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I blink. “You do?”
“Of course.” He smiles again. “You’re a lovely girl, Harlow. And you’re smart and strong-willed. I think you’re a good influence on him.”
Um, what? Really?
First of all, if he knew half the insane shit Lincoln and I have gotten into, he’d eat his words so fast he’d get indigestion—not that any of that was my fault.
Second of all, does he really not care that I’m the maid’s daughter? That I’m so much lower on the social strata than his son? Not to mention the fact that my mom’s currently in prison on a felony charge.
Mr. Black is still looking at me with a pleasant expression on his face, obviously waiting for some kind of response from me, so I clear my throat and say, “Well… uh, thank you.”
“Of course.” He takes a sip of his drink and then makes a tsking noise and draws in a deep breath. “But that’s not what I wanted to speak to you about. That’s really between you and Lincoln.”
“What is it then?”
He leans forward a little, his brow creasing as a concerned expression crosses his face. “Harlow, I just wanted to reiterate that you’re welcome to stay here until this whole… unfortunate mess with your mom gets sorted out. I can’t imagine how hard this must be for you, and if having a place to stay takes one stressor off your plate, well then, we’re happy to have you. We’ve got the space, and if you weren’t staying in that guest room, it would be sitting empty. That makes no sense.”
“Thank you.” I tug my bottom lip between my teeth, trying to keep the emotion welling up inside me from spilling over. Now would not be a great time to brea
k down and cry. “It… it means a lot to me, sir. And it means even more to my mom. So, really, thank you.”
“Of course,” he says again, reaching over to pat my knee. He squeezes it gently, then he grimaces. “But the reason I wanted to speak with you is that we will need to hire a new housekeeper while your mom is indisposed. Just temporarily,” he adds quickly, holding up his hands. “When she comes back, she’s welcome to reclaim her old position. We’ve been very happy with her work. And yours.”
“Thank you.”
The words are automatic, as if he and I are playing some kind of call and response game where he says “of course” and I say “thank you”. But my throat closes as I finish speaking, and I have to work hard to keep my face composed.
The fact that he’s even talking about hiring Mom back is a fucking miracle. He’s gone so far above and beyond what an employer owes his employees it’s not even funny. But hearing him talk about this just reminds me how short a time it’s truly been since Mom was arrested, and how long it still might be before she breathes free air again.
He must see the tightening of my expression, because he sighs, setting his glass down on the dark wood end table.
“I’m sorry, Harlow. I know it will be difficult for you to see someone else in what was, to you, your mother’s space. That’s why I wanted to speak to you about it before I hired someone—so it wouldn’t come as a shock to you. But this is a large house, and the upkeep of it can’t wait indefinitely. So for the time being, we need to bring someone new in.”
I force myself to nod, and when I finally get my head to move, it doesn’t stop, bobbling like it’s attached to a spring. “Sure. I understand.”
He draws in a deep breath, his chest expanding against the tailored lines of his suit, then puffs his cheeks out as he releases it. He picks his glass up again, holding it lightly between his fingers. “Good. Thank you, Harlow. I’m truly sorry this is happening. Your mother doesn’t deserve this.”
My stomach twists, and I feel like maybe I should make whatever excuses it takes to end this conversation so I can run upstairs and release the tears that are burning behind my eyes. But instead, I blurt out, “How do you know?”
Mr. Black cocks his head, swirling the dark amber liquid in his glass. “Know what?”
“You said my mom doesn’t deserve this. How do you know? Why do you think she’s innocent?”
His head jerks back a little as his brows pull together. “Harlow, you think she’s innocent, don’t you?”
“Yes. Of course.”
A smile breaks through the look of consternation on his face. “Good. Good.” He takes another sip, hesitating for a moment before he speaks again. “I do too. I like to credit myself with being a fairly good judge of character. In my business, understanding people and why they do the things they do is key. I haven’t known you and your mom for very long, but I feel like I’ve gotten a good handle on who you are—what kind of people you are. And I sincerely don’t believe your mother is capable of what she’s been accused of.”
An ache builds in my chest as he speaks, something both sweet and painful. I had no idea how much I needed to hear another person say that they unequivocally believe my mom is innocent, that they don’t think she has it in her character to murder someone.
To stand with her, despite the evidence building up against her.
“Thank you, Mr. Black,” I whisper, reaching up to swipe at an escaped tear that trails down my cheek.
“Samuel, please.” He smiles gently. “It will be all right, Harlow. I wish there was more I could do, but I have to hope that if we let justice run its course, your mother will be fully exonerated. Then we can put this whole ugly mess behind us.”
“Thank you. Samuel.”
