Chapter 9 - THE WOMAN IN THE PHOTOGRAPH
Three weeks later, Margaret visited the cemetery where Rose Carter was
buried.
Emily stood beside her, holding a small bouquet of white lilies.
Margaret had brought the original necklace that belonged to Eleanor. She
removed it from a velvet box and held it for a moment.
“Your mother should have had this,” she said.
Emily shook her head.
“She had hers. I think she would want you to keep this one.”
Margaret looked at the blue gemstone.
“Then I will wear it with hers in mind.”
They placed the lilies beside Rose’s grave.
Margaret read the name carved into the stone.
Rose Carter.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t know where you were. I should have
found you.”
Emily stood quietly.
Then she took a small photograph from her coat. It showed Rose as a
young woman, wearing the matching necklace and smiling at the camera.
She placed it beside the flowers.
“Mom, I found the family you told me about,” she said softly. “I don’t
know what happens next. But I think you wanted me to know.”
Margaret touched Emily’s shoulder.
“I would like to know everything about her. The little things. What made
her laugh. What food she loved. What songs she sang.”
Emily smiled sadly.
“She hated mushrooms. She sang off-key. And she always kept extra
blankets in the car because she said someone might need them.”
Margaret laughed through her tears.
“That sounds like Eleanor.”
They stayed until the sun began to lower.
On the drive back, Margaret asked Emily whether she would consider
returning to the mansion—not as a maid, but as a member of the family,
if that was what she wanted.
Emily looked out the window.
“I need to finish school. I want to study nursing.”
“Then you should.”
“I don’t want people thinking I came back for money.”
“Let them think whatever they like. You do not owe anyone an
explanation.”
Emily turned toward her.
“Would you really help me?”
Margaret nodded.
“Your mother wanted you to have choices. I would like to help you have
them.”
Emily looked down at the photograph in her lap.
May you like
For the first time, the idea of a future did not feel like something she
had to build entirely alone.
