Chương 6
“It’s Victor.”
“Probably.”
“Likely?”
Leah gave her a brief, humorless smile. “Likely.”
Mara went to work that afternoon.
Colin had told her not to come, which made going feel necessary. She arranged for Diane to watch Ellie, endured twenty minutes of criticism about the closet, and left before either of them said something permanent.
Aurelia opened at five. By four fifteen, the sidewalk outside was crowded with contractors carrying furniture, boxes, electrical equipment, and rolled carpets. The private lounge on the second floor had already been stripped of its velvet chairs. Through the open doorway, Mara saw two workers installing childproof outlets while a woman with a clipboard measured the windows.
A printed sign outside the room read TEMPORARILY CLOSED.
No mention of a nursery.
Dominic stood in the hallway with his jacket removed and his sleeves still decorated with gold braid. He listened while the woman explained that commercial childcare required inspections, staffing plans, sanitation protocols, and insurance changes. The overnight command had met daylight.
“We can prepare the room,” the woman said, “but no child should be placed here until approvals are complete.”
“How long?”
“Not tonight.”
Dominic’s mouth flattened.
“Mr. Moretti,” she said, “you cannot intimidate a fire inspection into happening faster.”
“I did not suggest—”
“You looked at the wall as if considering whether to have the city replaced.”
One of the contractors covered a smile.
Dominic noticed Mara.
The hallway quieted.
She approached him in the pale sage uniform because she had no other work clothes worth wearing to a confrontation. “The nursery isn’t open.”
“No.”
“You ordered it open tonight.”
“I was informed that laws remain in effect even when inconvenient.”
“Tragic.”
A corner of his mouth moved, then disappeared. “Ms. Sullivan.”
“Mara.”
“Mara. We should talk.”
“Here.”
People within hearing distance found reasons to examine tools.
Dominic looked toward the open lounge. “Not here.”
“You said my job was safe.”
“It is.”
“Then I’m working.”
“Your shift has been covered.”
“I didn’t ask for that.”
“You have not slept.”
“You don’t know that.”
“You broke a solid door with banquet equipment.”
“That could be my normal personality.”
This time he almost smiled. The expression made him look younger and, for that reason, less safe.
“Your mother-in-law has Ellie?” he asked.
Mara stiffened. “How do you know?”
“Leah said childcare was arranged.”
“She told you who?”
“No.”
“Then how do you know?”
Dominic’s eyes moved briefly toward Colin, who stood at the far end of the hallway.
Mara understood. “You had someone follow me.”
“After Victor’s messages, I had someone confirm you arrived safely.”
“You put surveillance on me.”
“I put protection near you.”
“Those are the same thing when the person being protected didn’t agree.”
His expression closed.
“Call them off,” she said.
“That would be unwise.”
“I don’t care.”
“You have a child.”
“So now every choice I make can be dismissed because I’m a mother?”
“No. Every risk you take has two names attached to it.”
The words struck too close to thoughts she had not admitted. She lowered her voice. “Call them off.”
Dominic glanced at the contractors. “Give us the hall.”
They left with unnecessary speed. Colin remained until Dominic looked at him.
When they were alone, Dominic took the yellow rattle from his pocket.
Mara stared at it. “How did that get in my bag?”
“Rosa put it there. She thought it belonged to Ellie.”
“It doesn’t.”
“No.”
He held it by the faded handle. “It belonged to my daughter.”
Mara said nothing.
“Her name was Anna.”
The family photographs in the office returned to her: frames on the desk, a portrait near the bookshelves, faces she had not studied while terrified. She remembered one photograph of Dominic seated beside a dark-haired woman holding a baby in a white dress.
“How old is she now?” Mara asked.
“She would be twelve.”
The hallway seemed to lose sound.
Dominic looked at the rattle rather than at Mara. “She died before she was eight months old. A heart defect. We knew something was wrong, but not how wrong.”
“I’m sorry.”
“So am I.”
The answer carried no invitation to comfort him.
He turned the rattle once in his fingers. “Last night, Ellie reached for it from the desk. I gave it to her. When Rosa packed the diaper bag, she assumed it was yours.”
“Why keep it in your office?”
“I don’t know.”
She believed that too.
After a moment, he put the rattle in her hand. “Ellie liked it.”
“I can’t take this.”
“It is not a gift to you.”
“That doesn’t make it better.”
“No,” he said. “It probably makes it stranger.”
Mara examined the worn initials. “A.M.”
“Anna Moretti.”
She closed her fingers around the handle. “I’ll return it.”
“When she gets tired of it.”
“Babies don’t get tired of anything. They just lose it under furniture.”
“Then return it when you find it.”
For one quiet second, neither of them stood where the rumors placed them. He was not a man whose name caused conversations to stop. She was not the negligent mother in Victor’s photographs. They were two adults in an unfinished room that smelled of plaster dust, discussing a toy neither knew what to do with.
Then Dominic’s phone vibrated.
He read the screen, and the softness vanished.
“What?” Mara asked.
“A local news account received the photographs.”
Her stomach dropped.
“Have they posted them?”
“Not yet. They requested comment.”
“From who?”
“From the restaurant.”
“Not from me.”
“No.”
“Of course not.”
Dominic tapped the phone once and raised it to his ear. “Leah. Hold the statement. No threats, no takedown demand, no contact with the publisher until we know what they have.”
He listened.
“I understand what exposure means,” he said. “Do not make her invisible while discussing her child.”
Mara watched him.
“No. I am not being emotional.” A pause. “That was not a request for your opinion.”
He ended the call.
“You were being emotional,” Mara said.
May you like
“Yes.”
The admission disarmed her again.
