Chapter 10
Bianca came back from Palm Springs on Tuesday morning with a white bakery box and a printed invitation on thick paper.
I was folding laundry in the laundry room when she set the box on the table. Mia was in her room with the door cracked, drawing at the small desk Matteo had moved in there.
"Elena," Bianca said. Her voice was even, pleasant. The way she'd sounded when she held the pitcher. "I brought almond croissants. For you and Mia."
I thanked her. I didn't open the box.
She slid the invitation across the table toward me. It was embossed. Bellandi Foundation Summer Reception. Saturday, seven p.m., at the estate. Lawn, string lights, catering.
"Matteo agreed it should be here," she said. "It's good for the foundation. Good for us to host together before the wedding. The caterers will need someone who knows the kitchen. The housekeeping team will need someone who knows the linens and the floors."
I looked at the invitation. My name wasn't on it.
"Are you asking me to work the event?" I asked.
"I'm asking you to be part of it," she said. "Paid, of course. Double rate. It's Saturday. Mia can stay in your room or the apartment, whichever you prefer. You would be visible but not front and center. Polishing glassware, refreshing the buffet. Simple."
Matteo found me twenty minutes later in the kitchen. He'd seen the invitation on the counter.
"She told me about the gala," he said. "I said yes to the venue, not to the staffing. You don't have to work it. I can bring in outside staff."
"It's double rate," I said.
"That's not why she's asking," he said.
I knew. I had felt it as soon as she said polishing glassware. The pitcher would be there. I would be kneeling or bending or serving while she stood in that champagne dress in front of donors.
"If I say no, it looks like I'm refusing," I said. "If I say yes, I'm on her floor again."
Matteo leaned against the counter. "What do you want to do?"
I thought about the garage apartment keys still sitting on my dresser. I hadn't signed the lease yet. I hadn't said yes.
"I want to work it but not on the marble," I said. "Kitchen only. No serving on the floor where it happened."
He nodded. "I'll tell her that. Kitchen and back hallway only. You don't carry trays through the main room."
Bianca accepted without argument when Matteo told her that afternoon in the office. She smiled and said of course, whatever made me comfortable. Then she added, "We'll need the good glassware though. The cut-glass pitcher for water on the buffet. Elena knows how to make it shine."
May you like
That night I went to the garage apartment alone and stood at the sink looking at that window. The estate glowed across the short stretch of lawn. I could see the arched doorway where I'd knelt, lit up for the coming party. I hadn't told Mia about Saturday yet. I knew she'd ask if she had to see Bianca in her pretty dress again.
I locked the apartment door behind me when I left. The click was loud in the quiet. It was my lock now, even without the signed paper. I slipped the key in my pocket and walked back toward the main house to tell Mia she'd be staying with Mrs. Dalton, the sitter Matteo had offered, in the apartment far from the music and the guests.
