Page 53 of The Housekeeper

“So, you’re serious about writing, are you?” Elyse asked.

“I might be. My instructor says I’m a natural.”

“Well, if you ever want someone to read anything you’ve written, I’d be thrilled to offer my two cents,” Elyse volunteered. She reached across the table for Tracy’s empty espresso cup.

The color instantly drained from Tracy’s face.

“Did you see that?” she asked as soon as Elyse left the room.

“See what?”

“She’s wearing Mom’s watch.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about the fact she’s wearing Mom’s watch. The Cartier with the red alligator strap.”

I glanced toward the kitchen. “You’re sure?” I asked, in no mood for more of Tracy’s misperceptions.

“Of course I’m sure. I used to love that watch. When Mom stopped wearing it, I asked if I could have it, and she joked that she’d leave it to me in her will.”

“There must be dozens of watches like that.”

“How many housekeepers do you know who own Cartier watches?”

“It’s probably a knockoff.”

“You think?”

“Ask her.”

“Ask me what?” Elyse said, returning to the room.

“Your watch…” Tracy began.

Elyse glanced at her wrist. “It’s your mother’s,” she said without hesitation. “My watch stopped working and I had to take it in to be repaired, and your father insisted I wear this one in the meantime. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Of course not,” I answered for both of us.

“I’ll take it off,” Elyse said, absorbing the look on Tracy’s face, her fingers moving quickly to undo the strap.

“No,” Tracy said. “It’s fine. Honestly. Leave it.” She rose from her seat. “I should really get going. Thank you so much for dinner. It was delicious.” She moved toward the front door. “Bye, everyone,” she called toward the stairs. “Talk soon,” she added in my direction.

“I’m so sorry,” Elyse said when she was gone. “I think she was more upset than she let on.”

“She’ll be fine,” I assured her, pushing my chair away from the table. “We should probably get a move on as well. Kids!” I called out. “Time to go home.”

“Aw. Do we have to?” Sam whined as he and his sister reached the front hall, my father following a few steps behind.

“You’ll be back tomorrow afternoon for a swim,” I reminded them.

“I have an idea,” Elyse said. “Why don’t we make it a sleepover?We’ll swim, then make popcorn and watch movies. They can sleep in your old bedroom. How does that sound?”

“Yay!” Sam shouted, his cry echoed by his sister.

“What?” I said. “No! That’s way too much to ask.”

“You didn’t,” Elyse said. “It was my idea.”