Chapter 8
I was back in the pantry stacking the gold chargers when Vanessa found me.
It was after midnight. The dining room had finally emptied. I'd been moving on autopilot, carrying plates two at a time from the black marble table to the service corridor, the champagne flutes leaving wet rings on my tray. Rosa had gone to lie down in the small guest room down the hall. Luca had walked her there himself, his hand light on her elbow. I could hear the soft click of that door closing, and then the apartment went quiet except for the clink of porcelain.
The pantry was narrow, floor-to-ceiling shelves packed with extra stemware and folded linens. The light was a single warm bulb. I had just set a stack of chargers on the counter and was wiping the rim of one with my cloth when the doorway darkened.
Vanessa didn't turn the light up. She stepped inside and pulled the pocket door halfway closed behind her. She'd taken off her heels. Her red sequined gown still caught the light every time she moved. Her blonde updo was still perfect.
She didn't raise her voice. That was the point.
"You're still here," she said.
I nodded. My throat was dry. "I'm finishing the table, ma'am."
She looked at the chargers, at my hands, at the white cloth I was holding. She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes.
"I need you to understand something, Emma," she said quietly. "What happened tonight. That was insubordination."
I kept my hands on the charger. I didn't answer.
"You brought his mother up after I explicitly said she was ill," she went on. Her voice stayed soft, even. "You contradicted me in front of our guests. You embarrassed Luca at his own engagement dinner. Do you understand how that looks?"
I breathed in through my nose. The pantry smelled like lemon polish and stale champagne.
"I told the truth," I said.
Her smile thinned. "You tried to manipulate him. With sentiment. That little bowl, that whole performance downstairs. You thought if you made him feel guilty enough, he'd turn on me."
That wasn't what had happened and she knew it. I hadn't performed anything. I'd just answered when Luca asked me where I'd gotten the bowl.
"I didn't try to manipulate anyone," I said.
Vanessa stepped closer. Not close enough to touch, but close enough that I could smell her perfume and see the small line between her eyebrows.
"Listen to me," she said. "I am the woman of this house. Or I will be. Staff do not make decisions about family. Staff do not decide who sits at the table. If you do it again, I will terminate you. Personally."
The word hung there in the narrow space.
She let it sit for a second, then added, "And I will make sure your reference reflects that. That you are emotional. That you overstep. You won't get another house in this building. You won't get one downtown, either. People talk."
My hands had gone cold around the charger. I thought about rent. I thought about the agency, about how they'd told me when they placed me here that Luca paid well and paid on time, that I shouldn't mess it up. I thought about Rosa eating alone in the kitchen with her soup getting cold while everyone upstairs had lobster.
Vanessa must have seen something in my face because she tilted her head a little, almost kind.
"So just say you understand," she said. "Apologize for overstepping. We can move on. Tonight was stressful for everyone."
I should have just said it. It would have been one sentence and I could have kept my head down and kept my job safe for another month. My mouth was already shaping the words out of habit.
But I couldn't.
I set the charger down carefully so it didn't clatter.
"I understand you're upset," I said. My voice was quiet and it shook a little. "But I'm not going to apologize for telling the truth. You said his mother was sick and couldn't come. She was downstairs. She was eating alone in the kitchen. Mr. Moretti asked me and I answered him."
Vanessa's eyes narrowed. The composure slipped for just a second, her jaw tightening.
"So you don't understand," she said.
"I understand what you're asking me to do," I said. "I just won't say something that wasn't true."
We stood there in that little room with the bulb buzzing overhead. Somewhere out in the apartment a door closed softly.
Vanessa looked at me for a long moment, then she stepped back and slid the pocket door open again. The dining room light fell in across the floor.
"Finish the chargers," she said, her tone flat now. "And stay out of sight until morning."
She walked out, her bare feet silent on the marble.
I didn't move right away. I listened to her footsteps fade down the hall toward the dressing suite. Then I pulled my phone out of my apron pocket. My hands were still shaking.
May you like
I opened the notes app and typed the time. 12:17 a.m. Pantry. What she said, as close to word for word as I could get. Threatened termination for insubordination. Said she would ruin reference. I added what I'd said back. I didn't know if it would matter, but I'd watched enough houses where the staff's word disappeared the next day.
I locked the phone and put it back in my pocket. I picked up the cloth again and started wiping the next charger, slow circles, breathing steady until my hands stopped shaking.
