As soon as I reach the front steps, the door creaks open before I can reach for the handle. One of the house staff nods politely, steps back to let me in. The estate always smells the same. Cedar and polish, something faintly floral hiding beneath it.
I run my fingers through Axle’s fur as he barrels to my feet, nails clicking softly against the marble as he happily taps. I’m still unwinding my scarf when I hear her voice.
"You're home."
I glance up.
Maria stands at the far end of the hallway, her posture as perfect as ever, hands clasped gently in front of her. She’s wearing soft house clothes - cream slacks, a thin cardigan that falls past her hips - and no jewelry for once. Just her, stripped of all the gold and expectation.
“Yeah,” I say, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “Long day.”
She steps forward slowly, almost cautiously, like she’s afraid of spooking me.
“Did everything go well at the café?” she asks.
There’s something in her tone, a realness that wasn’t there when I first arrived at the estate. Less performative. More... maternal, maybe. Like she’s trying to build a bridge, one question at a time.
I shrug out of my coat. “It was steady. Mornings are usually the rush, but we got a weird lunch crowd today. Probably because of the weather.”
She nods like she’s cataloging every word. “I wish I could go, see you in your element.”
I glance over at her. “It’s not much of an element. Just coffee and croissants.”
“But it’s yours,” she says softly. “And I’d like to know more about the things that are yours. But the treaty…”
I pause, not quite knowing what to say to that.
She gestures toward the sitting room. “Come. Sit. You must be tired.”
I follow her in and sink into one of the tufted velvet chairs while she pours tea from the set already laid out on the table. There’s a tiny plate of butter cookies beside the pot, clearly she’d been waiting for me. Maybe hoping.
Cameron isn’t here. I notice the quiet immediately. No sharp click of his shoes down the hallway, no rustle of his ever-present papers, no lingering shadow of his watchful presence.
“Where’s Cam?” I ask.
“He had to leave for Italy this afternoon. Business.” She passes me a cup, then sits across from me. “He’ll be back in two days. You’ll have to forgive his behavior lately.”
I take a sip of the tea. It’s honeyed and floral and soothing in a way I don’t expect. “I was wondering why he’s acting so weird.”
She turns her eyes to the ceiling, then back to me. “I don’t want to keep you in the dark, there’s just a lot going on right now and Cameron is on high alert.” She watches me carefully. “Did anything... unusual happen today?”
I glance up. Her tone is casual, but her eyes betray something else. Concern? Curiosity? I can’t quite pin it.
“No,” I say honestly. “It was quiet.”
She smiles a little, nods, and rests her hands in her lap. The silence that follows isn’t uncomfortable. Just fragile.
“I used to dream about moments like this,” she says quietly, surprising me. “Coming home from my own errands, finding my daughter in the kitchen or the garden, asking her about her day.”
Her eyes meet mine, and they shine. Not with tears, exactly, but something near it. Regret maybe. Or longing. Maybe both.
“I know I can’t make up for lost time,” she continues. “But I’d still like to know who you are now. What you love. What you hate. Anything you’re willing to share.”
I run my finger along the rim of the teacup, staring down into the pale golden liquid. “I don’t know what I love right now,” I admit. “I’m still figuring it out.”
“That’s fair.” Her voice is soft. “But you don’t have to figure it out alone.”
I glance at her, unsure what to say. Unsure how much of me I’m even ready to offer. Things were headed into such a positive direction, but the normal life routines have made me hide from them both.
