Chapter 11
Elodie moved out of staff housing.
I thought she was leaving.
She laughed when I asked.
“No.”
“Then why?”
“Because I can afford an apartment now.”
Right.
Wages.
Funny concept.
She found a small place near her son’s school.
Two bedrooms.
Nothing glamorous.
She showed Ivy—no Ivy here.
Wrong world. Stop. Need no cross story. We must stay in world. Let's fix: she showed our senior housekeeper Mara? We haven't introduced. Better avoid named new person.
She showed one of the kitchen staff photographs.
Yellow curtains.
Tiny balcony.
Her son wanted a blue bedroom.
Normal.
I offered security.
She declined.
“Too much.”
Accepted.
I was learning.
At work, she stopped kneeling to collect coins because there were no coin Fridays anymore.
Obvious sentence.
Still satisfying.
Celia?
Gone from my house.
Not from the city.
She took a job running events for a small gallery.
No Marden role.
Wallace cut her off financially.
She accepted.
That surprised me.
Months later she sent every affected family a repayment from the jewelry she sold.
Not enough to cover everything.
A start.
Elodie received one envelope.
Did not open it for a week.
Then did.
Money.
And a note.
I made you ask for what was already yours. I’m sorry.
Elodie showed me.
“Do I answer?”
“Your choice.”
She hated that.
Everyone does.
Eventually she wrote one line:
Do not do it to anyone else.
No forgiveness.
No cruelty.
Boundary.
Then her son came to the house once.
Not as future help.
As her child.
Six years old.
Micah.
He stood in the kitchen staring at the dessert tray.
I crouched.
“Hungry?”
Elodie looked alarmed.
Apparently I still sound threatening when asking children about cake.
Micah nodded.
I handed him one.
He asked:
“Do I owe you?”
My chest tightened.
Six.
Already learned the word.
“No.”
“Mom says nothing free.”
Smart mother.
“This is.”
He looked at Elodie.
She nodded.
He ate.
Then asked for another.
Economic theory destroyed instantly.
I gave him one.
Elodie rolled her eyes.
May you like
Normal.
Good.
