Chapter 9 - The Kitchen Entrance
I didn't use the front entrance that morning. I parked around back by the kitchen delivery doors of the hotel and carried a paper bag with coffee and rolls like I was trying not to be seen doing something decent.
That morning I told myself I just wanted to check she slept okay. The truth was I hadn't slept at all. Vanessa had stayed in the guest room with the door locked, and I'd sat in my office until the candles burned down to nothing.
Emma opened the door to Rosa's room before I knocked twice. She'd stayed the night on the cot the hotel brought up. "She's up," she said quietly. "She's been up."
Rosa was sitting by the window in her dark coat, even though the heat was on. The metal pie pan sat washed and upside down on the desk. When she saw me she stood too fast and had to steady herself on the chair.
"Mrs. Miller," I said. "You didn't have to get up."
She smiled at the coffee. "You remembered I take it black."
I set the bag down and noticed her bag on the bed. It was an old tote, the handles taped. Inside, folded on top, was a white envelope that had been opened and refolded so many times the crease was soft. She saw me looking and didn't hide it fast enough.
Emma looked away. That told me enough.
I tried to keep it light. "Medicine you need me to pick up? Ride somewhere?" I nodded at the small row of orange bottles by the sink. Three of them. One with yesterday's date circled in pen on the cap.
Rosa shook her head. "I manage."
"Mrs. Miller—"
"Rosa," she said. "When it's just us."
I sat down across from her. The coat bothered me. The lining at the cuff was torn and she'd stitched it with blue thread. "Are you warm enough in that? Let me get you—"
"It's a good coat," she cut in, quick and proud. She pulled it tighter around herself like I was trying to take it.
Emma stepped in then. "Show him," she said softly. "Please."
Rosa stared at her for a long moment. Then she reached into the tote and handed me the envelope. Her hand shook a little.
It was an eviction notice. Thirty days. Past due amount underlined twice. Small apartment on Waverly. I read it twice because the first time I didn't want to believe I'd read it right.
I looked up. "Why didn't you say anything last night?"
She folded her hands. "I didn't come to beg, Luca."
The use of my first name stopped me cold.
"I came to see if you remembered," she said. "After your mother passed, I wondered for years. Emma told me about the dinner in the paper. I thought... I would bring you a pie. If you remembered, that would be enough. If you didn't, I would leave it at the kitchen entrance and go."
I felt my throat close. "Kitchen entrance?"
"That's where I used to drop them off for you boys. Your uncle didn't like strangers in front."
I remembered then. Cold mornings. Her knocking twice on the metal door. The smell of apples and cinnamon steaming in the alley.
"I remember," I said. "I remember every morning."
She nodded, eyes wet but steady. "Good. Then I can go home."
Emma made a small sound. "You can't go back to that apartment without heat, Rosa. Tell him."
"It's not his burden," Rosa said.
"It is mine," I said, louder than I meant to. I softened it. "Please let me help."
Rosa stood and picked up the washed pie pan, holding it with both hands the way she had the night before. "You already did. You said she stays. In front of all those people. That was more than I asked."
I walked with her to the elevator, then down to the side street where morning traffic was picking up. The city smelled like wet concrete and bus exhaust. She let Emma hold her arm on the curb.
Before the car came, I said, "I'm going to drive by Waverly today. Just to see."
Rosa frowned. "Don't make trouble with your landlord for me."
"I'm not promising anything," I said. "Just let me see where I came from."
May you like
She studied my face for a long time. Then she patted my cheek once, the way she used to when I was ten and trying to act tough.
"Wear something warm," she said.
