« They need her, » she finally said. « They need her more. »
« You’re her father, Brian, » Grace’s voice broke. « I’m just… »
« No »—the word came out harsher than intended. « Don’t say it’s just something. »
« You saved them, » Brian said quietly. « You saved us. And I’m not going to let you get away with it just because you think you have to choose between your family and mine. »
—What are you saying?
Brian pulled an envelope from his jacket. « I made some calls this morning. Your brother’s tuition is covered. All four years. Room and board. Books. Everything. »
Grace brought her hand to her mouth. « Brian, I can’t… »
—It’s done. Anonymous donation.
—Why would I do that?
« Because I’m selfish, » Brian’s voice was raw. « Because the thought of you leaving… » He stopped. « Because you gave my children something I couldn’t. Joy. Security. Love. And I’m asking you, begging you, to stay. »
Tears streamed down Grace’s face.
« Not as an employee, » Brian continued. « As family. I want to name her her legal guardian. I want… » His voice broke. « I want her to stay. »
« Okay, » she whispered, tears still falling. « I’ll stay. »
Brian exhaled, relieved.
But neither of them saw the Mercedes coming through the gates. The Scorch Trial.
Saturday morning. Chaos. Brian, Grace, and the boys making pancakes. Flour everywhere. Laughter.
The doorbell rang. Brian opened it. His blood ran cold.
Patricia. Catherine’s mother. Impeccably dressed. Sharp eyes.
« Hi, Brian, » he said, walking in uninvited. « I was in the area. I thought I’d visit my grandchildren. »
Patricia walked toward the kitchen. She stopped in the doorway. Brian was wearing an apron. Grace was at the stove. The boys were covered in flour, laughing.
Patricia’s expression didn’t change, but her eyes said it all.
The rest of the morning was unbearable. Patricia observed. She criticized. She asked pointed questions about Grace’s responsibilities. Grace remained professional.
That night, Patricia cornered Brian in the studio.
—We need to talk. About her.
—Her name is Grace.
—I know. I also know she’s gotten too comfortable. The boys are clinging to her. It’s inappropriate. She’s creating a dependency that will devastate them when she leaves. Because people like her always leave.
Brian stood up. « What’s that supposed to mean? »
—You know it. She’s the maid, Brian. Let’s not pretend this is anything else.
In the hallway, Grace froze. She was going to get towels. People like her always leave. She’s the maid. The words hurt her more than anything in years. She’d started to believe she belonged here. Patricia’s voice was like a mirror. It showed her the truth.
I didn’t belong in this world. I never would.
Grace put down the towels. She walked away.
Inside, Brian’s voice was firm. « Grace is staying as family. I’ll appoint her as my legal guardian. »
« It can’t be serious, » Patricia’s face paled.
—I have never been more serious.
« Then he’s a fool. » Patricia left. « This is going to end badly, Brian. And when it does, don’t say I didn’t warn you. »
She left. Brian sat down. He didn’t know Grace had heard. He didn’t know the damage was already done.
Grace. Presence. Family.
The next morning, everything was different.
« Good morning, Mr. Churchill, » Grace said. Her voice was polite. Distant. Mr. Churchill. Not Brian.
He felt the change. A closed door. A wall.
Sunday lunch. Patricia insisted. Formal meal. She invited people. Grace in the kitchen, helping to serve.
Patricia served pasta. Elegant. With seafood.
See more on the next page
Advertisement
