Chapter 8 - THE DEBT THAT NEVER EXISTED
I visited Grace two days after she returned home from the hospital.
Not the staff cottage.
She was staying temporarily with an old friend while independent legal counsel reviewed her employment and housing situation.
I had offered to arrange accommodation.
Grace thanked me but chose her friend's home.
For once, I didn't interpret someone's refusal as a personal insult.
She opened the door wearing a loose sweater and looking tired.
Mia ran toward me.
"Mr. Carter!"
She stopped halfway.
"Am I in trouble?"
My chest tightened.
"No."
"Because I broke your vacuum?"
I almost laughed.
"The vacuum is fine."
"It made a bad noise."
"Then I owe you an apology for giving you such a terrible machine."
She smiled.
It was the first time I'd seen her smile without immediately checking whether an adult approved.
Grace invited me inside.
Sophie sat on the living-room rug, stacking plastic cups.
I placed a folder on the table.
"Your employment records."
Grace became tense.
"What about them?"
"The housing charges, the alleged advances, and the deductions."
I opened the folder.
"Our preliminary review found that several were unauthorized or unsupported."
Grace stared.
"What does that mean?"
"It means we owe you money, not the other way around."
Her eyes filled.
I continued.
"Independent counsel will calculate the full amount, including any other wages and benefits that should have been paid. We're also reviewing the records of every other household employee."
She lowered her head.
"I thought I was being punished for taking time off after Daniel died."
I felt sick.
"Who told you that?"
"Margaret Finch."
Of course.
Grace continued.
"She said your family expected loyalty and that I should be grateful you let us stay in the cottage."
I looked around the modest apartment.
Two little girls.
One grieving mother.
And years of loyalty that had been rewarded with fear.
"I'm sorry."
Grace looked up.
"You didn't know."
"That doesn't erase my responsibility to oversee the people I employ."
She was quiet for a moment.
Then she asked something I hadn't expected.
"Why are you doing this now?"
I could have said it was because I had discovered the fraud.
Because my sister had returned.
Because Mia heard someone crying behind a wall.
Instead, I answered truthfully.
"Because I've spent too long assuming that if I paid someone to manage a problem, I no longer had to understand it."
Grace studied me.
"That's a very expensive mistake."
"Yes."
"And people like us usually pay for it first."
I nodded.
She was right.
Before I left, Mia brought me a drawing.
It showed a large house, a small house, and three people standing between them.
A woman.
A little girl.
A baby.
Then she pointed toward a fourth figure standing beside the big house.
"That's you."
I looked at the tall figure with unusually large hands.
"Why am I standing so far away?"
Mia shrugged.
"Because you live alone."
I stared at the drawing.
She wasn't wrong.
I had inherited an enormous mansion, a complicated business, and a reputation powerful enough to frighten strangers.
But I had no one waiting for me at the dinner table.
Then Mia pointed toward the top corner.
She had drawn another woman standing beside a bookcase.
"Auntie Elena."
I looked up.
"She's not your aunt."
Mia considered that.
"Can she be?"
Grace laughed softly.
I didn't know how to answer.
Later that evening, Elena called me.
She had been reviewing Father's original records with Naomi.
"Roman, we found something."
"What?"
"An old letter Arthur wrote two months before he died."
My stomach tightened.
"To whom?"
"Me."
I stopped breathing.
May you like
Father had known Elena was alive.
And according to the envelope's handwritten instructions, he'd wanted her to return to Boston before his death.
