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50

Lena

I wake up to the smell of bacon and the sense that I’ve overstayed.

The bed is made—half made. My side is still warm. The rest is tucked, fluffed, reset around me like I’m the wrong variable in a room built to run without one.

There is no sign of Ellis. Just the scent of aftershave and the distant sound of dishes being moved like someone’s trying not to be heard.

I should leave.

I almost do.

But then someone knocks gently—barely a sound. And when I open the door, it’s not Ellis.

It’s a woman. Gray dress. Hair pinned back like she’s expecting an evaluation.

“Breakfast is ready,” she says, and smiles like I requested it. “Mr. Harrison is waiting in the dining room.”

“Thanks,” I say, like this is normal.

She turns. I follow.

The house is different in the morning. Busier. Sharper around the edges. The air smells like citrus and starch. Someone’s whispering down the hall—too faint to follow. We pass a woman with a vacuum. She smiles at me like I’m not a surprise.

In the dining room, the table is already full.

A white-haired woman sits at one end, dressed like she’s halfway between Sunday service and hosting a local PBS segment. Beside her is a younger woman—early forties maybe—eating yogurt with surgical focus. And across from them, Ellis, in a crisp button-down, halfway through his coffee like this is normal.

He stands when I enter. “Morning,” he says. “Sit.”

I hesitate for a beat too long. I’m still in the dress from last night. It’s not exactly breakfast attire. I don’t know where my shoes are.

The woman with the yogurt gestures to the empty seat. “Don’t be shy.”

I sit.

Ellis leans over, topping off my coffee like he’s been doing it for years. “Sue,” he says, gesturing, “this is Lena. Lena, this is Sue. And”—he nods to the third woman at the table—”Quinn.”

Quinn looks at me. Smiles.

There’s something off about it. Not unkind. Just…delayed.

“I don’t mean to be rude,” I say. “But I really have to get to the office.” I glance at my watch. “Ten o’clock meeting…”

Ellis frowns. “Breakfast is the most important meal of the day. You have time.”

Sue brightens, just a little too much. “You know, Quinn used to say the same thing. Always rushing out the door. Always trying to solve everything before breakfast.”

Quinn nods, deadpan. “I had staff meetings to run.”

“She was very important,” Sue says with a smile. “Back when she still had a badge.”

Ellis clears his throat. “Let’s eat, shall we?”

Quinn picks up her glass, holds it midair, and sets it down again without sipping.

I glance at Sue. She’s resumed her breakfast, eating like she’s timing each bite.

Quinn hasn’t blinked.

“Have some eggs,” Ellis says, already reaching for the serving spoon

“No thank you.” I watch as he scoops a spoonful onto his own plate. He looks over at me. “I’m good.”

Across the table, Sue dabs her mouth. “You’re the new secretary.”

“I am.”

Quinn tilts her head. “You’ll like it here,” she says. “If you don’t overthink things.”

I give her a small smile like that makes sense.

Ellis reaches for a knife, gestures in my direction. “I trust you slept well.”

I watch as he picks up a biscuit and studies it. “I did.”

That’s a lie. I barely remember falling asleep.

Quinn leans forward slightly. “Did you dream?”

Her voice is clear. Oddly formal. Like she’s repeating something she was told to say.

“Not that I remember.”

She nods, pleased with the answer.

I glance at Ellis, but he’s buttering with focus. Completely unconcerned.

Sue clears her throat. “Quinn’s doing very well lately.”

Ellis nods. “She’s making excellent progress.”

Quinn picks up her fork and stabs a strawberry. Doesn’t eat it.

Ellis leans forward and takes the fork. “You’re doing great, honey. Let’s not regress.”

I finally ask, “Do you live here?”

Quinn’s head tilts again.

“She’s recovering,” Sue answers for her. “It’s better for her to be somewhere consistent.”

Quinn reaches up and smooths her hand over her scalp. Then she looks at me and says, “He used to leave the windows open. I didn’t like that.”

“And now he doesn’t,” Sue says softly. “See? That’s marriage.”

Ellis doesn’t respond. He just refolds his napkin like that wasn’t confirmation.

Sue looks at me and offers a tight smile. “She remembers more than people expect.”

There’s a long pause where no one speaks.

Ellis raises his mug. “Coffee’s good this morning.”

I look away. Mine’s cold.

Across the table, Quinn smiles again. “Do you know what a pretty face looks like when it’s scared?”

The room stills.

I pretend to stir my coffee.

Sue doesn’t flinch. Ellis takes a sip.

I set my spoon down.

Push my chair back.

Stand.

“I just remembered—I hate eggs.”

And then I walk out.