Chapter 2
She met my eyes.
“Poor people know money solves a lot of things. We also know the difference between help and being purchased.”
Then she continued walking.
I remained in the hallway.
That sentence followed me for days.
Being purchased.
I had spent most of my adult life solving problems with money.
Loyalty.
Silence.
Protection.
Access.
Sometimes fear.
Money had always been useful because it prevented people from asking what something cost me emotionally.
Emma apparently had no interest in making life that convenient.
The next Monday, Luke found me studying employee files.
“You’re becoming domestic.”
“Shut up.”
His gaze dropped to the folder.
EMMA CARTER.
“What are you looking for?”
“Nothing.”
“You opened an employment file for nothing?”
I closed it.
Luke sat opposite me.
“What happened?”
“She visits her mother in Evanston.”
“So?”
“She’s drowning in bills.”
“That tends to happen when long-term care is involved.”
I looked at him.
“How much do we pay the agency?”
Luke told me.
I frowned.
“That’s more than she earns.”
“Agency takes a percentage.”
“A big percentage.”
“That’s how agencies work.”
I tapped the folder.
“Hire her directly.”
Luke’s face went still.
“What?”
“Household staff. Direct payroll. Benefits.”
“She’s been here six weeks.”
“And?”
“And you fired a chef for overcooking asparagus.”
“He did it twice.”
Luke leaned back.
“This isn’t about housekeeping.”
“It’s about agency fees.”
“Of course.”
I ignored him.
“Offer direct employment to everyone who’s been here more than thirty days. Same policy. That way she doesn’t think I singled her out.”
Luke stared at me for several seconds.
Then something almost approving moved through his expression.
“I can do that.”
“Do it quietly.”
“I always do.”
Three days later, Emma appeared in my study holding a contract.
“You.”
I looked up.
“What?”
“You did this.”
“Did what?”
“Health insurance. Retirement contribution. Paid leave.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“You’re a terrible liar.”
I laughed once.
“People have accused me of many things, Carter. That is new.”
She placed the contract on my desk.
“It’s generous.”
“It’s standard.”
“It wasn’t standard last month.”
“We changed policies.”
“Why?”
“Because policies change.”
Her eyes stayed on me.
I looked away first.
That annoyed me.
“Sign it or don’t.”
“I signed it.”
“Then why are you here?”
Emma hesitated.
“Thank you.”
Two simple words.
No performance.
No dramatic gratitude.
For some reason, I found them difficult to answer.
So I said, “The library shelves are dusty.”
“They’re not.”
“Then find something else.”
A smile appeared at the corner of her mouth.
“Yes, boss.”
After she left, Luke stepped through the adjoining doorway.
“How long were you standing there?”
“Long enough.”
“I should fire you.”
“You’ve been threatening that since 2009.”
“One day I mean it.”
“One day I’ll believe you.”
He turned to leave.
“Luke.”
He stopped.
“What do you know about Emma?”
His shoulders changed.
Most people wouldn’t have noticed.
I did.
“Why?”
“That wasn’t an answer.”
Luke faced me again.
“What exactly are you asking?”
“The employment agency did background screening.”
“Yes.”
“You approved the hire.”
“I approve a lot of hires.”
“Not night staff assigned to my private wing.”
Silence.
There it was.
Small.
Almost nothing.
But I had built an empire by recognizing almost nothing.
“You knew something,” I said.
Luke’s face became unreadable.
“I knew she needed work.”
“Luke.”
“She passed the screening.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
He walked toward the windows.
Outside, winter rain ran down the glass.
“Two years ago,” he said, “after you were shot, I reviewed everyone connected to that night.”
My hands tightened against the chair rims.
We rarely discussed the shooting.
Officially, nobody had ever been charged.
Unofficially, there were theories.
Old rivals.
A business dispute.
Someone from my past.
But after months without answers, I had stopped asking aloud.
“What does Emma have to do with that?”
May you like
Luke turned.
“Her mother’s name is Helen Carter.”
