Chapter 11 - A Different Kind of Pressure
Lily noticed first.
“You’re different when you come back from that house,” she said one evening while they were washing dishes.
Emma paused with a plate in her hands. “Different how?”
“Calmer. And also more… aware. Like you’re carrying something you haven’t decided whether to put down.”
Emma set the plate in the rack. “It’s complicated.”
“Is it the mother or the son?”
Emma did not answer immediately. Lily waited.
“Both,” Emma said finally. “But not in the way people would assume.”
Lily dried her hands. “Just don’t forget that you get to want things too. Not only survival.”
The words stayed with Emma longer than she expected.
The following week she attended an event where Vincent was present as a guest rather than an employer. She was coordinating the service flow, not serving tables. Their paths crossed near the edge of the room.
He stopped. “Miss Carter.”
“Mr. Moretti.”
The formality felt thin.
“How is your father?”
“Better. Home again.”
“Good.” A pause. “My mother asked whether you might stay for dinner one evening instead of only the afternoon hour. No obligation.”
Emma considered the invitation and everything it might mean to the people watching.
“I’d like that,” she said.
Vincent’s expression softened by a fraction. “I’ll have Thomas arrange it.”
May you like
He moved on. Emma returned to her checklist. Her hands were steady. Her pulse was not.
