Chapter 3
When I returned to the main hall, Camila was no longer standing defiantly beneath the chandelier.
She was at the breakfast table in the family kitchen, eating grilled cheese with alarming concentration.
Rosa rose immediately when I entered.
"Sir—"
"Please sit."
She remained halfway out of the chair.
"Rosa."
Something in my voice must have reassured her, because she sat.
Camila watched me over the edge of her sandwich.
I pulled out the chair across from them.
"Your missing wages are being transferred tonight."
Rosa pressed her fingertips to her mouth.
"All of them?"
"All of them."
Her eyes filled.
"And your landlord?"
"I'd like Harrison to call him with you and confirm the funds are on the way. If the transfer doesn't settle tonight, I will make sure your rent is covered until it does."
Rosa shook her head quickly.
"Sir, I don't want charity."
"Neither do I."
She looked confused.
"This isn't charity. It's correcting a failure that happened while you were working for me."
Camila stopped chewing.
"Does that mean you didn't lie?"
I looked at her.
Children have a way of making complicated things inconveniently simple.
"I didn't tell your mom she'd be paid today."
"So Mr. Harrison lied?"
"No."
Her forehead wrinkled.
"He told her something he believed was true."
"Then who lied?"
Rosa touched her daughter's arm.
"Camila."
"It's all right," I said.
I considered the question.
"I don't know yet."
Camila studied me with the seriousness of someone conducting an interview.
"Are you going to find out?"
"Yes."
"How?"
That almost made me smile.
"By reading a great deal of very boring paperwork."
She thought about that.
"Adults hide things in paperwork?"
"More often than you'd think."
"That's weird."
"It is."
For the first time, Rosa laughed.
It was small and tired, but it changed the room.
Camila returned to her sandwich.
Then she looked up again.
"My mom said you're very busy."
"I am."
"Too busy to know people weren't getting paid?"
Rosa closed her eyes.
"Camila."
This time I did smile, though there wasn't much humor in it.
"No. Apparently not too busy. Just busy with the wrong things."
The girl's expression softened.
Not forgiveness exactly.
But perhaps a temporary extension of credit.
I had negotiated billion-dollar acquisitions with less scrutiny.
Rosa's phone buzzed.
She looked at it cautiously.
A moment later, her breath caught.
"The payment."
She turned the screen toward me.
The transfer had arrived.
Her shoulders dropped.
Not dramatically.
Just enough for me to understand how long she'd been carrying them too high.
She closed her eyes.
"Thank you."
I shook my head.
"You earned it."
Camila leaned against her mother.
That image stayed with me long after Harrison arranged a car to take them home.
At the front door, Camila turned back.
"Mr. Whitmore?"
"Yes?"
"You should know the names of people who work in your house."
Rosa looked mortified.
I looked past them toward the staff moving quietly through the hallway.
"You're right."
May you like
Camila gave one satisfied nod.
Then she left.
