisisMolly.MollyGray.”
“Yes,”sheanswers.“Iknow.Areyouokay?”
“Yes,”Isay.“I’mquitewell.Thankyouforasking.I’mhereathomewithJuanManuelandweareabouttotakeaTourofItaly.”
“I’msorry?”
“It’snotimportant.Canyoutellmehowthingswentinsidethehotel?Isawithappen,fromthecoffeeshop,butdidtheplanwork?DidtheycatchRodneyinflagrante?”
“Thingswentverywell,Molly.Listen,Ican’ttalkmuchnow.I’matthepolicestation.DetectiveStarkwantsmeinheroffice.YouandJuanManuelstayrightthere,okay?DadandIwillbeyourwayassoonaswecan.Thiswillprobablytakeacoupleofhours.AndIthinkyou’llbeverypleasedwiththeresults.”
“Okay,yes.Thankyou,Charlotte,”Isay.“GivemyregardstoDetectiveStark.”
“Youwantmeto…areyousure?”
“There’snoreasontobeimpolite.”
“Okay,Molly.I’llsayhellofromyou.”
“PleasetellherIcanreadnods.”
“Youcanwhat?”
“Justsaythat,please,exactlythat.Andthankyou.”
“Okay,”Charlottesays.Thensheendsthecall.Iputmyphoneaway.
“I’mterriblysorryfortheinterruption.I’llhaveyouknowthatit’snotmyusualpracticetotakecallsduringdinner.Idon’tintendtomakeahabitofit.”
“Molly,youworrytoomuchabout‘thisisright’and‘thisisnotright.’IjustwanttoknowwhatCharlottesaid.”
“Theycaughthimintheact.Rodney.”
“Enflagrantedelito?”
“Inflagrante,yes.”
AsmilespreadsacrossJuanManuel’sfaceandintohisdark-browneyes.Granoncetoldmethatarealsmilehappensintheeyes,somethingIneverreallyunderstooduntilrightnow.
“Molly,Ineverhadachancebeforetospeakwithjustyou,tosaysorry.Ineverwantedyoutobeinvolvedinanyofthis.”
Ihavepickedupmyfork,butIimmediatelyputitdown.
“JuanManuel,”Isay,“youtriedtokeepmeoutofthis.Youeventriedtowarnme.”
“MaybeIshouldhavetriedharder.MaybeIshouldhavetoldthepoliceeverything.TheproblemisIdon’ttrustthepolice.Whentheylookatpeoplelikeme,sometimesalltheyseeisbad.Andnotallpolicearegood,Molly.Howcanyoutellwhoiswho?IworriedifItalkedaboutthedrugsandthehotel,maybethingswouldgetevenworse—formeandforyou.”
“Yes,”Isay.“Iunderstand.I’vehadmyowntroublestellingwhoiswho.”
“AndRodneyandMr.Black,”hecontinues.“Inolongercarediftheykilledme.Butmymother?Myfamily?Iwassoscaredthey’dhurtthem.AndIwasscaredthey’dhurtyoutoo.Ithought,ifIjusttakethepain,ifIstayquiet,maybenooneelsegetshurt.”
Hiswristsareonthetable,nothiselbows.I’mstrugglingtofocusonhisfacebecauseallIcanseearethescarsonhisforearms,somehealedoverandoneortwostillraw.
IpointtoJuanManuel’sarms.“Wasithim?”Iask.“DidRodneydothattoyou?”
“NotRodney,”hesays.“Hisfriends.Thebigones.ButRodneygavetheorders.Mr.BlackburnsRodney,soRodneyburnsme.ThisiswhatIgetforcomplaining,forsayingIdon’twanttodoRodney’sdirtywork.AndforhavingafamilyIlovewhenhedoesn’thaveone.”
“It’ssowrong,whattheydidtoyou.”
“Yes,”hesays.“Itis.Andwhattheydidtoyou.”
“Yourarms.Theylooksore,”Isay.
“Theywere.Buttoday,they’reokay.Today,Ifeelalittlebitbetter.Idon’tevenknowwhatwillhappentome,butIstillfeelgoodbecauseRodneyiscaught.Andwehaveacandletolight.Andsothere’shope.”Hetakesamatchoutofthematchboxandlightsthecandle.Thenhesays,“Weshouldn’tletthefoodgetcold.Let’seat.”
Wepickupourforks,andweenjoythemeal.Ihaveampletime,notonlytochewthecorrectnumberoftimesbutalsotosavoreachandeverybite.Betweenbites,Irecounteverydetailoftheafternoon—howIsatatthecoffeeshop,howIwaitedandworried,howIsawmyselfonTV,howthecarsscreechedtoahalt,howitfelttoseeRodney’sheadbeingunceremoniouslypushedintothebackseatofacruiser.WhenItellhimaboutthewomanatthecoffeeshoprecognizingmefromthenews,hestartstolaughoutloud.Foramoment,I’mfrozen.Ican’ttellifhe’slaughingatmeorwithme.
“What’ssofunny?”Iask.
“Shethoughtyouwereamurderer!Inhershop.Drinkingteaandeatingacake!”
“Itwasn’tacake,”Isay.“Itwasamuffin,araisin-branmuffin.”
Helaughsevenharderatthat,andIdon’tknowwhy,butwhatbecomesclearisthathe’slaughingwithme.Suddenly,Ifindmyselflaughing,too,laughingataraisin-branmuffinwithoutevenknowingwhy.
Afterdinner,JuanManuelstartsclearingthedishes.
“No,”Isay.“Youwereverykindtoservedinner.I’llcleanup.”
“Notfair,”hereplies.“Youthinkyou’retheonlyonewholikestoclean?Whydoyoutakeawaymyjoy?”
Hesmilesagaininthatwayofhis,andhegrabsGran’sapronfrombehindthekitchendoor.It’sblue-and-pinkpaisleywithflowers,buthedoesn’tseemtocare.Heloopsitoverhisheadandhumstohimselfashetiesthestring.Ihaven’tseenthataprononanyoneinsolong;evenGranherselfwastooilltouseitinherfinalmonths.Andtoseeitbecomethree-dimensional,toseeabodygiveitshapeagain…Idon’tknowwhy,butitmakesmelookaway.
IturntothetableandgathertheremainingdishesasJuanManuelpreparesthesinkwithsoapywater.
Together,wemakequickprogressonthemess,andinjustafewminutes,theentirekitchenisperfectlygleaming.
“See?”hesays.“I’veworkedinkitchensallmylife—bigones,smallones,familyones—andattheendofthedaytoseeacleancountermakestheheartjumpwithjoy.”
“Jumpforjoy?”Isay.
“Ahyes.Jumpforjoy.”
IlookathimintheglowofGran’scandle,andit’sasifI’veneverreallylookedproperly.I’veseenthismaneverydayatworkformonthsonend,andnow,suddenly,heismorehandsomethanI’veevernoticedbefore.
“Doyoueverfeelinvisible?”Iask.“Atwork,Imean.Doyoueverfeellikepeopledon’tseeyou?”
He’stakingoffGran’sapron,replacingitonthehookbythedoor.
“Yes,ofcourse,”hesays.“I’musedtothisfeeling.Iknowwhatit’sliketobecompletelyinvisible,tofeelaloneinastrangeworld.Tobeafraidforthefuture.”
“Itmusthavebeenterribleforyou,”Isay.“TobeforcedtohelpRodneyeventhoughyouknewitwasabadthingtodo.”
“Sometimes,youmustdoonethingbadtodoanotherthinggood.It’snotalwayssoclear,soblackandwhitelikeeveryonethinks.Especiallywhenyoudon’thavechoices.”
Yes.He’sabsolutelyright.
“Tellmesomething,JuanManuel,”Isay.“Doyoulikepuzzles?Jigsawpuzzles?”
“DoIlikethem?Ilovethem.”
Justthen,there’saknockatthedoor.Ifeelmystomachsinkandfindmylegsaregluedtothefloor.
“Molly,canweopen?…Molly?”
“Yes,ofcourse,”Isay.
Iforcemylegstomove.Webothreachthedoor.Iunlockandopenit.
CharlotteandMr.Prestonarestandingthere,andbehindthem,DetectiveStark.
MykneesweakenandIbracemyselfagainstthedoorframe.
“It’sokay,Molly,”Mr.Prestonsays.“It’sokay.”
“Thedetectiveisherewithgoodnews,”Charlotteadds.
Ihearthewords,butI’munabletomove.JuanManuelisatmyside,keepingmeupright.IhearadooropendownthehallandthenextthingIseeisMr.RossostandingbehindDetectiveStark.It’slikeapartyatmyfrontdoor.
“Iknewit!”heyells.“Iknewyouwerenogood,MollyGray.Isawyouonthenews!Iwantyououtofthisbuilding,youhearme?Officer,getheroutofhere!”
Icanfeeltherushofshameburningintomycheeks,robbingmeofmyvoice.
DetectiveStarkturnstoMr.Rosso.“Actually,sir.Thatnewsreportwasmisinformed.There’llbeacorrectionissuedinaboutanhour.Mollyisentirelyinnocentofanywrongdoing.Infact,she’striedtohelpwiththiscase,andthatwasn’tunderstoodatfirst.That’swhyI’mhere.”
“Sir,”CharlottesaystoMr.Rosso,“asI’msureyou’reaware,youcan’tsimplyevicttenantswithnocause.HasMs.Graypaidtherent?”
“Late,butyes,shepaid,”hereplies.
“Ms.Grayisamodeltenantwhodoesnotdeserveyourharassment,”Charlottesays.“Also,DetectiveStark,”shesays,“didyounoticeanyelevatorinthis—”
“I’msorry,Imustgo,”Mr.Rossosays,andbeginstorushaway.
“Goodbye!”Charlottecallsafterhim.
Thehallisquiet.We’reallstandingatmydoor.Alleyesareonme.Idon’tknowwhattodo.
Mr.Prestonclearshisthroat.“Molly,wouldyoubesokindastoinviteusin?”
Mylegsrousethemselvesfromtheirtorpor.AsIregainmystrength,JuanManuel’sgripreleases.
“Myapologies,”Isay.“I’mnotaccustomedtoreceivingsomanyguests.Butit’snotunwelcomecompany.Docomein.”
JuanManuelstandslikeasentineltothesideofthedoor,greetingeachguestandaskingthemtotakeofftheirshoes,whichhewipesdownwithshakyhandsandneatlyplacesinthefrontcloset.
Allofmyguestswalkintothesittingroomandstandawkwardly.Whataretheywaitingfor?
“Please,”Isay.“Haveaseat.”
Mr.Prestongoestothekitchenandcomesbackwithtwochairs,whichheplacesacrossfromthesofa.
“Wouldanyoneliketea?”Iask.
“I’dmurderforacuppa,”Mr.Prestonsays.
“Dad!”
“Poorchoiceofwords.Apologies.”
“That’squiteallright,Mr.Preston,”Isay.IturntoDetectiveStark.“Weallmakemistakesfromtimetotime,don’twe,Detective?”
DetectiveStarkappearsveryinterestedinherownstockingedfeet.Itmustbeunusualforher,totakeoffherbootsonaworkcall,tohavehertendertootsiessoexposed.
“So,”Isay.“Whataboutthattea?”
“Iwillmakeit,”JuanManuelreplies.Hiseyesflittothedetectiveandthenhemakesahastyretreatintothekitchen.
Mr.PrestonoffersDetectiveStarkaseat,andsheobliges.Charlottesitsinherusualchair.Itakemyplaceonthesofa,withMr.PrestonbesidemeinthespotwhereGranalwayssat,before.
“Asyoucanimagine,”Isay,“I’mmostcurioustoknowwhathastranspiredinthelastfewhours.IwouldmostexpresslyappreciateknowingifIremainaccusedofmurder.”
Ihearaspoonclatteragainstthetiledfloorinthekitchen.
“Sorry!”JuanManuelcallsout.
“Allchargesagainstyouaredropped,”DetectiveStarksays.
“Allofthem,”Charlotterepeats.“Thedetectivewantedyoutocometothestationsoshecouldtellyouinperson,butIinsistedshefaceyouhereinstead.”
“Thankyou,”IsaytoCharlotte.
Sheleansforwardinherchair,lookingrightintomyeyes.“You’reinnocent,Molly.Youunderstand?Theyknowthatnow.”
Ihearthewords.Theyregisterinmyhead,butIdon’tquitebelievethem.Wordswithoutactioncanbedeceiving.
Mr.Prestongivesmykneealittlepat.“There,there.All’swellthatendswell.”It’sexactlywhatGranwouldhavesaid,wereshestillalive.
“Molly,”DetectiveStarksays,“I’mherebecausewe’regoingtoneedyourhelp.WereceivedacallfromMr.Snowthisafternoonurgingustocometothehotelimmediately.Hewastippingusofftonewdevelopments.”
JuanManuelemergesfromthekitchen,hisfacepaleanddrawn.He’scarryingGran’steatray,whichhesetsonthetable.Hebacksawaythen,severaltrolley-lengthsfromthedetective.
DetectiveStarkdoesn’tnotice.SheeyesthetrayandchoosesGran’scup,whichbothersmenoend,butnevermind.
“JuanManuel,”IsayasIstandup.“Pleasetakemyseat.”IwishIhadanotherchairtoofferhim,butalas,Idonot.
“No,no,”hesays.“Please,yousit,Molly.Istand.”
“Goodidea,”DetectiveStarksays.“Lesschanceofherfaintingagain.”
Isitbackdown.
Thedetectiveaddssomesugartohertea,stirs,thencontinues.“WhenweenteredtheformerBlacksuitetoday,thebartenderoftheSocialBar&Grill,RodneyStiles,andtwoofhisassociates,wereinside.”
“Twoimposinggentlemenwithaninterestingarrayoffacialtattoos?”Iask.
“Yes,youknowthem?”
“Ithoughttheywereguestsofthehotel,”Isay.“IwastoldtheywereJuanManuel’sfriends.”AssoonasIsayit,Iregretit.
It’sasthoughMr.Prestoncanreadmymind,forheimmediatelysays,“Don’tworry,Molly.ThedetectiveknowsallaboutRodneyandtheblackmailingagainstJuanManuel.Andthe…violentactsagainsthimtoo.”
JuanManuelisstandingmotionlessjustoutsideofthekitchen.Iknowwhatthisfeelslike—tobediscussedasifyou’renoteventhere.
“Molly,canyoutellthedetectivewhyyoucleanedroomsforRodneywheneverheasked?Justtellthedetectivethetruth,”Charlottesays.
IlooktoJuanManuel.Iwon’tsayanotherwordwithouthisconsent.“It’sokay,”hesays.“Youcantellthem.”
Ithenproceedtoexplaineverything,howRodneylied,thathetoldmeJuanManuelwashisfriendandthathewashomeless,howhehadmecleanroomswithoutmerealizingwhatitwasIwaswipingaway,howhedeceivedme—andhowheusedJuanManuel.
“Ididn’tknowwhatwasactuallygoingoninthoseroomseverynight.Ididn’trealizeJuanManuelwasbeingviolentlyassaulted.IthoughtIwashelpingafriend.”
“Whydidyoubelievehim,though?”DetectiveStarkasks.“WhydidyoubelieveRodneywhenitwasprettyobviousthatdrugswereinvolved?”
“What’sobviousforyou,Detective,isn’talwaysobviousforeveryoneelse.Asmygranusedtosay,‘We’reallthesameindifferentways.’Thetruthis,ItrustedRodney.Itrustedabadegg.”
JuanManuelremainsstatue-stilloutsideofthekitchen.
“RodneyusedmeandJuanManueltomakehimselfinvisible,”Isay.“Iseethatnow.”
“You’reright,”DetectiveStarkreplies.“We’vecaughthim,though.Wefoundlargequantitiesofbenzodiazepineandcocaineinthatsuite.Itwasliterallyrightinhishands.”
IthinkofGiselle’s“benzfriends”inanunmarkedbottle,mostlikelysuppliedbyRodney.
“We’vechargedhimwithseveraldrug-relatedoffenses,possessionofanillegalfirearm,andthreateninganofficer.”
“Threateninganofficer?”Isay.
“Hepulledahandgunwhenthedoorofthesuiteopened.Samemakeandmodelastheonewefoundinyourvacuum,Molly.”
It’shardtoimagine—Rodneyinhiswhiteshirtwiththesleevesrolled,pullingagunratherthanapintofbeeratthebar.
It’sJuanManuelwhonoticeswhatIdonot.Alleyesturntohimashespeaks.“Youmentionedmanycharges.Butyounevermentionedmurder.”
DetectiveStarknods.“WehavealsochargedRodneywiththefirst-degreemurderofMr.Black.Buttobeperfectlyhonest,we’regoingtoneedyourhelptomakethatchargestick.Therearestillafewthingswecan’tfigureout.”
“Suchas?”Charlotteprompts.
“WhenwefirstwentintotheBlacksuitethedayyoufoundhimdead,Molly,therewerenotracesofRodney’sfingerprintsanywhereinthatwholesuite.Infact,therewerehardlyanyprintsanywhere.AndtracesofyourcleaningsolutionwerefoundonMr.Black’sneck.”
“BecauseIcheckedhispulse.Because—”
“Yes.Weknow,Molly.Weknowyoudidn’tkillhim.”
Itoccurstomethen.“It’smyfault.”
Everyonelooksmyway.
“Whatcouldyoupossiblymeanbythat?”Mr.Prestonasks.
“Thefactthatyoucouldn’tfindRodney’sprintsanywhere.WhenIcleanaroom,Ileaveitinastateofperfection.IfRodneyeverenteredthatroomandleftprintsbehind,Iwouldhavewipedthemawaywithoutevenknowingit.I’magoodmaid.Maybetoogood.”
“Youmayberight,”DetectiveStarksays.Shesmilesthen,butnotafullsmile,notthekindthatreachestheeyes.“We’rewonderingifyouknowanythingaboutGiselleBlack’swhereabouts.AfterwearrestedRodney,werushedtoherhotelroom,butshewasalreadygone.Seemsshesawusambushthehotelandtookoffinarealhurry.SheleftanoteonRegencyGrandstationery.”
“Whatdiditsay?”Iask.
“Itsaid,‘AskMollytheMaid.She’lltellyou.Ididn’tdoit.RodneyandCharles=BFFs.’?”
“BFFs?”Isay.
“Bestfriendsforever,”Charlotteoffers.“She’ssayingRodneyandCharleswereaccomplices.”
“Yes,”saysJuanManuel.“Theywereaccomplices.”Alleyesturnhisway.Hecontinuestospeak.“RodneyandMr.Blacktalkedalotonthephone.Sometimes,theyargued.Aboutmoney.Aboutshipmentsandterritoriesanddeals.NobodythinksIhearanything,butIdo.”
ThedetectiveturnsherchairtofaceJuanManuel.“We’dbeveryinterestedintakingyourwitnessstatement,”shesays.
AlookofalarmcrossesJuanManuel’sface.
“They’renotgoingtochargeyou,”Charlottesays.“Ordeportyou.Theyknowyou’reavictimofcrime.Andtheyneedyourhelptotrytheperpetrator.”
“That’sright,”thedetectivesays.“WeunderstandthatyouwerethreatenedandcoercedtocooperatewithRodney,thatyousuffered…physicalassault.Andweknowyouhadaworkpermitthatranout.”
“Itdidn’tjust‘runout,’?”JuanManuelsays.“ItranintoRodney.”
DetectiveStarkcocksherheadtooneside.“What’sthatsupposedtomean?”
JuanManuelexplainshowRodneyputhimintouchwithanimmigrationlawyer,onlytohavehismoneydisappearandhispapersnevermaterialize.
“This‘lawyer.’Youhavehisname?”
JuanManuelnods.
Thedetectiveshakesherhead.“Lookslikewehaveanothercasetopursue.”
Charlottejumpsin.“JuanManuel,ifyousupportusasakeywitnessinthecaseagainstRodney,maybewecanalsocatchthisso-calledlawyer.Catchhimbeforehedoesthistomorepeople.”
“Nooneelseshouldgothroughthis,”JuanManuelsays.
“That’sright.AndJuanManuel,”Charlottesays.“MypartnerGarcíahandlesimmigrationlawinourfirm.Ifyouwant,Icanintroduceyoutohim,seeifhecangetyourworkpermitreinstated.”
“Iwouldliketotalktohim,yes,”JuanManuelsays.“Ihavemanyconcerns—Mr.Snow,foronething.HeknowswhatIdid.HeknowsIstayedquietwhenIshouldhavetalked.Hewillfiremeforsure.”
“Hewon’t,”Mr.Prestonsays.“Heneedsyounowmorethanever.”
“Wealldo,”DetectiveStarkadds.“WeneedyoutocorroboratethatRodneyandMr.Blackwererunningacartelthroughthehotel,thattheywereusingandabusingyou.Withyourhelp,wemightalsobeabletofigureoutwhatpushedRodneytocommitmurder.Hemaintainshe’sinnocentonthatcharge.Admitstothedrugcharges,butnottomurder.Notyet.”
JuanManuelisquietforamoment.Thenhesays,“IwillhelpyouifIcan.”
“Thankyou,”DetectiveStarksays.“AndMolly,isthereanythingelseyoucantellusaboutGiselle?Doyouhaveanyideawhereshecouldbe?”
“She’llappear,whenshe’sready,”Isay.
“Let’shope,”DetectiveStarksays.
IimagineGiselleonafarawaywhite-sandbeach,clickingthroughnewsfeedsonherphoneandlearningofRodney’sarrest.She’llfindoutthatI’mnolongerasuspect.Whatwillshedothen?Willshereachouttothepolice?Orwillsheputitallbehindher?Willshegriftherwayintoanotherrichman’swalletorwillsheactuallygrowandchange?
Ihaveneverbeenaverygoodjudgeofcharacter.Iseethetruthtoolate.It’slikeJuanManuelsaid:sometimes,youhavetodoonethingbadtodoanotherthinggood.Perhapsthistime,Gisellewilldoonethinggood.Orperhapsnot.
“Whathappensnow?”Iask.“ForJuanManuel?Forme?”
“Well,”DetectiveStarksays.“You’refree.Allchargesaredropped.”
“ButamIstillfired?”Iask.TheverythoughtofitmakesmefeellikeI’mfallingoffaclifftomydoom.
“No,Molly,”Mr.Prestonsays.“Youwon’tloseyourjob.Infact,Mr.SnowwilltalktoyouandtoJuanManuelaboutthathimself.”
“Really?”Isay.“Hewon’tfireeitherofus?”
“Hesaidyou’rebothmodelworkersandthatyouexemplifywhatitmeanstobeRegencyGrandemployees,”Mr.Prestonsays.
“Butwhataboutthetrial?”Iask.
“Thatwon’tbeforalongwhile,”Charlottereplies.“We’llprepareforit,andthatwilltakemanymonths.Buthopefully,byworkingwithDetectiveStarkandherteam,we’llbeabletoputRodneybehindbarsforalongtime.”
“Thatseemsappropriate,”Isay.“He’saliar,anabuser,andacheat.”
“He’salsoamurderer,”Mr.Prestonadds.
Isaynothing.
“Detective,”Charlottesays,“I’msensingmyclientistired.It’sbeenquiteadayforher,giventhatthismorningshewaswronglyaccusedofmurderandnowshe’shavingteainherlivingroomwithheraccuser.Wasthereanythingelseyouwantedtosaytoher?”
DetectiveStarkclearsherthroat.“JustthatI,uh,regretthatyouwere…detained.”
“That’sverykindofyou,Detective,”Isay.“Ihopeyou’velearnedanimportantlesson.”
Thedetectiveshiftsinherchairasifshe’sseatedonasharppin.“I’msorry?”shesays.
“Perhapsyoujumpedtosomeconclusionsaboutme.Youexpectedcertainreactionsthatyouconsidernormal,andwhenyoudidn’tseethosereactions,youassumedIwasguilty.YoumadeanA-S-SoutofUandMe.”
“That’sonewaytoputit,”shesays.
“Mygranalwayssaidthattoliveistolearn.Maybenexttimeyou’llavoidassumptions.”
“We’reallthesameindifferentways,”JuanManueladds.
“Huh,”shesays.“Isuppose.”
Withthatshestands,thanksusforourtime,putsonherboots,andleaves.
Oncethedoorclicksshutbehindher,Islidetherustydeadboltacrossitandbreatheahugesighofrelief.
Iturnaroundandinsteadofemptiness,inmylivingroomIseethefacesofmythreefriends.Theyareallsmiling,thekindofsmilesthatreachtheireyes.Forthefirsttimeinmylife,IthinkIunderstandwhatatruefriendis.Itisn’tjustsomeonewholikesyou;it’ssomeonewillingtotakeactiononyourbehalf.
“Well?”Mr.Prestonsays.“ThatdetectivejustatesomuchhumblepieIthinkshemightexplode.Howdoesitfeel,Molly?”
I’mrelievedbeyondmeasure,butthere’smoretoitthanthat.“I…I’mnotquitecertainwhatIdidtodeservethis,”Isay.
“Youdidn’tdeserveanyofit,”Charlottesays.“You’reinnocent.”
“Idon’tmeanthecrimes.Imeanthekindnessthethreeofyouhaveshownme,fornogoodreason.”
“There’salwaysareasonforkindness,”JuanManuelsays.
“You’reright,”Mr.Prestonsays.“Andyouknowwhousedtosaythattomeallthetime?”
“No,”Isay.
“Yourgoodol’gran.”
“Sheneverdidtellmehowyoutwokneweachother,”Isay.
“No,Iexpectshedidn’t,”hereplies.Hetakesadeepbreath.“Wewereengaged,onceuponatime.”
“Youwerewhat?”Charlottesays.
“That’sright,Ihadalifebeforeyou,mydear,alifeyouknowverylittleabout.”
“Ican’tbelievethis,”Charlottesays.“I’mlearningthisonlynow?”
“Sowhathappened?”JuanManuelasks.Hesettleshimselfintothedetective’semptychair.
“Yourgrandmother,Flora,shewasawonderfullady,Molly.Shewaskindandsensitive.Shewassodifferentfromothergirlsherage,andIwascompletelybesotted.Iproposedtoherwhenwewerebothsixteen,andshesaidyes.Butherparentswouldn’tallowit.Theywerewell-to-do,youknow.Shewasmilesabovemystation,yetsheneveractedthatway.”
I’msurprisedbywhatI’mhearing,utterlyshocked.ButperhapsIshouldhaveknownthatGranhadhersecrets.Wealldo,allofus.
“Oh,howyourgranlovedyou,Molly,”Mr.Prestonsays.“Morethanyou’lleverknow.”
“Andyoukeptintouchwithherovertheyears?”Iask.
“Yes.Shewasfriendlywithmywife,Mary.Andfromtimetotime,whenFlorawasintrouble,she’dcallme.Buttherealtroublehappenedearly.”
“Whatdoyoumean?”Iask.
“Diditeveroccurtoyouthatyouhadagrandfather?”
“Yes,”Isay.“Grancalledhima‘fly-by-nighttoo.’?”
“Didshe?”hesays.“Hewasmanythings,butneverthat.He’dneverhaveflownawayifhe’dhadachoice.Hewasforced.Anyhow,hewasknowntome.Afriend,youcouldsay.Andyouknowhowthingshappenwhenloveisfreshandtheblushisstillontherose.”Mr.Prestonpausestoclearhisthroat.“Asitturnsout,Florawaswithchild.Andwhenshecouldhideitnolongerandherparentsfoundout,that’swhentheyreallyturnedtheirbacksonher,forgood.Poorgirl.Shewasn’tyetseventeen.Shewasjustachildsecretlyrunningawaywithachildofherown.That’swhyshebecameadomestic.”
It’shardtoimagine,Granonherownlikethat,losingeverything,everyone.Ifeelaheavinessonmyshoulders,asadnessthatIcan’tquitename.
“Shewasbright,yourgran.Couldhavewonscholarshipstoanyschool,”Mr.Prestonsays.“Butinthosedays,asanunwedwomanwithchild,saygoodbyetoeducation.”
“Now,waitjustasecond,Dad,”Charlottesays.“Somethingdoesn’tmakesense.Whowasthisfriendofyours?Andwhereishenow?”
“ThelastIheard,hehasafamilyofhisownthathelovesverymuch.Buthe’sneverforgottenFlora.Never.”
Charlotte’sheadcockstotheside.SheeyesherfatherinafunnywaythatIdon’tquiteunderstand.“Dad?”shesays.“Isthereanythingelseyouwanttotellme?”
“Mydeargirl,”hesays.“IthinkI’vesaidquiteenoughalready.”
“Didyouknowmymothertoo?”Iaskhim.
“Yes.Now,shewasatruefly-by-night,I’mafraid.Yourgranhadmetrytotalksomesenseintoherwhensheshackedupwiththewrongfellow.Iwenttoseeher,triedtopryherfromtheflophouseshewaslivingin,butshewouldn’tlisten.Yourpoorgran,thepainofthat…oflosingachildthewayshedid…”Mr.Preston’seyesfillwithtears.Charlottegrabshishand.
“Yourgranwassogood,thatshewas,”Mr.Prestonsays.“WhenmyMarywasstrugglingneartheend,yourgrancametoherrescue.”
“Whatdoyoumean?”Iask.
“MarywasinextremepainandsowasI.Isatbyherbedsideholdingherhand,saying,‘Pleasedon’tgo.Notyet.’Florawatcheditall,thendrewmeaside.Shesaid,‘Don’tyousee?Shewon’tleaveyouuntilyoutellherit’stime.’?”
That’sexactlywhatGranwouldhavesaid.Ihearherwordsechoinmyhead.“Thenwhathappened?”Iask.
“ItoldMaryIlovedherandIdidasFlorasaid.That’sallmywifeneededtorestinpeace.”
Mr.Prestoncan’tholdbackhissobsanylonger.
“Youdidtherightthing,Dad,”Charlottesays.“Momwassuffering.”
“Ialwayswantedtorepayyourgran,forshowingmetheway.”
“Youhaverepaidher,Mr.Preston,”Isay.“You’vecometomyaid,andGranwouldbegrateful.”
“Ohno,that’snotme,”Mr.Prestonsays.“That’sCharlotte.”
“No,Dad.Youinsistedonthis.Youconvincedmewehadtohelpthisyoungmaidyouworkedwith.IthinkI’mstartingtoseewhyitwassoimportanttoyou.”
“Afriendinneedisafriendindeed,”Isay“Granthanksyou.Allofyou.Ifshewerehere,she’dsayitherself.”
Withthat,Mr.Prestonstands,asdoesCharlotte.“Well,let’snotgettoosoggythen,”hesaysashewipeshischeeks.“Webestbegoing.”
“It’sbeenalongday,”Charlotteadds.“JuanManuel,webroughtyourrealovernightbagfromyourlockeratthehotel.It’sbythefrontcloset.”
“Thankyou,”hesays.
Itstrikesmesuddenly,anurgentfeeling.Idon’twantthemtoleave.Whatiftheywalkoutofmylifeandnevercomeback?It’snotthefirsttimethathashappened.Thethoughtputsmeinstantlyonedge.
“WillIbeseeingyouagain?”Iask.Ican’tkeeptheanxietyoutofmyvoice
Mr.Prestonchuckles.“Whetheryoulikeitornot,Molly.”
“You’llbeseeingusplenty,”Charlottereplies.“Wehaveacasetoprepare.”
“Andbesidesthecase,you’restuckwithus,Molly.Youknow,I’mold,andI’mawidowerwho’sbecomeabitsetinmyways.Itmayseemodd,butthishasbeengoodforme.Allofthis.Allofyou.Itfeelslike…”
“Family?”JuanManuelsuggests.
“Yes,”Mr.Prestonsays.“That’sexactlywhatitfeelslike.”
“Youknow,”JuanManuelsays,“inmyfamily,theruleisthatonSundays,weallhavedinnertogether.That’sthethingImissthemostfrombackhome.”
“That’seasilyremedied,”Isay.“Charlotte,Mr.Preston,wouldyoubesokindastojoinusfordinnerthisSunday?”
“I’llcook!”JuanManuelsays.“You’veprobablyneverhadrealMexicanfood,thekindmymothermakes.I’llmaketheTourofMexico.Oh,you’llloveit.”
Mr.PrestonlookstoCharlotte.Shenods.
“We’llbringdessert,”Mr.Prestonsays.
“Andabottleofchampagnetocelebrate,”Charlotteadds.
Atthedoorway,IstandandwaitasCharlotteandMr.Prestonputontheirshoes.I’mnotsureoftheproperetiquetteforsayinggoodbyetotwopeoplewhohavejustsavedyoufromlifeinprison.
“Well,whatareyouwaitingfor?”Mr.Prestonsays.“Giveyourol’friendahug.”
IdoasI’mtoldandamsurprisedbythesensation—IfeellikeGoldilockshuggingPapaBear.
IhugCharlotteaswell,andit’spleasantbutentirelydifferent,likecaressingthewingofabutterfly.
Theyleavearminarm,andIclosethedoorbehindthem.JuanManuelstandsintheentryway,shiftingfromfoottofoot.
“Areyousure,Molly,thatyou’reokaywithmestayingheretonight?”
“Yes,”Isay.“Justfortonight.”Thewordsthatfollowcascadeoutofmymouth.“You’lltakemyroom,andI’lltakeGran’sroom.I’llchangethesheetsrightnow.Ialwaysbleachandironmysheetsandkeeptwopairsattheready,andyoucanrestassuredthatthebathroomissanitaryanddisinfectedonaregularbasis.Andifyoudorequireanyextraamenities,suchasatoothbrushorsoap,I’mmostcertainthatI—”
“Molly,it’sgood.I’mfine.It’sokay.”
Myverbalrushcomestoahalt.“I’mnotterriblygoodatthis.Iknowhowtotreatguestsatthehotel,butnotinmyownhome.”
“Youdon’thavetotreatmeinanyspecialway.I’lljusttrytobecleanandquiet,andtohelpoutwhereIcan.Youlikebreakfast?”
“Yes,Ilikebreakfast.”
“Good,”hesays.“Metoo.”
Itrytochangethesheetsinmyroombymyself,butJuanManuelwillhavenoneofit.WepeelbackGran’slone-starquiltandremovethesheets,replacingthemwithfreshones.Wedoittogetherashetellsmestoriesofhisthree-year-oldnephewbackhome,Teodoro,whoalwaysjumpedonthebedwhenhewastryingtomakeit.Whenhetellshisstories,theycometolifeinmymind.Icanseethatlittleboyjumpingandplaying.It’slikehe’srighttherewithus.
Whenwearedone,JuanManuelgoesquiet.“Okay.I’llgetreadyforbednow,Molly.”
“Doyouneedanythingelse?PerhapsacupofOvaltine,orsometoiletriesforthebath?”
“No.Thankyou.”
“Verywell,”IsayasIleavetheroom.“Goodnight.”
“Goodnight,MissMolly,”hereplies,andthenquietlyclosesmybedroomdoor.
Ipaddownthehallwaytothewashroom.Ichangeintomypajamas.Ibrushmyteethslowly.Ising“HappyBirthday”threetimestomakesurethatI’vebrushedeverylastmolarproperly.
Iwashmyface,usethetoilet,scrubmyhands.ItaketheWindexfromunderthesinkanddoaquickpolishofthemirror.ThereIam,shiningbackatmyself,spotless.Clean.
There’snopointdallyinganylonger.
It’stime.
IwalkdownthehallwayandstandinfrontofGran’sdoor.IrememberthelasttimeIclosedthisdoor,afterthecoronerandhisaideswheeledoutGran’sbody,afterIcleanedtheroomfromtoptobottom,afterIwashedhersheetsandremadethebed,afterIfluffedherpillowsanddustedeverylastoneofhertrinkets,afterItookherhousesweateroffthehookbehindthedoor,thelastremainingstitchofherclothingIhadnotwashedandheldittomyfacetobreatheinthevestigesofherbeforeputtingeventhatintothehamper.Thesharpclickofthisdoorclosingwasasfinalasdeathitself.
Ireachoutandputmyhandonthedoorknob.Iturnit.Iopenit.TheroomisexactlyasIleftit.Gran’sRoyalDoultonfigurinesdancestaticallyinpetticoatsonherbureau.Therufflesonherbaby-bluebedskirtsremainpristine.Herpillowsareplumpandwrinkle-free.
“OhGran,”Isay.Ifeelit,atidalwaveofgrief,awavesostrongthatitcarriesmetoherbed.Iliedownonit,feelingsuddenlylikeI’monaliferaftlostatsea.Ihugoneofherpillows,putittomyface,butI’vewashedittoowell.There’snoscentofherleft.Sheisgone.
Onthelastdayofherlife,Isatwithher.ShewaslyingwhereIamnow.I’dcarriedthechairbythefrontdoor—theonewithherserenitypillowonit—andsetitupbesideher.Aweekearlier,I’dmovedthetelevision,settingituponherchestofdrawerssoshecouldwatchnatureshowsandNationalGeographicwhileIwasatwork.Ididn’twanttoleaveheralone,notevenforafewhours.Iknewshewasingreatpain,thoughshetookgreatpainstodenyit.
“Deargirl,theyneedyouatwork.You’reanimportantpartofthehive.I’mfinehere.I’vegotmytea,andmypills.AndmyColumbo.”
Asthedayspassed,hercolorchanged.Shestoppedhummingsongstoherself.Eveninthemorning,shewasquieter,eachthoughtbelabored,eachtriptothebathroomanepicjourney.
Itrieddesperatelytomakeherseereason.“Gran,weneedtocallanambulance.Weneedtogetyoutoahospital.”
She’dshakeherheadslowly,hergray,featherytuftstremblingonthepillow.“Noneed.Iamcontent.Ihavemypillsforthepain.I’mwhereIwanttobe.Home,sweethome.”
“Butmaybetheycandosomething.Maybethedoctorscan—”
“Shhhh,”shesaidwheneverIrefusedtolisten.“Wemadeapromise,youandI.Andwhatdidweagreeaboutpromises?”
“Promisesaremeanttobekept.”
“Yes,”shesaid.“That’smygirl.”
Onthelastday,herpainwasworsethanever.Itriedyetagaintoconvincehertogotothehospital,tonoavail.
“Columboiscomingon,”shesaid.
Iturnedonthetelevision,andwewatchedtheepisode,orratherIwatchedandsheclosedhereyes,herhandsgrippingthebedsheets.
“I’mlistening,”shesaid,hervoiceamerewhisper.“Bemyeyes.TellmewhatIneedtosee.”
Iwatchedthescreenandnarratedtheaction.Columbowasinterviewingatrophywifewhodidn’tseemterriblydistraughttolearnthathermillionairehusbandwasprobablynotthemainsuspectinamurdercase.Idescribedtherestauranttheywerein,thegreentablecloth,thewayherheadmoved,thewayshefidgetedatthetable.ItoldGranwhenIknewColumbowasontoher,thatlookthatshowedheknewthetruthbeforeanyoneelse.
“Yes,”shesaid.“Verygood.You’relearningexpressions.”
Halfwaythroughtheepisode,Granbecameagitated.Thepainwassobadthatshewaswincingandtearswererunningdownherface.
“Gran?HowcanIhelp?WhatcanIdo?”
Icouldhearherlaboredbreath.Therewasacatchtoeachintake,likewatergurglinginadrain.
“Molly,”shesaid.“It’stime.”
Columbocontinuedhisinvestigationsinthebackground.Hewasontothewife.Thepieceswerecomingtogether.Iturnedthevolumedown.
“No,Gran.No,Ican’t.”
“Yes,”shesaid.“Youpromised.”
Iprotested.Itriedtoreason.Ibeggedhertoplease,please,pleaseletmecallthehospital.
Shewaitedformystormtopass.Andwhenitdid,shesaiditagain.
“Makemeacupoftea.It’stime.”
IwassogratefultohaveinstructionthatIleapedtomyfeet.Irushedtothekitchenandhadherteaready,inherfavoritecup—theonewiththeprettycottagescene—inrecordtime.
Itookitbacktoherandsetitonthebedsidetable.Iputapillowunderneathhersoshewasmoreupright,butnomatterhowgentlyItouchedher,shemoanedpitifully,likeananimalinatrap.
“Mypills,”shesaid.“Whatever’sleftofthem.”
“Itwon’twork,Gran,”Isaid.“Therearen’tenough.Nextweekwe’llhavemore.”Ibeggedheryetagain.Ipleaded.
“Promises…”
Shenolongerhadenoughbreathtocompletethephrase.
Intheend,Irelented.Iopenedthebottleandputitontheedgeofhersaucer.Ibroughttheteacuptoherhands.
“Putthemin,”shesaid.
“Gran—”
“Please.”
Iemptiedtherestofthepainkillersintohertea—fourpills,that’sall.Notenough.Itwouldbefivedaysbeforewecouldfillanotherprescription,fivedaysofagony.
IlookedatGranthroughmytears.Sheblinkedandlookedatthespoononthesaucer.
Itookitandstirredandstirred,untilaminutelatersheblinkedagain.Istoppedstirring.
Withgreateffort,sheleanedforward,enoughthatIcouldputthecuptohergraylips.EvenasIfedhertheliquid,Ibegged.“Don’tdrink.Don’t…”
Butshedid.Shedrankthewholething.
“Delightful,”shewhisperedwhenshewasdone.Thensheeasedherselfbackonherpillows.Sheputherhandstoherchest.Herlipsmoved.Shewasspeaking.Ihadtocomerightuptoherlipstohear.
“Iloveyou,mydeargirl,”shesaid.“Youknowwhattodo.”
“Gran,”Isaid.“Ican’t!”
ButIcouldseeit.Icouldseeherbodystiffen,thepainseizingheroncemore.Herbreathingbecameevenmoreshallowandtherattlewaslouder,likeadrum.
We’ddiscussedit.I’dpromised.Shewasalwayssorational,sological,andIcouldnotdenyherthislastwish.Iknewitwaswhatshewanted.Shedidnotdeservetosuffer.
GodgrantmetheserenitytoacceptthethingsIcannotchange,thecouragetochangethethingsIcan,andthewisdomtoknowthedifference.
Itookherserenitypillowfrombehindmeonthechair.IputthepillowoverGran’sfaceandhelditthere.
Icouldn’tlookatthepillow.Iconcentratedinsteadonherhands,aworker’shands,amaid’shands,handssomuchlikemine—clean,nailstrimmedshort,callusedknuckles,theskinthinandpapery,theblueriversbeneaththemreceding,theirflowebbing.Once,theyextendedout,herfingersgrasping,reaching,butitwastoolate.We’ddecided.Beforetheycouldreachanything,theyrelaxed.Theyletgo.
Itdidn’ttakelong.Whenallwassilent,Imovedthepillowaway.Ihuggedittomychestwithallmystrength.
Thereshewas,mygran.Shelookedforalltheworldasthoughshewasfastasleep,hereyesclosed,hermouthslightlyopen,herfaceserene.Atrest.
Now,asIlieawakeinherbedoverninemonthslater,withJuanManueljustdownthehall,Ithinkofeverythingthathascometopass,ofthesepastfewdaysthathaveturnedmylifeupsidedown.
“Gran,Imissyousomuch.AndIcan’tbelieveI’llneverseeyouagain.”
Countyourblessings.
“Yes,Gran,Iwill,”Isaidoutloud.“It’ssomuchbetterthancountingsheep.”
Iwaketothefamiliarsoundsandsmellsofbreakfastbeingmade—thecoffeebrewing,theshufflingofslippersinthekitchen.Eventhesoundofhumming.
Butit’snotGran.
AndI’mnotinmyownbed.I’minhers.
Itallcomesbacktome.
Riseandshine,deargirl.It’sanewday.
Ishiftoutofbed,slipmyfeetintoslippers,andputGran’shousecoatonovermypajamas.Itiptoetothebathroomtofreshenupandthenwalktothekitchen.
Thereheis,JuanManuel.Hehasshowered—hishairisstillwet.He’shumminghislittletune,clatteringdishesandscramblingeggsonthestovetop.
“Goodmorning!”hesays,lookingupfromthepan.“Ihopeyoudon’tmind.Irantothestoreandcamebackveryquiet.Youdidn’thaveeggs.Andthisbread?”Hepointstothecrumpetsonthecounter.“Formeitisstrange.Idon’tknowhowtocookit.Toomanyholes.”
“Theyarecrumpets,”Isay.“Andthey’redelicious.Youtoastthem,thenaddbutterandmarmalade.”
Igrabthebagandpoptwointothetoaster.
“Ihopeyoudon’tmindthatImakebreakfast.”
“Notatall,”Isay.“It’sverykindofyou.”
“Iboughtsomecoffee.Ilikecoffeeinthemorning.Withmilk.Andeggs.Andtortilla,buttoday,Itrysomethingnew—Itryyourholeycrumb-pets.”
Together,webustlearoundthekitchengettingbreakfastready.It’sincrediblystrange,tomovearoundthekitchenlikethiswithsomeonewhoisn’tGran,butwe’redoneinaflash.WesitandIprepareourcrumpetswithbutterandmarmalade.
“Doyoumind?Iwashedmyhands.”
“Ifthere’sanyoneIknowwhoisclean,it’syou,”JuanManuelsays.
Ismileatthecompliment.“Thankyouverymuch.”
Theeggsareunusuallydelicious.He’spreparedthemwithsomekindofsaucethathasabitofspice.It’stangyanddelightful.Itgoesremarkablywellwiththemarmaladeandcrumpets.I’mabletosavoreverybiteinsilencebecauseheischatteringonandon,likeamorningsparrow.He’sholdinghisforkashespeaks,andIcan’thelpbutmarvelathowhekeepshiselbowspolitelyoffthetable.
“IFaceTimedwithmyfamilythismorning.Theydon’tknowaboutalltheotherstuff,andIwon’ttellthem.ButtheydoknowIstayedherelastnightwithafriend.Ishowedthemyourroom,yourkitchen,yourlivingroom.Yourphoto.”Hetakesasipofcoffee.“Ihopeyoudon’tmind.”
Ican’tanswerbecausemymouthisfull,andit’srudetospeakwithyourmouthfull.ButIdon’tmind.Idon’tmindatall.
“Oh,mycousin,Fernando?Hisdaughteristurningfifteennextmonth.Ican’tevenbelieveit!Inmycountry,whenagirlturnsfifteen,there’sabigfamilyparty,andwehiremariachis,andwemakeabigmeal,andwedanceallnight.Mymom,shehadacold,butnowshe’sallbetter.ThisSunday,they’lltakeafamilypictureatdinnerandthey’llsendittous.You’llseeeveryone.Andmynephew,Teodoro.Hewenttothefarmandrodeadonkey.Nowallhedoesispretendtobeadonkey.Sofunny….Oh,Imissthemsomuch.”
Iswallowthelastofmycrumpetandwashitdownwithsomecoffee.
“Itmustbesodifficult,”Isay.“SeeingthemonlythroughFaceTime.”
“They’refaraway,”hereplies.“Butthey’realsostillhere.”
IthinkofhisfatherandofGran.“Yes,”Isay.“Youareright.”
Beforewecantalkmore,mycellphonerings.I’veleftitinthelivingroom.
“Excuseme,”Isay.“Idon’tnormallytakecallsduringmeals,but—”
“Iknow,Iknow,”hereplies.
Iwalktothesittingroomandgrabmyphone.
“Hello?”Isay.“ThisisMolly.HowmayIbeofassistance?”
“Molly,it’sMr.Snow.”
“Yes,hello.”
“Howareyou?”heasks.
“Iamwell.Thankyouforasking.Andyou?”
“It’sbeenatryingtime.AndIoweyouanapology.Thepoliceledmetobelievethingsaboutyouthatweresimplynottrue.Ishouldhaveknownbetter,Molly.Ourroomscoulduseyourcare,andI’mhopingyou’llbecomingbacktoworkinthenearfuture.”
I’mpleasedtohearthis,extremelypleased.“I’mafraidIcan’tmakeittoworkjustthisminute.I’mrightinthemiddleofbreakfast.”
“Ohno.Ididn’texpectyoutocomeinimmediately.Imeant,whenyou’reready.Youtakeallthetimeyouneed,ofcourse.”
“How’stomorrow?”Iask.
IcanhearMr.Snowbreatheasighofrelief.“Thatwouldbemostexcellent,Molly.Cherylhasunfortunatelydeclaredherselfunwell,andtheothermaidsaredoingdoubleduty.Theymissyouterriblyandthey’reworriedaboutyou.They’llbesogladtohearyou’recomingback.”
“Pleasesendthemmyregards,”Isay.
Somethingisnigglingatme,andIdecidetovoiceit.“Mr.Snow,”Isay.“Itwasbroughttomyattentionthatsomeofmycoworkersfindmetobe…odd.Ibelieveonetermusedwas‘weirdo.’I’mwonderingifyoumightprovidemewithyouropiniononthismatter.”
Mr.Snowisquietformoment.Thenhesays,“Myopinionisthatsomeofyourcolleaguesoughttogrowup.Wearerunningahotel,notapreschool.Myopinionisthatyou’reoneofakindinalltherightways.Andyou’rethebestmaidtheRegencyGrandhaseverknown.”
Ifeelprideliftme.Imayverywellhavegrownacoupleofinchesasaresultofhiswords.
“Mr.Snow?”Isay.
“Yes,Molly.”
“WhataboutJuanManuel?”
“I’llbecallinghimaswelltomakesureheknowshehasajobhereaslongashewantsone.Apparently,hisworkpermitsituationisresolvable.Noneofwhathappenedwashisfault.”
“Iknowthat,”Isay.“He’srighthere.Wouldyouliketospeakwithhim?”
“He’s…what?Oh.Yes,thatwouldbefine.”
IwalktothekitchenandpassJuanManuelmyphone.
“Hello?”hesays.“Yes,yes…I’msosorry,Mr.Snow,I…no,I…”
Atfirst,JuanManuelcanbarelygetawordinedgewise.“Yes,sir….Iknow,sir.Youdidn’tknow.Butthankyouforsayingthat….”
Astheconversationcontinues,itturnsbacktowork.“Ofcourse,sir.Iwillbetalkingtoalawyertoday….Iappreciatethat.AndI’mveryhappytohavemyjob.”
There’sabitmorebackandforthbetweenthem.Then,atlast,JuanManuelsays,“I’llbebackatworkassoonasIcan.Goodbye,Mr.Snow.”
JuanManuelhangsupandplacesmyphoneonthetable.
“Ican’tbelieveit.Istillhavemyjob.”
“Metoo,”Isay.Ifeelawarmthspreadthroughme,ajenesaisquoiverveIhaven’tfeltinsometime.
Heclapshishandstogether.“So,”hesays.“Itlooksliketwopeopleinthiskitchenhavethedayoff.Iwonderwhattheywilldo….”
“Tellmesomething,JuanManuel,”Isay.“Doyoubyanychancelikeicecream?”
Todayisabeautifuldayforsomanyreasons.JustlastnightwhenIwenttobedandbegantocountmyblessings,thereweresomanythatImadeitoverahundredinnotime.Imusthavefallenasleepeventually,butIcouldhavekeptcountingthewholenightthroughandneverrunout.
Andtoday,thereareevenmoregoodthings,toomanytocount.
Thesunisshining.It’swarmoutside,withnocloudsinthesky.IhavejustarrivedattheRegencyGrand,andI’mboundingupthescarletstepstowardMr.Preston,whohasjustrelievedsomeincomingguestsoftheirluggage.
“Molly!”hesays,hiswholefaceasmile.“It’snicetoseeyouatworkinsteadofacrossacrowdedcourtroom.”
“Isn’titabeautifulday,Mr.Preston?”
“Thatitis,”hereplies.“We’reatwork,andRodneyisbehindbars.All’srightwiththeworld.”
IwonderiftherewillevercomeadaywhenhearingRodney’snamewon’tproduceanacidicchurninmystomachandatighteninginmyjaw.
“Where’sJuanManuel?”Mr.Prestonasks.
“He’llbealongshortly.Hisshiftstartsinanhour.”
“ArewestillonforSunday?I’mlookingforwardtohisenchiladas.Youknow,I’mnotthemostadventurouswhenitcomestofood,andwithmywifelonggone,Idon’tgetuptomuchinthekitchen.Butthatmanofyours,he’sopenedmypalate.Maybealittletoomuch,”hesays,chucklingandpattinghisbelly.
“He’llbeverypleasedtohearit,Mr.Preston.Andyes,we’llseeyouandCharlotteonSundayattheusualtime.Ibestbegoing.Muchtodotoday!There’saweddingandaconference.Mr.Snowsaysallroomshavebeenbookedforasolidweek.SayhellotoCharlotte.”
“Iwill,deargirl.Takecare.”
Mr.Prestonturnstohelpsomeguests.Ipushthroughtherevolvingdoorsandtakeinthelobby.It’sasgrandasthefirstdayIlaideyesonit—theausteremarblestaircase,thegoldenserpentrailings,theplushemeraldloveseats,thebuzzandhumofguestsandvaletsandportersbustlingtoandfro.Ibreathedeeply,thenheadtowardthebasement.ButjustasI’mabouttotakethestairsdown,Inoticetheneatpenguinsbehindthereceptiondesk.They’vestoppedworking.They’realllookingmyway.SeveralarewhisperingtooneanotherinawayIdon’tcarefor,notintheleast.
Mr.SnowemergesfromadoorbehindReception.Heseesme.
“Molly!”hesays.Hecomesrushingover.“Youwerebrilliant.Absolutelybrilliant.”
I’mhavingtroublefocusingonhiswords.I’mwatchingthepenguins,tryingtounderstandwhythey’resofixatedonmethistime.
“Imerelytoldmytruth,”ItellMr.Snow.
“Yes,butit’syourtruth,yourtestimonythatclinchedit.Youweresocalmandsteadyonthestand.Andyoudohaveagiftforwords,youknow,andforrememberingdetails.Thejudgesawthatandknewyouwereareliablewitness.”
“Whyaretheystaring?”Iask.
“I’msorry?”Mr.Snowsays.Hefollowsmyeyestothereceptiondesk.“Oh,Isee,”hesays.“IfIhadtoguess,I’dsaythey’reinawe.I’dsaythelookthey’regivingyouisrespect.”
Respect.I’msounaccustomedtobeingtheobjectofsuchanexpressionthatIcan’tevenrecognizeit.
“Thankyou,Mr.Snow,”Isay.“Ibestbegoing.Ihavemanyroomsthatmustbereturnedtoastateofperfection,andasyouknow,roomsdon’tcleanthemselves.”
“Theymostcertainlydonot.Goodday,Molly.”
Iheaddownstairstothehousekeepingquarters.It’sstuffyandcloseasusual,butI’venevermindedit,notintheleast.I’mstandinginfrontofmylocker,wheremyuniform,freshlydrycleanedandcrisplypressed,hangsingossamer-thinplasticwrap.Myuniformisyetanotherblessing.Itisathingofgreatbeauty.
Itakeitintoachangeroomandputiton.ThenIreturntomylockerandopenit.DetectiveStarkreturnedGiselle’stimertomelongago,andIkeepitonthetopshelftoremindme.Ofher.Ofus.Ofourstrangefriendshipthatwasandwasn’t.
It’stime.
IhaveanewbitofaccoutrementthatIalsokeepinmylocker,anadditiontomyuniform.It’sanoblonggiltpinthatIwearjustabovemyheart.ItreadsMOLLYGRAY,HEADMAID.
Inaboldandunexpectedmove,Mr.Snowpromotedmeaboutamonthago.Farbeitfrommetotelltales,butitwouldseemthatCheryl’sworkethicwasnotmeetingMr.Snow’shighprofessionalstandards,forshewasstrippedofhersupervisoryroleanditwasbestoweduntome.
Ihavesinceinstantiatedsomenewbestpracticestoimprovetheoverallfunctioningandmoraleinthehive.First,beforeeveryshift,Iseetoitthateachmaid’strolleyisfullyandproperlysupplied.Ilovethispartofmyjob—arrangingthesoapsandtinyshampoosintheirtrays,replenishingthepolishingclothsanddetergents,stackingthefresh,whitetowelsinperfectpiles.Onspecialdays—suchasMother’sDay—Ileavelittlegiftsforthemaidsintheirtrolleys,suchasaboxofchocolateswithalittletag:FromMollytheMaid.Knowthis:yourworkissweet.
Anothernewbestpracticeishowwebeginashift.Allofusmaidsgatherwithourtrolleysandagreetoafairandequitableroomdistribution,bothintermsofthequantityofroomseachandthepotentialtoearntips.IhavemadeitabundantlycleartoCherylthatsheisnotto“preview”roomsassignedtoothermaidsandthatifshesomuchastakesadimeoffanothermaid’spillow,Iwillejectherunceremoniouslyfromthehiveandrunheroverwithherowntrolley.
Wehaveanewmaidonourteam.HisnameisRicky,andheisSunshine’sson.Cherylwasquicktopointoutthathehasalispandwearseyeliner,twofactswhich,tobeperfectlyhonest,aresoirrelevantthatIfailedtonoticeeitherovertheentirecourseofhismonth-longtraining.WhatIdidnotice,however,iswhataquickstudyheis,howhedelightsinmakingabedwithnocreases,howhepolishesglasstoahighshine,andhowhegreetsguestswiththemannersofafinecourtier.Heis,asmanagerssay,akeeper.
IreceivedaraisewhenIwaspromoted,andbetweenthatandthefactthatI’mnowsharingthecostofrent,I’vebeenabletostartmyveryownFabergé.It’snotmuchyet,justafewhundreddollars,butIhaveaplan.I’llkeepgrowingtheegguntilIhaveenoughtoenrolloncemoreinthehotelmanagementandhospitalityprogramatthenearbycollege.WithMr.Snow’spermission,Iwillworkaroundmyclassschedule,andinayearortwo,Iwillgraduate,magnacumlaude,andreturntofull-timeworkattheRegencyGrandwithevenbetterskillsandamorecompleteknowledgeofhotelmanagement.
Perhapsthebiggestchangeinmylifeisthatit’snowofficial:Ihaveabeau.I’mtoldit’sinvoguetorefertohimasmypartner,andI’mtryingtogetusedtothatterm,thougheverytimeIsayitIthinkofpartnerincrime,whichinsomewayswewere,thoughIdidn’tknowitatthetime.
WhenJuanManueleventuallyreceivedaworkpermitandreturnedtothekitchen,Mr.Snowofferedhimhisownroominthehotelforaslongasheneededtogetbackonhisfeet.Butoneveningsandweekends,whenweweren’tworking,JuanManuelandIspentalotoftimetogether.Ittooksometimeformetofullytrustthathereallyiswhatheappearstobe—whichisagoodegg.AndIbelieveittookhimsometime,too,totrustthatsoamI.
I’velearnedtojudgefriendsthroughtheiractions,andJuanManuel’sactionsspeakvolumes.Therearethebigthings,likestandingupformeincourtandsayingthatIdidn’tknowathingabouttheillegalactivitiesgoingonatthehotel.Buttherearealsothesmallactions,likethebrownpaperbagluncheshepreparesforme,whichIpickupfromthekitchenatpreciselynooneachworkday.InsidethebagisadelightfulsandwichandasweettreatthatheknowsIwilllike—shortbreadbiscuits,achocolate,andfromtimetotime,araisin-branmuffin.
TherearestilldayswhenIfeelverysadaboutGran,andwhenItextJuanManueltosayI’mblue,herespondsimmediately—BRT!DGA!He’llbringajigsawpuzzlethatwe’lltackletogether,orhe’llhelpmewithmydailycleaningchore.Ifthere’sanythingthatraisesthespiritsmorethanagoodtidy,it’sagoodtidywithcompany.Andformypart,whenIknowJuanManuelisblueandmisseshisfamily,Irefrainfromofferingtissues.Iofferhugsandkissesinstead.
Twomonthsago,IaskedJuanManuelifhewantedtomoveoutofthehotelandinwithme.“Forcost-savingpurposes,”Iclarified.“Amongothers.”
“I’llonlyagreeifI’mallowedtodoallthedishes.”
Reluctantly,Iagreed.
We’vebeenlivingquitehappilytogethereversince—splittingtherent,makingmealstogether,callinghisfamilytogether,shoppingtogether,goingtotheOliveGardentogether…andmore.JuanManuelsharesmyloveoftheTourofItalyplatter.WeoftenplayagamewherewehavetochoosejustonepartoftheTourofItalytoeatifweonedaybecomestrandedonadesertisland.
“Youcanchooseonlyone—thechickenparmigiana,thelasagna,orthefettucineAlfredo.”
“No,Ican’tchoose.It’simpossible,Molly.”
“Butyoumust.Youhavetochoose.”
“Ican’tchoose.I’dratherdie.”
“I’dratheryoustayaliveandwell,thankyouverymuch!”
Thelasttimeweplayedthisgame,wewereattheOliveGarden.Heleanedforwardandkissedmeacrossthetable,rightunderthependantlight,allwithouteverputtinghiselbowsonthetable,becausethat’sjustthekindofmanheis.
Tonight,wewillgoout,justthetwoofus,totheOliveGarden.Afterall,wehavereasontocelebrate.Yesterdaywasabigdayforbothofus.WeeachtookthestandinthetrialagainstRodney.Charlottespentweekspreparingusforcross-examination,foreverydifficultquestionthedefensecouldthrowatus.Intheend,JuanManueltookthestandbeforeIdidandtoldthecourthisverysadandterribletruth.Hetoldthemhowhispapersweretakenfromhim,howRodneythreatenedhislifeandthoseofhisfamilymembers,howhewasforcedtoworkforRodney,andhowhewasburnedrepeatedly.Intheend,itwasn’tJuanManuelwhowasattackedonthestand.Itwasme.
Doyoutrulyexpectthiscourttobelieveyoudidn’tknowanythingwhenyouwereliterallywipingcocaineofftableseverymorning?
IsitaccuratetosaythatyouwereMr.Black’saccomplice?
IsGiselleyourfriend?Isthatwhyyou’reprotectingher?
IwantedtotellthemthatGiselledoesn’tneedmyprotection,notanymore,notsinceherabuser,Mr.Black,isdead.ButIlearnedfromCharlottethatincourt,whenaquestionassumes,youdon’thavetoanswerit.AndsinceIdidn’twanttomakeanA-S-Soutofmyself,IallowedCharlottetoobject.AndIsaidnothing.
DetectiveStarktriedmanytimestogetGiselletoappearincourt,buttonoavail.Once,shemanagedtogetheronthephone.ShelocatedGiselleatahotelinSaint-Tropez.DetectiveStarkbeggedhertocomebacktothecountryandtakethestand.Sheaskedwhothechargeswereagainst,andwhenshelearnedtheywereagainstRodney,notme,shesaid,“Hellno.I’mnotgoingback.”
“Didshesaywhy?”Iasked.
“Shesaidshe’swastedenoughofherlifeonguiltymen.Shesaidthateverything’sdifferentforhernow,thatshe’sfreeforthefirsttimeever.ShesaidthatunlessIcantrackherdownandserveherasubpoena,she’llcomebackwhenhellfreezesover.ShealsosaidI’mthedetective,nother,thatit’smyjobtoputthevillainbehindbars.”
ThatsoundedlikeGiselle.Icouldalmosthearhersayingit.
Intheend,ItookthestandwithonlyJuanManueltocorroboratemysideofthestory.
Apparently,Ididwell.Apparently,Ihadacalmdemeanoronthestandandthejudgetooknotice.Charlottesaysthatmostwitnessesfeelattackedupthere,andtheyeitherlashoutorbreakdown.
I’musedtoname-callingandinsinuationsaboutmycharacter.I’musedtoverbaljoustsandjabs.They’refiredmywayeveryday,oftenwithoutmeevenbeingawareofthem.I’musedtomywordsbeingmyonlydefense.
Forthemostpart,beingonthestandwasnotdifficult.AllIhadtodowaslistentothequestionsandrespondwiththetruth,mytruth.
ThehardestpartwaswhenCharlotteaskedmetowalkthecourtthroughmymemoryofthedayIfoundMr.Blackdeadinhisbed.ItoldthemaboutMr.Blackalmostbowlingmeoveroutsidethesuite.ItoldthemhowIenteredlaterthatdayandGisellewasgone,howIturnedthecornertothebedroomandsawMr.Blacklyingthere.ItoldthemeverydetailIcouldremember—thedrinksonthesitting-roomtable,theopensafe,thespilledbottleofpills,Mr.Black’sshoesakimboonthefloor,threepillowsonthebed,notfour.
“Threepillows,”Charlottesaid.“HowmanyareusuallyonabedattheRegencyGrand?”
“Fourisourhousestandard.Twofirm,twosoft.AndIcanassureyou,Ialwayskeptfourcleanpillowsonthatbed.I’maverydetail-orientedperson.”
Amufflederuptionoflaughtertraveledthroughthecourtroom,laughteratmyexpense.Thejudgecalledfororder,andCharlotteaskedmetocontinue.
“Tellthecourt,Molly.Didyouseeanyoneinthesuiteorinthehallways,anyonewhomighthavehadthemissingpillow?”
Herecamethetrickypart,thepartI’dneverdiscussedwithanyone,notevenCharlotte.ButI’dpreparedmyselfforthismoment.I’dpracticednightafternight,inbetweencountingblessingsandsheep.
Isteadiedmygazeandmyvoice.Iconcentratedmymindonthepleasantsoundofmyownblood.Icouldhearitinmyears,therushingflow,inandout,rollingwavesonafarawaybeach.What’srightisright.What’sdoneisdone.
“Iwasn’talone.Intheroom,”Isaid.“IthoughtIwasatfirst,butIwasn’t.”
Charlotteswiveledonherheelandturnedmyway.
“Molly?”shesaid.“Whatareyoutalkingabout?”
Iswallowed,thenspoke.“AfterIcalleddowntoReceptionforhelpthefirsttime,Iputthereceiverdown.ThenIturnedtowardthebedroomdoor.Andthat’swhenIsawit.”
“Molly,Iwantyoutothinkverycarefullybeforeyouspeak,”Charlottecalmlyadvised,thoughhereyeswerewidewithalarm.“I’mgoingtoaskyouaquestion,andyou’retotelltheabsolutetruth.Whatdidyousee?”Herheadtiltedtoonesideasifnothingmadesense.
“Therewasamirroronthefarwallinfrontofme.”
IpausedandwaitedforCharlottetocatchup.Itdidn’ttakeherlong.
“Amirror,”shesaid.“Andwhatwasreflectedinit?”
“First,myself,myterrifiedfacestaringbackatme.Thenbehindme,tomyleft,intheshadowycornerbyGiselle’sarmoirewas…aperson.”
MyeyeslockedwithCharlotte’s.Itwasasthoughhermindwereanintricatemachine,readingme,deliberatingonhowtoproceed.
“And…wasthispersonholdinganything?”sheasked.
“Apillow.”
Murmurstraveledthroughthecrowdedcourtroom.Thejudgecalledfororder.
“Molly,isthepersonyousawstandinginthatdarkcornerpresentinthiscourtroomtoday?”
“I’mafraidIwouldnotbecomfortablesaying,”Isaid.
“Becauseyoudon’tknow?”
“Becauseatthatprecisemoment,whenIturnedfromthemirrortogetadirectlookatthefigureinthedarkcorner,Ifainted.AndwhenIwokeup,thepersonwasn’tthereanymore.”
Charlottenoddedslowly.Shetookhertime.“Ofcourse,”shesaid.“Youhaveahistoryoffaintingspells,don’tyou,Molly?DetectiveStarktestifiedthatyoufaintedonceatyourfrontdooruponarrestandonceatthestation,isthatcorrect?”
“Yes.Ifaintwhenunderextremeduress.AndImostcertainlywasunderextremeduressuponwrongfularrest.IwasalsounderextremeduresswhenIlookedintothatmirrorandrealizedIwasn’taloneinthathotelroom.”
Charlottebegantopaceinfrontofthestand.Shestoppeddirectlyinfrontofme.“Whathappenedwhenyoucameto?”sheasked.
“WhenIregainedconsciousness,IcalledReceptionforthesecondtime.Buttherewasnooneintheroomatthatpoint.Justme.Well,meandthecorpseofMr.Black,”Isaid.
“Isitpossible,Molly—I’mnotsayingitwas—butisitpossiblethatthepersoninthatdarkcornerwasRodneyStiles?”
Rodney’slawyerjumpedtohisfeet.“Objection.Leadingthewitness,”hesaid
“Sustained,”thejudgereplied.“Counsel,doyouwishtorephraseyourquestion?”
Charlottepausedforamoment,thoughIdoubtitwasbecauseshewasthinking.ItookthattimetostudyRodney.Hislawyerwasleaningforward,whisperingsomethinginhisear.IwonderedwhatIwasbeingcalledthistime,notthatitmattered.Rodneywaswearingwhatappearedtobeaveryexpensivesuit.Iusedtothinkhewassohandsome,butasIlookedathiminthatmoment,Icouldn’timaginewhatI’deverseeninhim.
Afteralonginterval,Charlottefinallysaid,“Nofurtherquestions,YourHonor.”Sheturnedtome.“Thankyou,Molly,”shesaid.
ForamomentIthoughtitwasover,butthenIrememberedwewereonlyhalfwaythrough.Rodney’slawyersaunteredtowardme,stoppingrightinfrontofmeandstaringmedown.Itdidlittletounnerveme.I’musedtosuchlooks.Theworldhadpreparedmewell.
Ican’trecalleverywordthatwassaid,butIdoremembertreadingthesameoldground,tellingthesamestorythesamewayeverytimeIwasasked.Ididn’ttripupevenoncebecauseit’seasytotellthetruthwhenyouknowwhatitisandwhatitisn’t,andwhenyou’vedrawnyourownlineinthesand.Therewasjustonemomentduringcross-examinationwhenRodney’slawyerdrilledintomewithparticularvigor.
“Molly,there’ssomethingIstilldon’tunderstandaboutyourstory.Youwerebroughttothepolicestationseveraltimes.YouweregivenampleopportunitytotellDetectiveStarkaboutthefigureinthecornerofthehotelsuitethatday.Doingsomighthaveevenexoneratedyou.Andyet,timeaftertime,younevermentionedseeingsomeoneinthatroom.Youneversaidawordaboutthat.Andifyourlawyer’sbehaviormeansanything,itsureseemslikeshedidn’tknowuntiltodayeither.Now,whyisthat,Molly?Isthatbecausenoonewasactuallythere?Isitbecauseyou’reprotectingsomeoneelse,orisitbecausewhenyoulookedinthatmirror,allyousawwasyourownguiltyfacereflectedbackatyou?”
“Objection.Badgering.Oftheveryworstkind,”Charlottesaid.
“Sustained,minusthelastbit,”saidthejudge.
Thewhispersflutteredthroughthecourtroom.
“I’llrephrasemyquestion,”Rodney’slawyersaid.“DidyoulietoDetectiveStarkwhenyoufirsttoldheraboutwhatyousawinthathotelroom?”
“Ididnotlie,”Isay.“Onthecontrary.You’veallreadthetranscripts.Perhapsyou’veevenwatchedthevideoofmytestimonyontheveryfirstdayIwasinterrogatedatthatfilthypolicestation.OneofthefirstthingsIsaidtoDetectiveStark,innouncertainterms,wasthatwhenIannouncedmyarrivalinthesuite,Ithoughtsomeonewastherewithme.Iaskedherspecificallytowritethatdetaildown.”
“ButthedetectiveobviouslyassumedyoumeantMr.Black.”
“Andthat’swhyassumptionsaredangerous,”Isaid.
“Ah,”herepliedashepacedbackandforthinfrontofthestand.“Soyouomittedthewholetruth.Yourefusedtoclarify.That,too,isalie,Molly.”Heeyedthejudge,whotiltedherchindowneversoslightly.IthoughtthatmaybeCharlottewouldintervene,butshedidn’t.Shewasstillandquietatherbench.
“Andcanyoupleaseenlightenus,Molly,astowhyyoufailed—countlesstimes—toclarifytoinvestigatorsyourclaimthat‘someoneelsewasintheroom’andthatthispersonwasholdingapillow?”
“BecauseIwas…”
“Waswhat,Molly?Youstrikemeassomeonerarelyatalossforwords,sohaveoutwithit.Thisisyourchance.”
“Iwasn’tonehundredpercentsurewhatitwasI’dseen.I’velearnedtodoubtmyselfandmyperceptionsoftheworldaroundme.IdorealizeI’mdifferent,youknow,differentfrommost.WhatIperceiveisn’twhatyouperceive.Plus,peopledon’talwayslistentome.I’moftenafraidIwon’tbebelieved,thatmythoughtswillbediscounted.I’mjustamaid,anobody.AndwhatIsawinthatmoment,itfeltlikeadream,butIknownowthatitwasreal.SomeonewithadeepmotivekilledMr.Black.Andthatwasn’tme,”Isaid.IlookedatRodneythen,andhelookedatme.Therewasalookonhisfacethatwasentirelynew.Itwasasthough,fortheveryfirsttime,hewasseeingmeforwhoIreallyam.
Thecourtroomeruptedandthejudgecalledfororderoncemore.Iwasaskedseveralotherquestions,whichIanswered,clearlyandpolitely.ButIknewnothingelseIsaidwouldmatter.IknewthisbecauseIcouldseeCharlotteonthebench.Andshewassmiling,asmilethatwasnewforme,onethatIwouldaddtothecataloginmymind,filedunderAfor“awe.”I’dsurprisedher,shockedhercompletely,butIhadnotmadeatotalmessofthings.Everythingwasgoingourway.That’swhathersmilesaid.
Andshewasright.Thingsdidgoourway.
AsIthinkbackonitnow,oneverythingthathappenedinthatcourtroomyesterday,Ican’thelpbutsmilemyself.
IsnapoutofmyrecollectionswhenIseeSunithaandSunshineheadingtowardme.They’vejustarrivedforthestartofourshift.They’reperfectlydressedintheiruniforms,theirhairneatlypinnedback.Theystandinfrontofmesilently,whichisquiteusualforSunithaandmostunusualforSunshine.
“Goodmorning,ladies,”Isay.“Ihopeyou’relookingforwardtoanotherdayofreturningroomstoastateofperfection.”
Theystillsaynothing.Finally,Sunshinespeaks.“Justgoon.Tellher!”
Sunithatakesastepforward.“Iwantedtosay:youcaughtthesnake.Thegrassiscleannow,thankyou.”
Idon’texactlyknowwhatshe’stryingtosay,butIcantellshe’spayingmeacompliment.
“Weallwantacleanhotel,dowenot?”
“Ohyes,”shesays.“Cleanmeansgreen!”
Thispleasesmeimmenselybecauseshe’squotingsomethingIsaidinarecentmaidtrainingsession.Ifweworktomakethingsclean,we’llmakealotofgreen.Bygreen,Imeantmoney—tips,bills.Ithoughtthatwasquiteclever,andI’mpleasedsheremembered.
“Bigtipstodayandbigtipsinthefuture!”shesays.
“Whichisgoodforusall,”Isay.“Shallwe?”
Andwithoutfurtherdelay,wegetbehindourtrolleysandpushonward.
Butjustaswemakeittotheelevators,myphonebuzzesinmypocket.
Theelevatordoorsopen.“Youtwogoahead.I’lltakethenextoneup,”Isay
Offtheygotogether,whichgivesmeamomenttocheckmyphone.It’sprobablyJuanManuel.Heoftensendstextmessagesthroughouttheday,littlethingstomakemesmile—apictureofuseatingicecreamatthepark,oranupdateabouthisfamilybackhome.
Butit’snotJuanManuel.It’sanemailfrommybank.Instantly,Ifeelmystomachsink.Ican’tbearthethoughtofbadfinancialnews.Iopenitandreadthemessage:
SANDYCAYMANhassentyou$10,000(U.S.)andthemoneyhasbeenautomaticallydepositedintoyouraccount.
Andunder“Specialmessage,”threewords:DebtofGratitude.
Atfirst,Ithinkitmustbeamistake.Butthenitdawnsonme.SandyCayman.Sandybeaches.TheCaymanIslands.
Giselle.
Gisellesentmeagift.Andthat’swheresheis—onherfavoriteislandinthevillathatshewantedsobadly,avillasheaskedMr.Blacktoputinhernamehoursbeforehisdeath.Mr.Blackrelented.Hegavein.ThatwasrevealedincourtbyRodney’sdefenseteam.Whenheleftthesuiteonthelastdayofhislife,afterthrowinghisweddingringatGiselle,hehadachangeofheart.HegrabbedthedeedforthevillaintheCaymansoutofthesafe.Ihappenedtoseeitinhisbreastpocketwhenhenearlybowledmeoverinthehallway.DespitetheargumentwithGiselle,hewentdirectlytohislawyersandhadthemputthevillainGiselle’sname.Thatwasthelastbitofbusinessheconductedbeforereturningtothehotel.Itexplainedalot….
IimaginedGiselleonaloungechairinthesun,finallygettingwhatshealwayswanted,justnotthewaysheexpected.Somehow,shehadmoneynow,too,evenifitwasn’tMr.Black’s—moneytomakeamends.
She’dsentmeagift.Anenormous,Fabergé-enhancinggift.
AgiftIwouldn’tknowhowtogivebackevenifIwantedto.
AgiftthatIintendedtoputtoverygooduse.
Granalwayssaidthatthetruthissubjective,whichissomethingIfailedtocomprehenduntilmyownlifeexperienceprovedherwisdom.NowIunderstand.Mytruthisnotthesameasyoursbecausewedon’texperiencelifeinthesameway.
Weareallthesameindifferentways.
ThismoreflexiblenotionoftruthissomethingIcanlivewith—morethanthat,it’ssomethingthatgivesmegreatcomfortthesedays.
Iamlearningtobelessliteral,lessabsoluteaboutmostthings.Theworldisabetterplaceseenthroughaprismofcolorsratherthanmerelyinblackandwhite.Inthisnewworld,thereisroomforversionsandvariations,forshadesofgray.
TheversionofthetruthItoldonthestandonmydayincourtisexactlythat—aversionofmyexperiencesandmemoriesonthedaythatIfoundMr.Blackdeadinhisbed.Mytruthhighlightsandprioritizesmylensontheworld;itfocusesonwhatIseebestandobscureswhatIfailtounderstand—orwhatIchoosenottoexaminetooclosely.
Justiceisliketruth—it,too,issubjective.Somanyofthosewhodeservetobepunishedneverreceivetheirjustdeserts,andinthemeantime,goodpeople,decentpeople,arechargedwiththewrongcrimes.It’saflawedsystem—justice—adirty,messy,imperfectsystem.Butifthegoodpeopleacceptpersonalresponsibilityforexactingjustice,wouldwenothaveabetterchanceofcleaningtheentireworld,ofholdingtheliars,thecheaters,theusers,andtheabuserstoaccount?
Idonotsharemyviewsonthissubjectwidely.Whowouldcare?Afterall,I’mjustamaid.
Onmydayincourt,ItoldthosegatheredaboutthedayIfoundMr.Blackdeadinhisbed.ItoldithowIsawit,howIlivedit,onlyIcutthestoryshort.Yes,IdidcheckMr.Black’sneckforapulseonlytofindnone.IdidcalldowntoReceptionaskingforhelp.Ididturntothebedroomdoorandcatchaglimpseofmyselfinthemirror.OnlythendidIrealizeIwasnotaloneintheroom.Therewasinfactafigurestandinginthecorner.Adarkshadowfellacrosstheperson’sface,butIcouldseetheirhandsclearly,andapillow,clutchedclosetotheirheart.Thisfigureremindedmesomuchofmyself,andofGran.ItwasasifIwasseeingmyselfreflectedtwiceinthemirror.That’swhenIfainted.
Thestorycontinuesafterthat.MuchlikeanepisodeofColumbo:there’salwayssomethingmorethatwasn’tseenbefore.
Itwasn’taman,thefigureinthecorner.
WhenIawoke,Ifoundmyselfonthefloorbesidethebed.Someonewasfanningmyfacewithhotelstationery.Afterafewdeepbreaths,myvisionsharpened.Itwasawoman.Shewasmiddle-aged,withsalt-and-pepperhairheldbackbythesunglassesproppedonherhead.Herhairwascutneatlyintoabob,styledstraight,muchlikemyown.Shewaswearingaloose-fittingwhiteblouseanddarkpants.Shewascrouchedoverme,aworriedlookonherface.Ididn’trecognizeherface,notatfirst.
“Areyouallright?”sheaskedasshestoppedherfanning.
Myfirstinstinctwastoreachforthephoneagain.
“Please,”shesaid.“Youdon’tneedtodothat.”
Ibroughtmyselftoaseatedposition,pushingmybackagainstthebedsidetable.Shetooktwostepsbackward,givingmespace,butshekepthereyesonme.
“I’mterriblysorry,”Isaid.“Ididn’trealizetherewasanotherguestintheroom.ButImust—”
“Youmustnothing.Please.Hearmeoutbeforeyoutouchthephone.”
Shedidnotsoundangryoreventense.Shewasmerelyofferingasuggestion.
IdidasIwastold.
“Wouldyoulikeaglassofwater?”sheasked.“Andmaybesomethingsweet?”
Iwasn’treadytostand.Ididn’ttrustmylegs.“Yes,”Isaid.“Thatwouldbemostkind.”
Shenoddedonceandlefttheroom.Icouldhearherrummagingaroundinthesittingroom.ThenIheardtherushofwaterfromthebathroomtap.
Amomentlater,shewasbackinthebedroom,crouchinginfrontofme.Shepassedmeaglassofwater,whichItookinmyshakyhandsanddrankgreedily.
“Here,”shesaidonceI’dfinished,“Ifoundthisinyourcleaningcart.”
Itwasachocolate,forturn-downservices.Strictlyspeaking,itwasnotminetoeat,butthiswasanextraordinarycircumstanceandshe’dalreadyopenedthewrapper.
“You’llfeelbetter,”shesaid.
Shepassedmethesquareofchocolate,putitrightintothepalmofmyhand.
“Thankyou,”Ireplied.Iplacedthewholesquareonmytongue.Itdissolvedinstantly,thesugarworkingitsmagic.
Shewaitedamoment,thenasked,“CanIhelpyou?”Shereachedoutherhand.
Iputmyunsteadyhandinhersandwithherassistance,Iwassoonstandingbesideher.Theroomcameintosharperfocus.Thegroundwassolidbeneathmyfeet.
Westoodtherebesidethebed,lookingateachotherforamoment,neitherofusdaringtolookaway.
“Wedon’thavemuchtime,”shesaid.“DoyouknowwhoIam?”
Istudiedhermoreclosely.Shelookedvaguelyfamiliar,butshealsolookedlikeeveryothermiddle-agedfemaleguestwhofrequentedthehotel.
“Myapologies,I’mafraid…”
Andthat’swhenithitme.Fromthenewspapers.Fromouronebriefencounterintheelevator.ItwasMrs.Black.NotthesecondMrs.Black,Giselle,butthefirstMrs.Black,theoriginalwife.
“Ah,”shesaidassheneatlytuckedthechocolatewrapperintoherpantspocket.“Recognitiondawns.”
“Mrs.Black,I’mterriblysorrytointrude,butIdobelievethatyourformerhusband…IbelieveMr.Blackisdead.”
Shenoddedslowly.“Myex-husbandwasacheaterandathiefandanabuserandacriminal.”
Istartedtoputittogetherthen,onlythen.“Mrs.Black,”Iasked.“Didyou…didyoukillMr.Black?”
“Isupposethatdependsonyourpointofview,”shesaid.“Ibelievehekilledhimself,slowly,overtime,thathebecameinfectedbyhisowngreed,thatherobbedhischildrenandmeofanormallife,thathemodeledcorruptionandevilinjustabouteverywayamancan.Mytwosonsarehisclones,andthey’renowdrug-addledslobswhoflitfrompartytoparty,spendingtheirfather’smoney.Andmydaughter,Victoria,allshewantsistocleanupthefamilybusiness,torunitwithsomedecency,butherownfatherwantstodisownher.Hewouldn’thavestoppeduntilVictoriaandIwerebothdestitute.Andhedidthiseventhoughshe’saforty-nine-percentshareholder.Well,shewasaforty-nine-percentshareholder.She’llbemorethanthatnow….”
ShelookedatMr.Black,deadonthebed,thenbackatme.
“Icameonlytotalktohim,toaskhimtogiveVictoriaachance.Butwhenheletmein,hewasdrunk,poppingpills,slurringhiswords,mutteringaboutGisellebeingagold-diggingbitch,justlikeme,howwe’rebothgood-for-nothingbimbowives,thetwobiggestmistakesofhislife.Hewasobnoxiousandabully.Inotherwords,hewashisusualself.”
Shepaused.
“Hegrabbedmebythewrists.I’llhavebruises.”
“JustlikeGiselle,”Isaid.
“Yes.JustlikethenewandimprovedMrs.Black.Itriedtowarnher.Giselle.Butshedidn’tlisten.Tooyoungtoknowanybetter.”
“Hebeatshertoo,”Isaid.
“Notanymore,”shereplied.“Hewouldhavedoneworsetome,buthestartedtoheaveandpant.Heletgoofmywrists.Thenhestumbledtothebed,kickedoffhisshoesandlaydown,justlikethat.”
Hereyesdartedtothepillowonthefloor,thenaway.“Tellme,”shesaid.“Doyoueverfeelliketheworldisbackward?Likethevillainsprosperandthegoodsuffer?”
Itwasasthoughshewerereadingmydeepestthoughts.Mymindflittedthroughashortlistofthosewhohadtakenfrommeunjustlyandhadcausedmetosuffer—Cheryl,Wilbur…andamanI’dnevermet,myownfather.
“Yes,”Isaid.“Ifeelthatwayallthetime.”
“Metoo,”shereplied.“Inmyexperience,therearetimeswhenagoodpersonmustdosomethingthat’snotquiteright,butit’sstilltherightthingtodo.”
Yes,shewasright.
“Whatifitweredifferentthistime?”sheasked.“Whatifwetookmattersintoourownhandsandbalancedthescales?Whatifyoudidn’tseeme?WhatifIjustwalkedoutofthehotelandneverlookedback?”
“You’dberecognized,wouldyounot?”
“Ifpeopleactuallyreadthenewspapersdeliveredtotheirdoors,butIdoubttheydo.I’mlargelyinvisible.Justanothergray-haired,middle-agedwomaninloose-fittingclothesandsunglasseswalkingoutthebackdooroftheRegencyGrand.Justanothernobody.”
Invisibleinplainsight,justlikeme.
“Whatdidyoutouch?”Iaskedher.
“Excuseme?”
“Whenyouenteredthesuite,whatdidyoutouch?”
“Oh…Itouchedthedoorknobandprobablythedooritself.IthinkIlaidahandonthebureaubythedoor.Ididn’tsitdown.Icouldn’t.Hewaschasingmearoundtheroom,yellingandspittinginmyface.Hegrabbedmywrists,soIdon’tthinkIeveractuallytouchedhim.Itookthatpillowoffthebedand…That’sit,Ibelieve.”
Wewerebothsilentforamoment,staringatthepillowonthefloor.IthoughtagainofGran.Ididn’tunderstandherbackthen,notentirely,butduringthatmomentwithMrs.Black,Isuddenlysawitclearly—howmercytakesunexpectedforms.
Ilookedupather,thisvirtualstrangerwhowassomuchlikeme.
“They’renotcoming,”shesaid.“Whoeveryoucalledearlier.”
“No,theywon’t.Theydon’tlistenwell.Nottome.I’llhavetocallagain.”
“Now?”
“No,notyet.”
Ididn’tknowwhatelsetosay.MyfeetturnedtostoneastheydowhenI’mnervous.“Youbestbegoing,”Ieventuallysaid.“Pleasedon’tletmedelayyou.”Iofferedaslightcurtsy.
“Andwhatwillyoudo?WhenI’mgone?”
“I’lldowhatIalwaysdo.I’llcleaneverythingup.I’lltakeawaymywaterglass.I’llwipedownthefrontdoorknobandthebureau.I’llpolishthefaucetinthebathroom.I’llputthatpillowonthefloorinmylaundryhamper.Itwillbecleanedinthebasementandreturnedtoanotherroominastateofperfection.Noonewilleverknowitwashere.”
“Justlikeme?”
“Yes,”Isaid.“AndafterI’vereturnedthosefewareasofthesuitetoastateofperfection,I’llcallReceptionagainandreiteratemyurgentrequestforhelp.”
“Youneversawme,”shesaid.
“Andyouneversawme,”Ireplied.
Sheleftthen.Shesimplywalkedoutofthebedroomandoutthefrontdoorofthesuite.Ididn’tmoveuntilIheardthefrontdoorclickbehindher.
ThatwasthelasttimeIsawMrs.Black,thefirstMrs.Black.Ordidn’tseeher.Somuchdependsonyourpointofview.
Onceshewasgone,IcleanedthingsupasIsaidIwould.Iputthepillowsheleftbehindintothelaundryhamperinmytrolley.IcalleddowntoReception,forthesecondtime,onceIfullyregainedconsciousness,justlikeIsaidincourt.Andatlonglast,afewminuteslater,helparrived.
—
Isleepwellatnightnow,perhapsbetterthanIeverhavebeforebecauseIliebesideJuanManuel,mydearestfriendinalltheworld.He’saheavysleeper,justlikeGranwas—hefallsasleepbeforehisheadhitsthepillow.WesleeptogetherunderGran’slone-starquiltbecausesomethingsarebetterkeptthesame,whereasotherthingsarebetterwhentheychangealittle.OnthewallsaroundusI’vetakendownGran’slandscapepaintings,replacingthemwithframedphotosofJuanManuelandme.
Ilistentohisbreathing,likerollingwaves—in,out,in.AndIcountmyblessings.Therearesomanyofthemit’sdaunting.IknowmyconscienceiscleanbecauseImakeitthroughfewerandfewerblessingseachnightbeforeIfallintopleasantdreams.Iwakeuprefreshedandjoyful,readytoseizetheday.
Ifallofthishastaughtmeanything,itisthis:there’sapowerinmeIneverknewwasthere.Ialwaysknewtherewaspowerinmyhands—toclean,towipeawaydirt,toscouranddisinfect,tosetthingsright.ButnowIknowthere’spowerelsewhere—inmymind.Andinmyhearttoo.
Granwascorrectafterall.Aboutallofit.Abouteverything.
Thelongeryoulive,themoreyoulearn.
Peopleareamysterythatcanneverbesolved.
Lifehasawayofsortingitselfout.
Everythingwillbeokayintheend.Ifit’snotokay,it’snottheend.
ToJackie
ACKNOWLEDGMENTSIttakesavillagetopublishabook.Thankyoutothefollowingextraordinarypeopleinmyvillage:Myvisionary,dream-makingagent,MadeleineMilburn,andherteamattheMadeleineMilburnLiteraryTV&FilmAgency,especiallyLiane-LouiseSmith,LivMaidment,GilesMilburn,GeorginaSimmonds,GeorgiaMcVeigh,RachelYeoh,HannahLadds,SophiePéllisier,EmmaDawson,andAnnaHogarty.Mywise,endlesslysupportive,andinspiringeditors,HilaryTeemanatPenguinRandomHouseU.S.,NicoleWinstanleyatPenguinRandomHouseCanada,andCharlotteBrabbinatHarperFictionUK.Youmakeeverythingbetter.Themany,manypublishingchampionsinmarketsaroundtheworldwhoarebringingthisbooktoreaders.SpecialthanksinCanadaareowedtoKristinCochrane,ToniaAddison,BonnieMaitland,BethCockeram,ScottSellers,andMarionGarner.AndintheU.S.toCarolineWeishuhn,JenniferHershey,KimHovey,KaraWelsh,CindyBerman,ErinKorenko,ElenaGiavaldi,PaoloPepe,JenniferGarza,SusanCorcoran,QuinneRogers,TaylorNoel,MichelleJasmine,VirginiaNorey,andDebbieAroff.AndintheUKtoKimberleyYoung,KateElton,LynneDrew,IsabelCoburn,SarahMunro,AliceGomer,HannahO’Brien,SarahShea,RachelQuinn,MaddyMarshall,JenniferHarlow,BenHurd,AndrewDavis,ClaireWard,andGraceDent.Themoviemagic-makersI’msoluckytobeworkingwith—JosieFreedmanandAlyssaWeinbergeratICMPartners,ChrisGoldbergatWinterlightPictures,JeyunMunfordandChristineSunatUniversalPictures,andJoshMcLaughlinatWinkPictures.KevinHansonandtheentirepastandpresentteamatSimon&Schuster,especiallySarahSt.Pierre,BrendanMay,JessicaScott,PhyllisBruce,LaurieGrassi,JanieYoon,JustinStoller,JasmineElliott,KarenSilva,FeliciaQuon,SharaAlexa,SherryLee,LorraineKelly,DavidMillar,AdriaIwasutiak,AlisonCallahan,JenBergstrom,andSuzanneBaboneau.Youaremypeople—youarebookpeople.Maywealwaystakechildlikedelightinunboxingfirstprintingsandbethrilledbyshelfsightingsinthewild.IndustryprosandadvisorsAdrienneKerr,MarianneGunnO’Connor,KeithShier,andSamanthaHaywood.CarolynReidy,sorelymissed.I’dhopedwecouldtalkaboutthisbookbecauseyournoteswouldhavebeenjustlikeyou—bluntandbrilliant.Whereveryouare,Iknowyou’restillreading.Myauthors,forteachingmeeverythingIknowaboutwritingandforthegreatprivilegeofworkingonyourbooks.SpecialthankstoAshleyAudrain,SamanthaM.Bailey,andKarmaBrownforearlysupportwhenIneededitmost.AdriaIwasutiak,publicistextraordinaireandloyalfriendwithinandbeyondpublishing.JorgeGidiDelgadilloandSarahFulton,withloveandgratitudeforwalkingwithmeonanexquisitejourneyandforsharingaloveofstoryfromourverybeginnings.PatandFerielPagni,voraciousreadersandnewfamily,deartomyheart.Myfriends,especiallyZoeMaslow,RobertoVerdecchia,EdInnocenzi,AileenUmaliRistandEricRist,RyanWilsonandSandyGabriele,JimenaOrtuzar,MartinOrtuzar,andIngridNasager—Ithankmyluckystarsforallofyou.AuntSuzanne,thebestcleanerandmostlovingauntaniececouldaskfor.TonyHanyk,myfirstandkindestreader,andmylovingpartnerinmanyglorious(yes,glorious)adventures.Andfinally,specialthanksareowedtomyfamily,thePronovosts,formakingmewhoIam—JackieandPaul,mymomanddad;DanandPatty,mybrotherandsister-and-law;DevinandJoane,mynephewandniece.Longmaywetellourstories,andlongmaywelivethem.ABOUTTHEAUTHORNITAPROSEisalongtimeeditor,servingmanybestsellingauthorsandtheirbooks.ShelivesinToronto,Canada,inahousethatisonlymoderatelyclean.Shewouldlovetohearfromyouatnitaprose.comoronTwitterandInstagram:@NitaProseWhat’snextonyourreadinglist?
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