Page 119 of The Maid's Secret

“Juan!” shouts a young sous-chef from the dance floor. “Speedy’s got a spin dilemma. He needs you in the booth.”

“Do you mind?” Juan asks me.

“Not at all,” I say. He kisses my cheek and heads to the DJ booth at the back of the tearoom as Baxley Brown walks up the stairs toward me.

“Molly,” he says. “I’m leaving shortly, but I wanted to give you this.”

He passes me a pale blue envelope.

“That’s very kind,” I say. “There’s a box by the exit that you can drop it in.”

“I’d rather this stayed in your hand,” he replies.

“Very well,” I say.

“I had a great night,” Baxley says, “but Steve and I have an early start tomorrow. We’ve got a meeting with a network looking to launch a new show featuring long-lost art.”

“Sounds like a new start.”

“I hope so,” he says. “For you, too. Congratulations, Molly. And please open that envelope sometime tonight. Don’t wait too long.”

“As you wish,” I say. “Thank you for coming.”

Baxley bows, and I stand and curtsy back.

Once he’s left the room, I open the envelope as requested. It’s a card to celebrate our wedding, and there’s a check inside, which I place on the table as I read the message in the card:

Dear Molly,

I’m sorry your family suffered because of mine. Shall we change the course of history? To make amends, I offer this, no strings attached, on your wedding day. Have a wonderful life.

—Baxley Brown

At first, I have no idea what to make of this message, but when I pick up the check, I realize with a shock that it’s for an astonishing sum—$500,000. For a second, I think I’m seeing things.

Juan bounds up the stairs.

“Molly, are you okay?” he asks as he takes in my slack-jawed face.

I show him the card and the check. “Juan, Mr.Brown gave us money—I think it’s the proceeds from the museum that took the egg. We can buy our apartment now.”

Juan studies the check. “No. Is this for real? Did he forget to place the decimal?”

“It’s for real,” I say. “That man’s ancestors were rotten, but I tell you, Baxley Brown is a good egg.”

I take the check and put it back in the card, placing it in Juan’s warm hands. “Give this to Mr.Snow. Tell him to put it in his safe,tout de suite.Tell him to treat it like the Fabergé.”

Juan nods, then runs down the stairs to find Mr.Snow.

I sit in my chair again as the music changes tempo. “Unforgettable” plays and couples take to the floor. For the first time all night, I’m alone at the head table, but no sooner do I have the thought than I see her, clear as day, take a seat in the chair beside me. This has never happened before. Up until now, she’s only ever been a voice in my head, an echo from the past. But now, she is right here. And she’s sitting beside me holding her favorite teacup, the one with the cottage scene on it. Her hair is silver-white, her crow’s-feet crinkle as she smiles at me, her face a pure and golden glow. My gran.

She takes a sip of tea, then looks down at the ring on my finger.Once upon a time,she says,I dreamt of this day.

“So did I, Gran. So did I.”

I never knew my dream would come true.

“Nor did I,” I reply.

My dear Molly, life is a fairy tale.

Wonders never cease.

And love—love is the greatest gift of all.