Chapter 15
In the morning the house felt different. Light came through the arched doorways the same way, but the main hall was empty. The puddle from the pitcher was dry now, just a faint ring on the marble that the sun hit at an angle.
Mia and I ate cereal in the kitchen at seven. The catering van had come and gone. Matteo met us at eight by the side door that led to the garage apartment. He had a set of keys and a manila folder.
The apartment was smaller than I'd imagined, but clean. One bedroom with a window over the driveway, a kitchenette with a two-burner stove and a full-size refrigerator, a bathroom with tile, a small living area with a closet. There was a separate entrance with a deadbolt and a mailbox with a number already on it.
"This was the property manager's unit," Matteo said. "It's been empty. Heat and AC work. The lease is month to month at first, in your name. Rent is listed but covered as part of your compensation if you stay employed. If you leave the job, rent stays the same, you just pay it. No tie."
He opened the folder on the counter. Inside was a one-page lease, a work agreement with hours — Monday through Friday, eight to three, no evenings unless I agreed — and a school enrollment confirmation for Mia at her current elementary through June.
Mia walked to the bedroom window and pressed her hand to the glass. "Is this our room?" she asked.
"If you want it," I said. My voice wavered a little. I steadied it. "We'd sleep here. We'd still work in the big house during the day."
She nodded, serious. "We have a lock?"
"We have our own key," I said.
Matteo handed me the key. It was silver, ordinary, on a plain ring. I held it and felt its weight.
At nine thirty, Bianca came out the front door with two suitcases and a garment bag. A car service was waiting. She was dressed simply, in jeans and a blouse, hair pulled back. She didn't wear the champagne dress. Matteo walked out to meet her. I stayed by the side door with Mia, not to hide, but to give them space.
I heard their voices low. Bianca said, "I'm sorry it happened like this." Matteo said, "I hope you find what you want in the city." No drama. She put her suitcases in the trunk herself and got in the back seat. The car pulled down the long driveway and past the gates.
Matteo walked back to us. He didn't make a speech. He just said, "Let's get that ring off the marble."
Back in the main hall, he handed me the mop, but this time he helped. He filled the bucket at the utility sink while I put on the yellow gloves from the laundry. Mia held the dustpan. Together we wiped the faint ring away. The marble shone again, but not with water. With light.
May you like
That afternoon, Matteo hung the chipped pitcher on a high shelf in the garage, not as a decoration but as a reminder. I signed the lease at the kitchen table while Mia drew on the back of an envelope. My name was printed under his, and the date. When I turned the key in our new door for the first time and heard it click, Mia looked up at me and smiled — not the anxious, watery smile from behind the wall, but a small, real one.
We were still in the estate, but we weren't under it anymore. We had a door that locked, hours that ended, and work that didn't require kneeling. That was the resolution. Not loud, not perfect, just solid and ours.
