Chapter 8 - THE RIBBON
A week later, Luca asked whether I wanted to return to the mansion.
I wasn't sure.
The dining room still existed in my mind as the place where Vanessa had pulled the ribbon from my apron while forty people watched.
But I agreed to go.
Mrs. Carter met me in the entrance hall. She had heard what happened and wrapped me in a careful embrace.
“I am sorry, sweetheart.”
“Thank you.”
She took my hand.
“Your mother would have been proud of you.”
I looked down.
“I hope so.”
Luca was waiting in the dining room.
The long table had been cleared. There were no guests, no champagne, and no flowers.
On the table sat a small wooden sewing box.
“I found this among the things your mother left at the hospital,” he said. “The nurse said it was in her bag.”
I opened it.
Inside were spools of thread, a pair of small scissors, a thimble, and a length of black ribbon.
I touched it gently.
“She must have bought this for me.”
Luca nodded.
“There was a note.”
He handed me a folded piece of paper.
Grace,
If you ever need to remember that grief is love with nowhere to go, make something with your hands. It helped me when I missed people I couldn't reach.
I love you.
Mom.
I pressed the note against my lips.
Luca pulled out a chair.
“Would you like to sit?”
I did.
He sat opposite me.
“I asked the estate manager to make a change,” he said. “No employee will ever have to choose between their job and an emergency involving someone they love. Every request will be recorded and handled directly by management, not by a fiancée or a guest.”
I looked at him.
“Thank you.”
“And the household emergency fund will be audited. Every payment will go directly to the person or provider it is intended for.”
I nodded.
Then I took the black ribbon and tied it around the handle of my sewing box.
Not as a sign of humiliation.
May you like
As a promise.
I would remember my mother without apologizing for missing her.
