From the landing, I see the kitchen light is on and hear someone moving around in there. As I get closer, I smell the comforting aroma of baking, and when I round the corner into the kitchen, I find an older woman pulling a tray of something golden and fragrant out of the oven.
She looks up and smiles when she sees me.
This has to be Lotti, Silas’s housekeeper.
It’s good she’s here. She can watch Larissa while I…
“You must be Leonore,” she says.
She looks kind and grandmotherly with wise eyes and a steadiness about her that tells me she’s no fool.
“And you must be Lotti.”
“The one and only.” She points at one of the barstools at the kitchen island. “Now sit and let me fix you a tea for your nerves.Silas filled me in about your friend missing, and I suspect you’re feeling anxious.”
The ease with which she speaks about the matter unnerves me. Then again, if she’s been serving his family for some time now, I imagine she’s quite used to situations such as these. That makes one of us.
“Oh, I was?—”
“Just about to sit down,” she says with a stern smile and gives me a knowing glance. Part of me wonders if she sees through me, as if she knew exactly what I was about to do. Run out of here with the gun Silas left me with the determination of pressing it to Konstantin’s head and pulling the trigger.
But before I can do any of that, I need to make sure Larissa is being left in safe hands, so I sit down at the kitchen island.
“Gia is with Alexis in the guest room at the moment. I think when Larissa wakes up, she and Alexis will become good friends.” I know she means it in a soothing manner, but nothing right now will soften the edges of my nerves.
“I’m sorry, I’m a bit of a wreck,” I say when she places a cup of tea in front of me. It smells like flowers and honey, and when I take a sip, I welcome the warmth that bridles with my boiling blood.
“To be expected.” She breaks open a steaming scone and lathers it with big dollops of butter, then slides it toward me. “Eat something. You’ll feel better with food in you.”
I don’t have an appetite, but I also suspect it will be more difficult to slide past this woman, so I break off a piece and put it in my mouth. It’s delicious but might as well feel like sandpaper going down my throat as I force myself to feign a peaceful existence, just so I can escape her watchful gaze.
“I’ll have breakfast ready for Larissa in the morning. Pancakes, I think. Children always feel better after pancakes.”
“She likes blueberries in hers,” I say quickly, thinking about the Sundays when the three of us would sit around Nessa’s tiny kitchen counter making blueberry pancakes and laughing. My heart twists. “It’s her favorite.”
“Blueberry pancakes it is then,” Lotti says.
The kindness in her voice makes me want to cry, but I refuse to turn into that scared version of myself, so I take another bite of the scone.
“Would you mind sitting with Larissa for a bit?” I say, finishing my scone. “I think I’ll go lie down. Try to get some sleep.”
Lotti looks up from placing the rest of the scones on a drying rack. “Of course I’ll sit with her,” she says, that motherly warmth and kindness touching her gaze. “Try to get some rest.”
“Thank you.”
She nods. But she doesn’t look away, and the weight of her gaze holds me to the barstool.
“You know, I’ve worked for Silas for a long while, and in that time I’ve seen a lot. You get used to reading people. Can tell when they say one thing but might mean another.”
My chest tightens, and my eyes dart to hers.She knows.
“I’m not going to ask you what you’re planning,” she continues. “That’s between you and whatever is taking place inside that head of yours right now. But I will say this. You can trust Silas to fix this. There is not a rock or a mountain that man can’t move. And whatever it is you have in your mind to do, you need to put that aside and let Silas do what he’s going to do.”
“She’s my best friend,” I whisper.
“That’s why you need to trust Silas.”
Easier said than done. I’ve spent six years trusting only myself, and although I do trust him, I don’t want him to be hurt because of me.
