Chapter 2 - The Drawing in the Master Study
By noon that day, the incident on the driveway had sent shockwaves through the thirty staff members and security personnel of the Long Island estate.
Instead of being fired and escorted off the property with our two suitcases, I was summoned to the grand master study on the second floor.
The room was vast, paneled in dark quarter-sawn walnut, smelling of pipe tobacco, aged leather, and rain. Towering leaded-glass windows overlooked the gray expanse of Long Island Sound.
Alessandro sat behind a massive antique desk that had belonged to his grandfather. Beside him stood Frank Callahan, the chief corporate counsel for the Romano family’s legitimate shipping and real estate empire, alongside Thomas Reed, the senior estate administrator who managed household accounts and security clearances.
Lily sat on the plush velvet chesterfield sofa near the roaring limestone fireplace, swinging her small legs, coloring on a massive pad of drawing paper Mrs. Gable had provided alongside a plate of warm chocolate chip cookies.
I stood three paces before the desk, my hands folded neatly over my apron. "Mr. Romano, I have compiled an itemized schedule to reimburse the estate for any detailing or paint restoration—"
"Stop talking about reimbursement, Clara," Alessandro interrupted, his voice smooth as polished stone.
He slid a leather-bound folder across the mahogany desk toward me.
"Under Section Four of the estate domestic charter," Alessandro explained, "I am restructuring your employment. You are no longer assigned to general floor maintenance. You are appointed as the Personal Residential Coordinator for the master wing."
I blinked in pure disbelief. "Mr. Romano... that position oversees the private family archives, the second-floor living quarters, and master scheduling."
"I am aware of what the position entails, Clara," Alessandro said, his gray eyes locking onto mine with piercing intensity. "You spent eleven years in luxury hotel operations before your husband passed. You know how to manage sensitive environments, you don't gossip, and you are the only person in this house whose daughter had the courage to tell me the truth about my own face."
Thomas Reed adjusted his gold wire-rimmed glasses, stepping forward with a polite, deferential smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Don Alessandro, with all due respect, Clara has only been with us for eight months. The residential coordinator holds master keycard access to the subterranean server rooms and the maritime communication vaults. Protocol typically requires five years of vetted tenure."
Alessandro slowly turned his head toward Thomas.
"My decision is final, Thomas," Alessandro said quietly. "Issue her the gold credentials by two o'clock."
Thomas bowed stiffly. "Of course, Don Alessandro."
As Thomas turned to leave the room, Lily looked up from her sofa, holding her red crayon poised over a fresh sheet of paper.
She stared intently at Thomas Reed’s right hand as he picked up his leather briefcase from the side table.
"Mommy," Lily said, her clear little voice ringing across the silent room.
"Yes, sweetheart?" I answered, walking over to her sofa.
May you like
Lily pointed her red crayon at the corner of Thomas’s briefcase.
"Why does the man with the glasses have the same red spider sticker on his bag as the man who hid under the black car this morning?"
