Chapter 14 - Take Off the Ring
I waited until Emma had Bruno settled on the folded blanket in the back hallway before I asked Vanessa to step into the study. The house was still too warm from the dinner, the chandelier light spilling out from the dining room across the checkered marble where Bruno's wet prints had started to dry to dull marks. Guests were gone. The caterers moved quiet around the tables. I could hear the clink of plates being stacked and someone turning off the burners in the kitchen.
Vanessa followed me in with her wine glass still in her hand. She'd refilled it at some point. Her updo had loosened, one strand down by her neck. The diamond necklace caught the desk lamp when she turned.
I closed the door behind us. Not hard. Just enough that the latch caught.
"This doesn't have to be tonight," she said. "We've both had too much to drink, and everyone's emotional. We can talk tomorrow when it's clear."
I stood by the edge of the desk. My suit jacket was damp at the knees from the floor. My hands still smelled like wet dog.
"It's going to be tonight," I said. "I need it to be clear."
She set her glass down on the side table, then picked it up again. "Luca. I already told you. I thought he was sick. The vet said his hips, his age. I made a call I thought was kinder. I didn't do it to hurt you."
"You told me he died," I said. "You told the staff not to go in the garage. You canceled his appointment on Tuesday and didn't make another one."
Her eyes flicked to the door, then back to me. "Who told you that? Emma? She's a maid, Luca. She doesn't understand what it costs to run this house during an engagement dinner."
"Emma carried him out because his bowl was empty," I said. "I saw the bowl. I saw the lock."
For a second she didn't answer. The clock over the bookshelf ticked. Down the hall, I heard a low whine, then Emma's voice, soft, settling him.
Vanessa lifted her chin. "So that's it? You're choosing a dog and a maid over me? Over my family, over everything we've planned?"
I shook my head. "I'm choosing not to live like this. I can't be with someone I have to check up on."
I reached into my inside pocket and took out the small box I'd kept in the desk since spring. Not the ring I'd given her — that was on her hand. This was the paperwork. The venue deposit, the planner contract. I set them on the desk between us.
"I don't want to fight about it," I said. "The engagement is over."
She stared at me. "Just like that."
"Just like that," I said. "Calm. No press, no scene. I'll call your father tomorrow myself."
"You can't be serious," she said, her voice thin. "After two years, you're throwing it away in one night because the dog looks bad for a night?"
"He didn't look bad for a night," I said. "He was locked up for days."
She looked down at her left hand. The ring caught the light. Big oval stone, thin band. I'd picked it with her mother at a jeweler downtown, thinking I was doing it right. She twisted it once, then again, and then she slid it off.
She held it for a moment in her palm. Then she set it on the desk next to the contracts. It made a small click against the wood.
"I hope he lives a long time," she said. "Really. I hope you both get what you want."
I nodded. "Thank you for leaving quiet."
She picked up her wine glass again. She didn't drink from it. She just held it, like she needed something to do with her right hand now that the ring was off. She walked to the door and opened it herself.
Emma was in the hallway with Bruno lying at her feet, his head on his paws, breathing slow. Emma stood up fast when she saw us, wiping her hands on her apron.
Vanessa stopped. She looked at Emma, at the dog, and something crossed her face I couldn't name. Not sorry. Tired, maybe.
"Goodbye, Bruno," she said, and walked past them toward the front stairs.
I watched until I heard the front door open and the night air come in, then close again. The driver had been waiting out front. I heard the car start on the driveway and fade down the county road.
Emma didn't move. "Sir?" she said.
I turned back to her. Bruno lifted his head a little, his gray muzzle resting against her shoe.
"Come in the kitchen with me a minute," I said.
Mrs. Patel was there with two of the catering leads, stacking trays. They went quiet when I walked in.
I didn't make a speech. I kept it short.
"The engagement is off," I said. "That's my decision. No one else's. I want it understood in this house — Emma did the right thing tonight. She is not fired, she is not reassigned, and there will be no retaliation from anyone for what happened in the dining room. If anyone has a problem with that, you bring it to me."
Mrs. Patel nodded once. "Yes, sir."
One of the caterers looked at the floor. The other said, "Understood."
I looked at Emma. "You good with that?"
She swallowed. "Yes, sir. Thank you."
"I'm moving Bruno upstairs to my room for the night," I said. "Warm. I need a clean sheet, a dry blanket, and his bed from the laundry if it's dry. And a bowl of water. No food until the vet says."
"I'll bring it up," Mrs. Patel said.
It took both of us to get him up the stairs. He tried to stand on his own, his back legs shaking, nails clicking on the hardwood. Halfway up he stopped and leaned hard into my leg, panting. Emma stayed in front of him with her hand under his chin, talking low the whole way, and I kept my hand on his back, feeling his ribs move under the damp fur.
My bedroom was cooler than downstairs, the tall windows dark blue now, the bedside lamp on. I laid the dry blanket out by the vent where the heat came up. Bruno circled once, slow, then sank down with a grunt. Emma set the water bowl down close to his nose. He sniffed it, then drank — long, careful laps, stopping to breathe, then starting again.
I sat on the floor next to him. My knees ached. The tattoo on my hand was stretched where my skin was still damp.
Emma stood by the door with the empty laundry basket, not sure if she should stay or go.
"Stay a minute," I said. "Just until he settles."
She sat down on the edge of the rug, her cap a little crooked, her cuffs damp. Bruno sighed and laid his head flat, his eyes half closing.
The house went quiet underneath us. No music. No glasses. Just the vent blowing warm air over the three of us and the dog breathing.
May you like
I put my hand on his head and kept it there.
"We're good for tonight," I said.
