Chapter 2 - One Good Thing
Nathaniel did not sleep.
At 6:15 the next morning, he opened the cameras again.
He told himself he needed confirmation.
By noon, he hated himself for needing it.
Camille entered the staff kitchen while Clara was eating from a plastic container.
“What is that smell?”
Clara looked up.
“Baked ziti. My mom made too much last night.”
Camille wrinkled her nose.
“It smells like a gas-station diner.”
Clara gave a nervous smile.
“It tastes better than it smells.”
Camille picked up the container.
“Miss Royce—”
She dropped it into the trash.
Clara stood so fast the chair scraped backward.
For the first time, anger appeared in her face.
“That was my lunch.”
Camille looked almost amused.
“Now it’s the trash’s lunch.”
Something changed in Clara’s expression.
Not rage.
Not humiliation.
Pity.
That seemed to bother Camille more.
Clara said quietly, “Kindness doesn’t cost much, ma’am.”
Camille’s eyes narrowed.
“Are you lecturing me?”
“No.”
“Then what are you doing?”
Clara looked at the garbage can.
“Reminding myself.”
Nathaniel sat motionless.
That afternoon, the weather turned.
Heavy October rain hammered the Connecticut coast.
At 4:08, Camille ordered Clara to stand at the front gate and direct arriving florists toward the service entrance.
Clara looked through the windows.
“May I take an umbrella?”
Camille glanced at her phone.
“The guests will be carrying umbrellas.”
“I meant for me.”
Camille smiled.
“Umbrellas are for guests.”
Nathaniel nearly called her right then.
Nearly.
Then Elias appeared on camera and handed Clara his black umbrella.
“I don’t care what she says.”
Clara shook her head.
“You’ll get in trouble.”
Elias smiled.
“At my age, trouble is one of the few hobbies I have left.”
Two hours later, Clara returned soaked from the knees down despite the umbrella.
Elias brought her a towel.
“Why do you stay?”
Clara looked toward the hallway before answering.
“Because the salary covers my tuition.”
“You’re still doing night classes?”
“Two more years.”
“For teaching?”
“Third grade.”
Elias frowned.
“And that’s worth this?”
Clara looked down.
“My mom hasn’t been able to work full-time since her surgery. The insurance covered most of it, not all. This job pays enough for school and the medical balance.”
Elias sat across from her.
“I can tell Mr. Vaughn.”
“No.”
“Clara.”
“He loves her.”
Nathaniel felt the words like a physical blow.
Clara continued.
“It isn’t my place to destroy that.”
“She’s doing a fine job destroying things herself.”
“Maybe she’ll be happier after the wedding.”
Elias stared at her.
“And happy people are automatically kind?”
Clara smiled faintly.
“I’d like to believe some are.”
That evening, Nathaniel saw something else.
Clara was sitting on the servants’ staircase after everyone had gone upstairs.
She pulled a small green notebook from her apron.
She wrote for less than a minute.
Closed it.
Kissed the front cover.
Then returned to work.
“What are you writing?” Nathaniel whispered to an empty hotel suite.
He found out the following night.
Not because he read the notebook.
Because Clara called her mother on speakerphone while driving home, and the garage camera picked up the conversation.
“There's my girl,” a woman’s voice said. “How was the mansion?”
“Same as always.”
“Fancy?”
“Beautiful.”
Clara paused.
“And cold.”
Her mother laughed softly.
“That woman again?”
“She threw away my lunch.”
“She did what?”
“Mom.”
“You were hungry.”
“I survived.”
“Quit.”
“I can’t.”
“We’ll manage.”
“Mom, I’m almost through school.”
“And until then, you let her walk all over you?”
Clara started the car but didn’t move.
“I let her be unhappy near me. That’s different.”
Her mother went quiet.
Then she said, “Your father used to say ridiculous noble things like that.”
Clara smiled.
“I learned from the best.”
“You still writing one good thing every day?”
“Every day.”
“Since Dad?”
“Since Dad.”
“What was today’s?”
Clara looked toward the house.
“Mr. Porter shared his umbrella.”
There was silence.
“So she made you stand outside in the rain.”
“Mom, don’t make that face.”
“I only have one face.”
“It’s a beautiful face.”
“That’s better.”
Clara laughed.
Nathaniel watched her drive away.
For the first time in three days, the billionaire who controlled fourteen companies felt ashamed inside his own home.
He had spent years studying contracts, balance sheets, risk.
Yet he had nearly married a woman without learning how she behaved when no one important was watching.
The next evening gave him his answer.
Camille was drinking champagne with her wedding planner in the library.
Nathaniel had called earlier and told her he would remain in Chicago until Friday.
She seemed delighted.
Once the planner left, Camille called someone.
“Everything’s perfect,” she said.
A woman laughed through the speaker.
“And Nathaniel?”
“Clueless.”
Camille admired her ring.
“He thinks I’m an angel.”
The other woman laughed again.
Camille continued.
“After the wedding, Clara goes first. Then Elias.”
Nathaniel stopped moving.
“Elias is practically furniture,” the woman said.
“Exactly. And this whole place feels like his dead mother designed it yesterday. Once I’m Mrs. Vaughn, I’m renovating everything.”
“What about that old brooch Nathaniel keeps in the study?”
Camille turned toward the hallway.
His mother’s brooch.
A small platinum pin shaped like a magnolia, set with three tiny diamonds.
Nathaniel’s father had given it to his mother on their twentieth anniversary.
His mother had worn it the day she hired Elias.
She had worn it on Christmas mornings.
She had worn it in hospice.
Nathaniel had kept it in a glass box after she died.
Camille smiled.
“That gloomy thing?”
“Worth a fortune.”
“I know.”
She lowered her voice.
“I already have an idea.”
Nathaniel stared at the screen.
Then he picked up his phone.
“Elias.”
“Yes, sir?”
“I’m coming home tomorrow.”
“Friday?”
“No.”
May you like
Nathaniel closed the laptop.
“Tomorrow.”
