Silence stretched between them, filled with everything they weren’t saying. June wanted to ask how the meetings were going, whether the vote would happen, whether Melissa was eating and sleeping and taking care of herself. She wanted to tell Melissa she couldn’t stop thinking about her, that the house felt empty without her, that she’d dreamed about her last night and woken up reaching for someone who wasn’t there.
Instead, she said: “You should get some sleep. Big day tomorrow.”
“You’re right. I should.” Another pause. “Goodnight, June.”
“Goodnight, Melissa.”
The line went dead, and June stood in the kitchen for a long moment, phone pressed to her chest, wondering how something could feel so close and so far away at the same time.
Rachel arrived the next evening just after six, a paper bag from Piper and Whisk in hand and the expression she wore when she was pretending to be casual about something.
“I know Mel’s in Salem,” she said before June could speak. “I came to see Lila. She usually gets sad when her mom’s away—hates it, actually, though she’d never admit it.”
“Come in.” June stepped aside. “She’s been okay. Keeping busy helps.”
“That’s the Brandt way. Bury yourself in activity so you don’t have to feel things.” Rachel followed her inside, then paused, studying June’s face with that perceptive gaze. “You look pretty lonely yourself.”
June opened her mouth to deny it, then didn’t. What was the point? Rachel saw everything.
“It’s quiet,” she admitted. “Without her here.”
Rachel set the bag down and looked at her for a moment. “You like her, don’t you.”
It wasn’t really a question. June felt the answer move through her chest, her throat, her face, before she’d decided to show it. She shrugged, a tiny motion that felt enormous.
Rachel’s expression softened. “I thought so.”
Lila was delighted to see her, and they spent twenty minutes on the living room floor debating whether Emperor penguins were superior to King penguins—Lila had very strong opinions—before Lila announced she was going to draw penguins in her notebook and disappeared upstairs. June made tea. They sat at the kitchen island in the quiet.
“I shouldn’t have said anything,” June said. “About—I mean, she’s my employer. It’s completely—”
“Feelings aren’t necessarily inappropriate.” Rachel wrapped her hands around her mug. “What you do with them is a different question.”
“I’m not doing anything with them. I’m just… having them. Inconveniently.”
Rachel smiled. “For what it’s worth, I think she has them too. She just doesn’t know what to call them yet.”
June’s heart stuttered. “You can’t know that.”
“No. But I know Mel. I’ve known her for a long time, through her marriage, through the divorce, through everything.” Rachel paused. “I was there the night Michael told her about the affair. Did you know that?”
“No.”
“She called me at two in the morning. Not crying—Mel doesn’t cry, or at least she didn’t back then. Just this flat, dead voice sayingHe’s been sleeping with his assistant. Can you come over?“ Rachel shook her head. “She’s never asked anything like that, before or since. I stayed with her until dawn. She didn’t say much. Just sat there holding a cup of coffee that went cold.”
June felt her throat tighten. “That’s awful.”
“It was. But what was worse was realizing it had been bad for years, and she’d never told anyone. She’d been carrying it all alone, pretending everything was fine, because that’s what Melissa does.” Rachel met her eyes. “You’re doing what he never did. You notice when she’s struggling. You hold space for her without demanding she perform strength she doesn’t have.”
“That’s just basic decency.”
“You’d think so. But she’s never had it. Not from Michael, not from her parents.” Rachel set down her mug. “Just be patient with her. She’s going to figure this out eventually.” She paused, then added more carefully: “The press is paying close attention to her right now, by the way. Her name is everywhere with this bill. I just want you to be aware that anyone around her is visible too, whether they want to be or not.”
June walked her to the door, something heavy settling in her chest alongside the warmth.
“Thank you for coming,” she said. “And for—all of it.”
“Thank you for taking care of them.” Rachel smiled. “Both of them. They need someone who shows up.”
