● CHAPTER 3: The Housekeeper’s Secret
Mrs. Delaney was sixty-two years old and had served the Whitaker family longer than Adrian had been alive. She had polished the nursery floor before Ava came home. She had ironed Lillian’s blue dress for the last family photo. She had also been the one who closed the nursery door after the funeral, though there had been no body to bury.
Now she stood in the entrance hall shaking like a woman about to confess to a crime.
“Mrs. Delaney,” Adrian said, “tell me everything.”
Celeste stepped between them. “Adrian, this is emotional manipulation. You are in shock.”
Adrian looked past her. “Mrs. Delaney.”
The housekeeper’s eyes filled.
“She came yesterday.”
Celeste’s head whipped around. “What?”
Mrs. Delaney clasped her hands. “The child came yesterday evening when you were in Boston. She was soaked from the rain. She had a backpack and asked for you. Miss Marrow said you were not to be disturbed.”
“I was in Boston,” Adrian said slowly.
“Yes, sir. So I offered to let the child wait in the kitchen.”
Celeste’s voice sharpened. “You did what?”
“She was cold.”
“She was trespassing.”
“She was a child.”
The words came out stronger than Mrs. Delaney expected. She seemed surprised by her own courage.
Nora stared at the old woman as if a door had opened.
Mrs. Delaney continued, “Miss Marrow told security to put her out. The child ran through the garden. This morning she came back. I think she was trying to reach the front hall because her mother told her to. She knocked over the bowl when Marcus grabbed her arm.”
Marcus, the security guard, swallowed. “I didn’t mean for her to fall.”
Adrian looked at him.
The guard’s shoulders dropped. “Miss Marrow said the kid was a scam. Said if she got inside, she’d ruin everything.”
“Everything?” Adrian repeated.
Celeste exhaled as if surrounded by idiots. “Yes, everything. Your reputation. The gala. The merger. Your peace. Do you know how many people try to exploit old tragedies? This could be a setup.”
Nora whispered, “I don’t want money.”
Adrian turned to her. “What do you want?”
The girl looked at the marble floor. “I want to know if my mom was telling the truth.”
“About what?”
“That my dad wasn’t bad.”
The hall became unbearable.
Adrian felt the bracelet in his palm like a live thing.
Nora fumbled with her backpack and pulled out a plastic sandwich bag. Inside was a folded page, soft from being carried too long. She handed it to him.
He opened it carefully.
The handwriting was Lillian’s.
His wife’s handwriting.
Adrian’s knees almost failed.
The note was short.
If you are reading this, I did not make it. Take Ava to the house where the floor turns gold in the afternoon. Adrian will know the bracelet. Tell him I did not leave him. Tell him I fought to come home.
At the bottom was a second line written in shakier script.
Do not trust the woman with the white roses.
Adrian looked up.
May you like
Celeste wore white silk.
And pinned near her collarbone was a small white rose brooch.
