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“Ah,” he replied as he paced back and forth in front of the stand. “Soyou omitted the whole truth. You refused to clarify. That, too, is a lie, Molly.” He eyed the judge, who tilted her chin down ever so slightly. I thought that maybe Charlotte would intervene, but she didn’t. She was still and quiet at her bench.
“And can you please enlighten us, Molly, as to why you failed—countless times—to clarify to investigators your claim that ‘someone else was in the room’ and that this person was holding a pillow?”
“Because I was…”
“Was what, Molly? You strike me as someone rarely at a loss for words, so have out with it. This is your chance.”
“I wasn’t one hundred percent sure what it was I’d seen. I’ve learned to doubt myself and my perceptions of the world around me. I do realize I’m different, you know, different from most. What I perceive isn’t what you perceive. Plus, people don’t always listen to me. I’m often afraid I won’t be believed, that my thoughts will be discounted. I’m just a maid, a nobody. And what I saw in that moment, it felt like a dream, but I know now that it was real. Someone with a deep motive killed Mr. Black. And that wasn’t me,” I said. I looked at Rodney then, and he looked at me. There was a look on his face that was entirely new. It was as though, for the very first time, he was seeing me for who I really am.
The courtroom erupted and the judge called for order once more. I was asked several other questions, which I answered, clearly and politely. But I knew nothing else I said would matter. I knew this because I could see Charlotte on the bench. And she was smiling, a smile that was new for me, one that I would add to the catalog in my mind, filed underAfor “awe.” I’d surprised her, shocked her completely, but I had not made a total mess of things. Everything was going our way. That’s what her smile said.
And she was right. Things did go our way.
As I think back on it now, on everything that happened in that courtroom yesterday, I can’t help but smile myself.
I snap out of my recollections when I see Sunitha and Sunshine heading toward me. They’ve just arrived for the start of our shift.They’re perfectly dressed in their uniforms, their hair neatly pinned back. They stand in front of me silently, which is quite usual for Sunitha and most unusual for Sunshine.
“Good morning, ladies,” I say. “I hope you’re looking forward to another day of returning rooms to a state of perfection.”
They still say nothing. Finally, Sunshine speaks. “Just go on. Tell her!”
Sunitha takes a step forward. “I wanted to say: you caught the snake. The grass is clean now, thank you.”
I don’t exactly know what she’s trying to say, but I can tell she’s paying me a compliment.
“We all want a clean hotel, do we not?”
“Oh yes,” she says. “Clean means green!”
This pleases me immensely because she’s quoting something I said in a recent maid training session. If we work to make things clean, we’ll make a lot of green.By green, I meant money—tips, bills. I thought that was quite clever, and I’m pleased she remembered.
“Big tips today and big tips in the future!” she says.
“Which is good for us all,” I say. “Shall we?”
And without further delay, we get behind our trolleys and push onward.
But just as we make it to the elevators, my phone buzzes in my pocket.
The elevator doors open. “You two go ahead. I’ll take the next one up,” I say.
Off they go together, which gives me a moment to check my phone. It’s probably Juan Manuel. He often sends text messages throughout the day, little things to make me smile—a picture of us eating ice cream at the park, or an update about his family back home.
But it’s not Juan Manuel. It’s an email from my bank. Instantly, I feel my stomach sink. I can’t bear the thought of bad financial news. I open it and read the message:
SANDY CAYMAN has sent you $10,000 (U.S.) and the money has been automatically deposited into your account.
And under “Special message,” three words: Debt of Gratitude.
At first, I think it must be a mistake. But then it dawns on me. Sandy Cayman. Sandy beaches. The Cayman Islands.
Giselle.
Giselle sent me a gift. And that’s where she is—on her favorite island in the villa that she wanted so badly, a villa she asked Mr. Black to put in her name hours before his death. Mr. Black relented. He gave in. That was revealed in court by Rodney’s defense team. When he left the suite on the last day of his life, after throwing his wedding ring at Giselle, he had a change of heart. He grabbed the deed for the villa in the Caymans out of the safe. I happened to see it in his breast pocket when he nearly bowled me over in the hallway. Despite the argument with Giselle, he went directly to his lawyers and had them put the villa in Giselle’s name. That was the last bit of business he conducted before returning to the hotel. It explained a lot….
I imagined Giselle on a lounge chair in the sun, finally getting what she always wanted, just not the way she expected. Somehow, she had money now, too, even if it wasn’t Mr. Black’s—money to make amends.
She’d sent me a gift. An enormous, Fabergé-enhancing gift.
