Chapter 13 - THE HOUSE WITHOUT SERVANTS
Reed sold Kincaid Manor.
Everyone thought impossible.
The family had owned it sixty years.
Captains called it symbol.
Reed called it bad plumbing.
Nenah laughed for ten minutes.
Truth:
Too much history.
Too many hidden corridors.
Too many rooms where people made decisions for others.
He kept small city townhouse.
Still luxurious by normal standards.
No live-in staff.
A cleaner twice weekly.
He learned laundry badly.
Nenah refused to fix his shirts.
Healthy.
Then one evening Reed cooked for her.
Chicken porridge.
The first dish she ever brought him.
He had practiced.
Still too salty.
She ate.
“You’re lying.”
“It’s terrible.”
He sighed.
“Thank you.”
They laughed.
Then Reed asked:
“Move in?”
Nenah looked at him.
“No.”
He nodded.
No argument.
“Ask me next year.”
Hope.
One year later:
“Yes.”
But they chose new place together.
Not his townhouse.
Not her apartment.
Condo near lake.
Equal decisions.
Separate assets.
Trust hers.
Reed holdings his.
Prenup draft even before proposal?
Nenah insisted relationship contracts did not require ring.
They signed cohabitation agreement.
Dante called it unromantic.
Carolyn called it intelligent.
Then Samuel became ill.
Not dramatic.
Heart condition.
Nenah spent more time with him.
One afternoon he gave her old photograph of Evelyn.
Not hospital.
Twenty years old.
Laughing beside lake.
Nenah stared.
“I look like her.”
“A little.”
“Do I act like her?”
Samuel smiled.
“Unfortunately.”
She laughed.
Then he said:
“I’m sorry I didn’t find you.”
Nenah looked at him.
“You thought I was dead.”
“I should have questioned Marshall.”
Maybe.
But grief manipulates evidence too.
She held his hand.
“I’m glad you’re here now.”
That was enough.
Samuel recovered after surgery.
Then Second Table received Michelin mention.
Not star.
Mention.
Nenah celebrated as if Nobel Prize.
Reed bought champagne.
Appropriate.
Then he proposed three months later.
Not restaurant.
Not kitchen.
At lakefront bench.
No audience.
“Nenah Blake.”
“Yes?”
“I have a very long speech.”
“No.”
He smiled.
“Good.”
Then:
“I spent most of my life believing love meant protecting people from consequences by choosing for them.”
She listened.
“I learned that is fear wearing authority.”
Good.
“I don’t want you beneath my name.”
Her eyes filled.
“I don’t want your shares.”
“Good.”
“I don’t want you because you were kind to me when everyone else wanted something.”
Important.
“I want you because after learning exactly what I am, you still make me work for every honest version of myself.”
Nenah laughed.
Then:
“Will you marry me?”
She thought.
Long enough to make him suffer.
“Yes.”
Reed closed eyes.
Relief.
Then:
“Prenup.”
“Already drafted.”
She stared.
He panicked.
“Separate attorneys.”
She laughed.
May you like
“You’ve learned.”
“Painfully.”
