Castle in the Clouds Ch. 11

Wednesday, being the prep day for the feast, was supposed to be an uneventful day. Funny how that doesn't seem to work out.

The first hint of trouble at ten in the morning was the ping on my phone, followed by buzzing on my smart watch. After the dinner party, I had reset the smart watch to only alert for messages marked as urgent. Glancing at my wrist, I read the text from Francine:

Come to the guest rooms in the east wing. The scarlet room. Quickly.

I immediately abandoned my tasks, food lists and staff assignments scattered on my workspace. I had to resist the urge to sprint through the hallways, power-walking at a speed I wasn't quite sure I was capable of in heels. I made it to the east wing in half my usual walking time, breathing hard but maintaining poise.

Francine met me in the hallway, and I spied the Bowsby twins behind her standing guard at a specific door. Her porcelain skin was flush and she was fidgeting with agitation. "Thank god," she whispered, reaching for my hands. "It's Alice Mbaye. She's here and she's drunk."

I clasped her hands in mine, feeling them trembling. "What happened? When did she arrive?"

"Not fifteen minutes ago," she answered, eyes darting behind me to reassure herself we weren't being observed. "Her driver didn't even try to come in the gate. A gardener saw the car stop long enough for her to get out, then she screamed something at the driver, and he peeled away. She couldn't even walk straight. Gardener summoned security, and the twins answered. They brought her up here." She squeezed my hands meaningfully. "They thought you should see her first, before anyone else."

I craned my head around Francine's fiery curls to look at the twins questioningly. Peter nodded to me solemnly, and Paul tapped his fingertips to his forehead in a casual salute. "We knew you'd know what to do," Paul said simply.

"We appreciate what you're doing for Miss Elaine," his brother added.

"I didn't tell them, I swear," Francine whispered frantically. "They figured it out on their own."

I shook my head with a small smile. "You're absolutely certain you didn't drop any details when you were, how'd you say, 'shooting the shit?'"

"She didn't, ma'am," Peter insisted. "We only started suspecting when we realized Francine was always losing focus on our conversations when she was listening in on other people talking about Miss Elaine or the management staff."

"She thought we couldn't notice, but she's terrible at poker when she's trying to multitask," Paul said with a chuckle.

"We didn't ask her until Miss Mbaye got here," Peter continued. "She's rambling about Miss Elaine again. And we thought it might be good for you to talk to her."

I extracted my hands so I could squeeze Francine's shoulders, then hug her and rub her back. "You did the right thing," I said, to all three. "Thank you for messaging me. Please don't be frightened, gal, it's okay."

"I'm not frightened," Francine said, but she returned my hug tightly. "I'm angry. What piece of shit leaves a drunk woman on another family's doorstep without even a word? She's in terrible shape. Anything could have happened to her."

"I'm sure when Mr. Khatri hears what happened, he will have a word with her mother. Now, straighten yourself out." I backed up so I could tidy her uniform. "Go back to your tasks. The twins will stay here with me. I'll have them watch the door until things are calm, then I'll go explain to Mr. Khatri and Mr. Kumiega." I turned my attention to the twins as she rushed away. "Our story is, the gardener summoned you, and you were about to call Mr. Kumiega when you met me as I was coming outside for a walk to clear my head. I saw what state she was in and insisted you bring her to a bed. I then reached out to Mr. Kumiega, Mrs. Skylark, and Mr. Khatri myself as we started bringing her here. No further time will have passed. Agreed?"

They both nodded, and resumed their stoic posts at the door.

Taking a deep breath to steady my nerves, I straightened my back, lifted my chin, and reached for the doorknob.

Alice Mbaye's preferred guest suite was not entirely scarlet, but that was the dominant hue. The furniture was made from stained redheart wood, the wainscoting was cardinal paneling, and the curtains' woven geometric designs featured ruby, black, and gold. I found Alice draped over a black leather cabriole sofa, face buried in wine-red pillows.

"Miss Mbaye?" I approached cautiously.

She stirred and slowly pulled herself up by the back of the sofa until she was seated. I was grateful to see one of my loyal staff had pressed a water bottle to her hand, and it seemed she had sipped from it. It dropped to the floor with an unceremonious thunk as she let go to rub her face with her hands. Her cream turtleneck was half-tucked into crusty jeans. Her short hair had been styled into stunning palm colls some days ago, but was due for moisturizer or even a wash. When she finally lifted her gorgeous face so her eyes could meet mine, I was startled at how raw they were, red and bleary with shed tears.

I sat in the neighboring leather wingback chair. "Miss Mbaye, it's a three-hour flight from your home to ours, and a thirty-minute drive from the airpark. And it must take at least two hours to prepare a private flight."

"Did you come here to recite facts at me?" Her voice was less slurred than I was expecting, considering Francine's description. But there was no denying the smell of alcohol on her breath.

"I want to know what happened at approximately four in the morning to inspire you to fly out here the day before Thanksgiving."

She laughed, harsh and short, then groaned and held her head. She turned away from me and curled up against the back of the sofa. "That's a bit of an impertinent question from an upstart replacement staff member," she retorted. "Henri never questions me when I come."

"Maybe Henri should start." I observed her shoulders tense at my curt answer, but I pressed on. "Because a young lady doesn't leave home at four in the morning and fly straight to her oldest friend without calling ahead unless something is wrong."

"Oh shut up," she huffed, reaching for the water bottle. "Like any of this has any kind of impact on you. Just do your job."

"And what is my job in this instance, ma'am?"

She groaned impatiently. "Go get Annie. Or Henri, or Lawrence, or anybody who actually knows me."

"And you want them to see you like this?"

She paused, water bottle hovering at her lips.

"You caused quite a stir around here," I continued. "The entire estate has been on edge since your proclamation at the party. And now you show up unannounced, deposited like the morning mail? It's worrying. Either we can get Mr. Khatri right now, and he'll see you drunk and abandoned by your staff, and will start demanding answers immediately, with staff hovering around concerned about safety; or you can talk to me about what you need, take time to clear your head, and I can prepare a private lunch for you and Mr. Khatri to talk."

Alice's glare toward me seemed to soften. Closing her eyes, she took a long swallow of water, then sighed. "A private luncheon does sound more appropriate," she relented.

I nodded. "We can set it up here if you would like."

"No, I don't mind going to a dining room." Her eyes gazed out the window. "I'm not ashamed to show my face."

"I think that much is clear." I leaned forward, my hands open in a gesture of friendship. "You came here when you needed safety, or security, or comfort. Whatever happened, you knew you'd be welcome here. And you weren't wrong, Miss Mbaye. You are always welcome here. And whatever is troubling you, troubles the heart of the Khatri family."

She continued to stare out the window for a few moments, taking another sip of water. Then she turned to face me. She had never looked more haggard; tears brimmed in the corners of her eyes. "But that's the problem," she choked out. "That's the damn problem. I only ever seem to add to the troubles, don't I? Not like Elaine, not like you." The bitterness returned to her eyes as she laughed again. "Another blonde swooping in to soothe him. Pretty, capable, well-spoken. You could have aced your interview with your smile alone."

"I have a degree in hospitality from--"

She waved a hand to cut me off. "No, no, I don't mean to insult you. I know you're more than qualified. I saw how you handled the dinner party." She breathed a small chuckle. "It's not like Lawrence would have let you onto the property if you couldn't handle it."

"Of course not," I agreed. "He would have left the job interview, burned my resume, and resumed work without blinking."

She giggled. "He's always been icy. Nothing fazes him. And sweet, sweet Henri always knows exactly what you need to hear. And Annie..." She looked at me quizzically. "Do you know we actually used to date?"

"Henri told me a little. I know you were dating, and I know Mrs. Khatri was your childhood friend. I know you used to be here as often as you could."

A tear escaped her composure, and she wiped it away impatiently. "I've always felt more at home here," she told me. "Home was so cold. Mom and Dad were always sick with something, or working somewhere, or vacationing. There wasn't time for me. But Annie's mom and dad always made time for me." Her lips and voice trembled. "Always. All I had to do was ask. They even let me decorate my own guest room. I had skater and goth posters on every wall and no one told me to stop being ridiculous." She looked around. "It's been updated since then," she explained with a slightly embarrassed tone.

"Who was your favorite, Tony Hawk or Rodney Mullen?"

"CB Burnside, actually." A nostalgic smile lit her face. "First woman on the cover of Thrasher magazine."

"Rock on," I enthused. "Skating can be such a boy's club, we love to see a girl catch air."

Alice rolled her eyes at me. "Ugh, see, yet again Andrew's sunshine sidekick knows exactly what to say." She grew quiet, and I saw her fingertips tense on the bottle. "Elaine was always like that, too," she continued after a moment. "I was so happy for Annie when they got together. I really was. Who wouldn't be? The two people I loved most in the whole world, in love. She was sweet, compassionate, and encouraging. He's dedicated, romantic, and hardworking. They deserved each other."

The air was unbearably heavy. The water bottle crinkled under her fingers. Her shoulders began to quake.

Slowly, I rose from my chair only to sit again on the sofa alongside her. "Love is no simple thing," I murmured. "It grows and changes. Sometimes it shifts between romantic and platonic... and back again. And sometimes it feels like there isn't room for everyone."

There was no hiding the tears spilling onto Alice's cheeks this time. "I thought we had run our course," she gasped, fighting against her sobs. "Annie and I. We weren't right for each other, then. I was immature, he was stressed, we were always going in different directions. When it was over and we were just friends again I was relieved. I could love him without having to be the perfect person for him. And she was perfect for him. And then I could have my best friends, and I could focus on me when I needed to..."

She dropped the water bottle and held her face in her hands as I wrapped an arm around her shuddering shoulders. She made no move to stop me. "But then it was the two of them, and suddenly they were in a whole other world without me, and god damn it I missed them. Both of them. And watching him grow into a family man, and how he treated her, and how mature and responsible he was becoming... Fuck, I fell straight back into love with him, harder than ever, and it fucking hurt!"

"You were watching your first love grow into his best self, with your best friend," I reflected. "Of course it hurt. You wanted to be a part of that."

"And I have no one to blame but myself." Alice's heartbroken voice was muffled through tear-soaked fingers. "I got jealous and petty and I... I said things to Annie I had no right to say. I said he held back in our relationship, he cared for her more than he ever cared for me... I said terrible things. Such terrible, terrible things."

"I'm sure Mr. Khatri would be understanding," I offered as she took several deep breaths. "He clearly cares about you even now."

"Of course he would be," she spat back. "They both were. And my pride couldn't handle it. I had made a childish fool of myself and they were able to sit on their thrones of love and deign me worthy of 'patience' and 'understanding.' But it was easy for them, wasn't it? They had each other, their parents, eventually their children. They could keep living their happy lives forever, waiting for me to grow up enough to join them."

Her sobs began to slow, the way they do when you've spent all the tears you have, even if you don't feel any better. I reached for a handkerchief from my uniform pocket and gently pressed it against her fingers. She took it and sat straighter, wiping her face clear. I kept my arm around her shoulders as she did. "It's good to have a place you know you're welcome to come to," I said softly. "But it would be better to know there are people willing to be at your side as you do the hard work of growing and changing as a person. Forgive my impertinence, but it sounds as though you were left behind. I'm so sorry."

Alice sighed, deeply and with her whole chest. Finally she shifted, shrugging off my arm but turning to face me. "Don't be," she said, and her voice sounded lighter than before. "It was hard, but it was necessary. Eventually I pulled my head out of my own ass. I came back, you know--did you know?"

I nodded. "Henri told me. You were visiting Mrs. Khatri for a few days."

"And I was welcomed with open arms, of course. It was uncomfortable at first. But Elaine kept pushing for me to open up. We spent all day talking, about everything. And by evening, I was ready to do what I had to do to fix things." Alice shook her head incredulously. "I had one last day with my best friend."

"I can't imagine what it was like to wake up the next morning and she was gone."

A shadow clouded Alice's normally sharp eyes. "And then it was too late. Too late to change anything, too late to take anything back. And I lost them both all over again."

I gave her a moment as her eyes returned to the window, her thoughts two years in the past. Eventually I pressed, "And now you're here."

"Yes." Alice stood and walked over to a hanging mirror, where she stared herself in the eyes. "Yes, I'm back. I may still be hot-headed and immature. But I can't bear it anymore. I've given Annie his time to grieve. I've given the estate their time to think what they think of me." She turned back to me, and the defiant confidence she had held at the dinner party was back: shoulders square, chin high, eyes bright. "I'm here to take Annie back, by any cost."

"Well," I said, standing to face her properly. "That's certainly one motivation for ordering a private flight at four in the morning. But may I ask why it sounds like a declaration of war?"

She smiled wryly. "Because it is. Because you remind me of Elaine. And I need you to know immediately if you have any illusions of getting between me and Annie, you best relieve yourself of them now."

"Or what?" I approached her, one finger thoughtfully resting on my chin. "Or you'll get me out of the way?"

Her smile immediately disappeared, and her eyes widened. "That's not-- I'm not-- That's not what I'm trying to say," she protested.

"Relax, Miss Mbaye." I stood a few inches from her, eyes steady with hers. "You've been honest with me, so allow me to be honest with you. And the first thing I need you to understand is I believe you are brave, passionate, and fierce. You might be hot-headed, but it's because you feel things strongly, and you aren't afraid to do what you believe needs to be done. And frankly, I think Andrew needs a little more bravado in his life."

Her brows furrowed and her mouth opened, but I interrupted her. "The second thing I need you to understand is I have a particular arrangement with Andrew, and I am not interested in competing with you for his affections." I smiled at her look of amazement. "I'm not. I'm not going to stoop to fighting over lovers. Because I have room in my life for more than one person, and because I'm not going to hold someone hostage to me if they don't." I put my hand on the wall behind her and tilted my head. "And I don't think anyone deserves to be left behind. Especially not someone who loves so passionately."

Alice had room to move if she wanted to. Hell, she could slap me if she wanted to, and I wouldn't have blamed her. But instead her eyes were glued to mine, and her fingers curled against the wall. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying," I said, a little more boldly, "maybe I want to be between you and Andrew. Between your lips and his. Between your delightful curves and his strong shoulders. Why cut you out of the fun? Besides," I said, placing a finger under her chin. "I think you want someone who takes care of you. I think you're tired of running after what you want, and it's your turn to be pursued."

She didn't jerk her head away, but she did harden her gaze. "Who says I want it from you?"

"You don't," I answered. "Not yet. But you want what I can offer. You want someone who looks at you at your worst and still sees you as beautiful. Andrew might be that person for you, or I could be, or both. But there's one little thing we need to clear up, first, before you can choose."

"And that is?"

I stroked my thumb along her lip, then turned to the door. "We need to be sure you didn't murder Elaine," I said over my shoulder as I strode away.

"You couldn't possibly--!"

"Do me a favor. Stay for Thanksgiving dinner." I paused at the door. "I'll tell Andrew you're taking a bath, then coming for lunch in the blue parlor. I'll ask Henri to fetch you some spare clothes. And Miss Mbaye." I turned to make eye contact with her one last time. "I'm going to learn the truth of all this. So if you plan on getting rid of me, move fast."

She was still standing where I left her at the wall, one hand curled into a fist resting over her heart. She looked me up and down. "Maybe you're not as much like Elaine as I thought," she muttered.

"Is that a good thing?"

She walked back over to where the water bottle had fallen to the floor. Picking it up, she took one last swallow, draining it. She walked over to me and pressed the bottle into my hands. "I suppose I'm going to have to find out," she replied.

-

Trying to track down Lawrence Kumiega was a frightening task. Despite his predictable and regular work schedule, the man was like a phantom when you were trying to locate him. He was simultaneously everywhere and nowhere. "I saw him leaving the security camera rooms," one staff member would tell me. "Just missed him, he's headed to kitchens," the next would say as soon as you got there. "Scared the shit out of me, I was minding my business in the laundry room and suddenly there the creepy bastard was!" one former staff member had commented during his termination hearing. Lawrence had caught him smoking while on the clock.

Despite initially hoping I could catch him by surprise, I relented and texted him requesting to touch base before the next day. He agreed and instructed me to meet him at the security conference room, where he held staff trainings and debriefings.

Lawrence was looking through holiday staffing schedules for security when I arrived. He neatly filed the papers away and stood to greet me when I entered. "Prepared for tomorrow?" he asked simply.

"I couldn't possibly be more prepared," I answered, taking a seat across from him. Knowing he preferred direct communication over polite small talk, I added, "I'm asking to speak with you about an entirely different matter."

"I'm listening." He returned to his seat.

"Marisol's medication," I started. "I've of course been reading information about PKD, but I wanted to hear more from you directly. You've always administered her shot, correct? When did you first learn she would need it?"

Lawrence's usually cold face, as usual, seemed to gain a touch of softness whenever the children's health was mentioned. "We knew early on. Both children were screened for health concerns starting from birth, because Mrs. Khatri wanted to be proactive. She always took health matters quite seriously. It was part of why the late Mr. Khatri paid for a few of us to obtain nursing certifications."

"A few of you?" I asked, surprised. "I've only ever seen you do anything of the kind."

"Most of those staff have actually left in the past several years. But initially yes, there were a few of us, so no matter who was on schedule there was someone in the house who could monitor Mrs. Khatri's condition and help administer her medication."

"Did you used to give Mrs. Khatri her injections, the way you do for Marisol?"

"The few of us would, at first. But Mrs. Khatri wanted to be more independent, and eventually learned how to self-administer."

"That's awfully brave of her."

"Yes, I always thought so."

"So because of Mrs. Khatri's knowledge about her health, you screened Marisol for PKD early, and her doctor was able to establish a regular medication schedule," I summarized. "And since the other staff have left, you've been the only one on staff with the certification to do her shots." I gazed at my tapping fingers with wonderment. "It must be stressful sometimes. The other night when you were warning Marisol about air bubbles, it gave me a chill. I don't know if I could handle the pressure."

"It takes practice," Lawrence said simply. "As long as the needle is full and you have taken the precaution to remove the air, the risk is low."

"If there was air in a needle?"

"Small bubbles are actually manageable. But if the needle is improperly prepared or empty, it can be quite serious, especially for those already ill." Lawrence spoke as though he was reciting from a textbook. "Air in the blood vessels can travel to the brain, causing strokes."

"Or to the heart, causing heart attacks?"

"Correct."

"Wow." I reclined in my chair pensively. "The things one has to learn to serve a family so closely. No wonder Mr. Khatri trusts you implicitly."

"Studying to be the best employee one can be is merely a question of time, energy, and attention," he answered calmly.

I leaned forward, elbows on the table, chin on my knuckles. "You are the most informed person in the Khatri estate. I daresay there are things about this home you know even Mr. Khatri doesn't. And the estate functions as it does thanks to your specific combination of calculated control and adaptability."

I paused to give him an opportunity to respond. He didn't take it, his polite face looking as neutral as ever.

"For example," I said lightly, "I assume you know how Mr. Khatri and I met?"

He quirked one eyebrow. "Naturally."

"The night we met, Mr. Khatri told me it was one of his oldest, dearest friends who had given him the contact information for my old agency. Was that you?"

His eyebrow relaxed again. "It was."

"I thought it might have been. I've wanted to ask for a long time now... why?"

"Why what?"

"Why would an esteemed estate manager for such a prestigious household encourage his employer to meet an escort?"

Lawrence's face was damned difficult to read. He didn't so much as twitch when he answered. "It was unconventional, but after his years of grief I thought it was best for him to regain a form of intimacy."

"That might be the most clinical way you possibly could have worded it," I answered with a laugh. "'Unconventional' is an understatement, certainly."

"Miss Edwards," Lawrence cut in. "Is there a purpose to this conversation?"

"Forgive me, I was amused by your phrasing." I took on a more serious tone to match his. "But yes, I have a purpose. My purpose as a housekeeper, which I take as seriously as your purpose as estate manager. And if we are going to continue working together, I want to better understand your thought process." I tilted my head in curiosity. "We are going to keep working together, are we not?"

"Why wouldn't we?"

"Don't get me wrong, I'm not doubting your abilities or energy," I reassured him. "But the way Mr. Khatri talks about you, it's my understanding you've worked for his father since his infancy. That means you've been with the household a little longer than Henri herself. And with her preparing for retirement this coming year, I wasn't sure if you were planning on following in her steps."

He gave a curt nod of understanding. "Ah. Don't fret, I have no intentions of retiring."

I raised both eyebrows. "Ever?"

"It's not so unusual," he informed me. "I didn't start as the estate manager, I'll have you know. I was a manservant first. When I reach my elder years, I'll transition to a less strenuous position."

I fought to keep my face as neutral as his. What less strenuous position? Manservant positions were physically demanding. Gardening would be out of the question. Perhaps he would sit and watch the security cameras all day?

I struggled to stay focused. "Your dedication to the family is second to none," I said admiringly. "In fact, in my years of hospitality experience, I've never met anyone so faithful. I mean, you've truly had a hand in everything. The staffing, the household management, the family friend connections, the Khatri real estate business, the contracts and negotiations, the continued building of the mountain estate, the children's education, the children's recreation schedule, Andrew's sexual relationships... Is there anything you haven't had a hand in crafting?"

You would think a man would at least blink after such a suggestive list. Lawrence's expression remained unchanged. "My purpose is to make it so Mr. Khatri doesn't need to worry about anything but his business."

"There's the thing, though. It seems like he doesn't have to think about anything, including what is his business. Any little sign of trouble, and good old Lawrence has a business project--or a prostitute--he can focus his attention on instead." I stared him down. "It makes me wonder what else you've been so willing to take off of Andrew's hands."

Silence settled heavily between us, and I matched Lawrence's icy unmoving stare with my own.

Eventually Lawrence stood. "I believe this conversation is no longer productive," he announced, reaching for his staffing files.

"Perhaps not right now. But," I said, standing with him, "I do appreciate your time. Your importance to the family cannot be understated. You'll be at dinner tomorrow?"

"You arranged the table. You know I'm coming."

"It's considered polite to extend a warm invitation."

Lawrence left the room without a farewell, which was either rude of him, or understandable after my intrusive implications.

-

I asked Henri to meet me in her office with the excuse of finishing arrangements for the next day. Honestly, I couldn't see what arrangements she thought we could possibly have left to discuss. Each menu, staff arrangement, decoration, and even music selection had been reviewed what felt like a thousand times. Still, she agreed to meet with no hesitation, and it wasn't long before we were sitting alongside her busy desk.

My heart was pounding, but I decided to cut to the chase. " Henri, I regret to inform you that you're going to be angry with me."

She looked taken aback. "Whatever for? You've been remarkable."

I leaned forward and kept my eyes even. "I know about Noah Skylark."

She froze, but the color quickly rose in her cheeks. She turned away from me and tapped her fingertips against her chair for a few moments. "What did you find?" she said, slowly.

"Only two things. A record of a check, and a photograph. Forgive me for searching through your desk. I never went anywhere but this office. Once I found the photo, it was enough."

She shook her head and searched my face with saddened eyes. "Claire, this is incredibly disappointing."

The part of me that still recoils at the thought of upsetting sweet grannies started to go into overdrive, but I stuffed it down. "My first responsibility as your successor is the family's well-being. I intend to do this by any means necessary. Including finally answering the question, 'Who killed Mrs. Khatri?'"

"I don't understand what my son could possibly have to do with Elaine's death," Henri remarked, appalled, one hand flying to clutch at her chest.

"It could be everything, or it could be nothing," I pressed on, not giving any indication of what information she had just given away. "But I have no intention of allowing unknown information to prevent Mr. Khatri from having peace of mind a moment longer than necessary. So please," I asked her earnestly, "please explain what happened. Whatever secrets you have kept from Mr. Khatri must be made known. It's the only way you can help me find the truth."

I watched Henri's body language for any sign of intention. The droop of her shoulders, the sudden downcast face, the pain in her eyes... What was the root of the heaviness in her heart?

After a few tense minutes of silence, Henri turned to her desk drawer, which she unlocked to retrieve the portrait I had found. She turned the frame to me so I could see his face more clearly. "My son," she explained, "and my greatest shame. Mr. Skylark was... a good father, but a horrible husband. We were too young when we married, maybe. Or maybe he never should have married anyone at all, or maybe I'm as difficult to be wed to as he said. Shortly after Noah was born I couldn't take it anymore. We separated. I came here to work, Noah stayed with his father, and I sent my income to raise him. I would visit for holidays most years, I went to his graduations, but I wasn't..."

Her voice trailed off. I lifted my eyes from Noah's photo to her face. "You were a financial provider, but not a parent," I stated matter-of-factly.

She nodded in confirmation. "Noah was nineteen when his father died. He was out there in the world on his own. I tried to do what I could. I was paying for him to go to college, but he dropped out. I offered to help him find a job here, but he turned me down. He disappeared for a while, wouldn't answer my calls. Well, I couldn't force anything. He was his own person. I focused my attention here."

"Andrew was more like your child than your own son was," I suggested softly.

She laughed, surprising herself. "Oh! Well, yes, in many ways. That sounds horrible, doesn't it?"

"Family can be complicated." I returned my eyes to the photo. "When did he return to your life?"

"It was a strange little twist of fate," she said. Her words came out haltingly, and her fingers tapped against the photo frame. "Annie and Elaine wanted to have children, but of course they needed to look at options. And then Noah reached out to me. He had fallen to gambling. Insurmountable debts. He needed more money than I could provide..."

She took a shuddering breath. "Annie and Elaine told me they wanted to look into a sperm donor. Elaine had her private OB-GYN, but they needed to find a sperm clinic. They didn't know what the process would look like. So... I told them I would take care of it. I made connections with a sperm clinic that was willing to not ask too many questions. Turns out it's not difficult, really. I arranged for my son to come to donate, and gave him the money Annie and Elaine had set aside for a donor--with a portion set aside for the clinic director, of course. And then... And then Elaine had Tarak. And two years later I did it again, and then they had Marisol."

Her flushed face turned to the children's crafts hanging over her desk. "And I thought it was settled. Noah had the money he needed for his debts, and disappeared as suddenly as he had arrived. And now I had grandchildren to care for, right here with me. They looked so much like Elaine I thought no one would ever be the wiser. And if they ever needed to search medical history, I could provide the information for them easily, and pretend it was from the clinic records. Everyone was happy. No one had to know."

I watched her carefully. "Until?"

She sighed and folded her hands in her lap. "Until two years ago, when Noah called me. He was back in gambling debt, with terrible people. And I didn't have the money he needed."

I nodded in understanding. "So you went to Mrs. Khatri."

"I would have gone to them both," she insisted, "but Annie was away on business, there was no time, and there are some things you can't explain over a phone call. I was in tears, but Elaine, bless her, she was so understanding. Shocked, of course. And I wasn't sure what she was going to tell Annie. But she... She wrote Noah the check herself. And I logged into Noah's bank account on my phone--banks these days can do such fancy things. All you have to do is take a picture of the check, front and back. I forged his signature to make it deposit only. And in minutes, the money was his." She clutched her hands together, knuckles white. "And in hours, she was dead."

"And your secret was gone with her," I observed, keeping my face neutral.

"Lawrence knows," she protested. "He saw the withdrawal from Elaine's account as he was helping her settle affairs."

"And he's kept his silence all this time."

"It wasn't his business to tell."

"Or you demanded his silence. Or bought it."

She stiffened, and even scowled. "I was ready to face the music," she stated firmly. "No matter what she or Annie were going to think of me, no matter what they would have decided to do with me. The children are already here, loved for and cared for. What harm would knowing do?"

"That depends," I answered. "Possibly nothing at all. Perhaps Elaine and Andrew would celebrate the connection their children have to one of their most caring lifelong companions. Or possibly, you would be fired for extorting your employer, misusing the money from their sperm donor fund, and fraudulent behavior. And then you'd be ripped away from your grandchildren, your one chance at redemption after abandoning your son to escape your abusive marriage."

Henri sprung to her feet, fists clenched against her sides. "I ought to throw you out," she panted, seemingly so upset she could barely form the words.

"But you won't," I stated. "Because despite what you say, you never actually did face the music with Andrew, so the most important questions are still unanswered. Who killed Elaine, and will Andrew still love and accept you if he knows about Noah?" I rose to my feet and faced her, toe to toe. "Henri, I really do like you. You're intelligent and devoted. I want to believe the kindness you've shown me is genuine. If you ever respected me as your possible successor, trust me as your one chance to have those questions answered."

The anger in her face faltered. She failed to hold eye contact with me, turning back to the children's crafts pinned on the wall. Slowly, she lowered herself back into her chair. "I suppose it is a housekeeper's duty," she said slowly as she put Noah's picture away, "to sometimes protect the family in unexpected ways."

I returned to my seat as well. "I believe I presented in my job interview that I am willing to do the unconventional, but not illegal, to get the job done," I reminded her.

"You did. And I suppose searching through my drawers is not illegal. After all, technically all the information in these files is what you also have clearance for." She looked back at me suddenly. "But the check?"

"I didn't find that in your belongings," I reassured her. "I was in Andrew's old room."

"Hmm." The tight-lipped frown and the flush in her cheeks was beginning to fade away. Henri looked at me contemplatively. "You're doing this for him, aren't you?"

"I care about him, sincerely. I want to bring him peace."

She nodded slowly, her kind smile returning. I almost sighed in relief to see her familiar warmth. "These past two years have been so hard for him," she said. "Lonely and lost. Ever since he met you, he's started to find his light again." She reached across and took my hand, surprising me. "And if he ever decides to marry again... He could do a lot worse than someone willing to risk her job to find his peace."

Whether this was a genuine endorsement from Henri, or whether she was buttering me up to build her image of innocence, I wasn't entirely sure. Hopeful it may be the former, I put my other hand over hers. "Henri," I whispered, "surely you had access to my background check when I was hired."

"I did."

"Then you know," I emphasized, "it won't be possible for me to marry."

She only smiled. "My dear, the Khatri family has access to all kinds of resources. After all you're doing for Annie, I'm sure he'd be happy to clear any unpleasantness away."

"I know," I murmured, "but there are some things even money can't erase." I stood to take my leave. "I hope this conversation hasn't dissuaded you from attending Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow?"

"Not at all." She stood to accompany me to the door. "You've only reminded me how precious time with family can be."

-

I debated throughout dinner and evening what the best way to break the news to Andrew would be. Dinner itself had a gloomy air, with Alice, Lawrence, Henri, and I eyeing each other between bites. Thankfully Alice's presence was so exciting to Tarak and Marisol that their onslaught of curious questions and chatter for her cut through the tension. And to give her credit, she leaned into it, reminiscing with Andrew about their memories in answer to the little one's queries. Andrew himself seemed more confused than anything else. He relayed that he and Alice had a lovely but quick lunch where they had discussed her family's health and her desire to become closer to the Khatri household again, which the staff accepted without further comment. He laughed along with Alice and attempted to prompt Henri and Lawrence to join in the revelry, but whenever there was an awkward pause I could see his brows furrow as his eyes swept across the table.

As the kids were herded to bed and Henri and I completed our end-of-day tasks, I made my choice. I sent Andrew a quick text warning him I had something serious to discuss with him and asking where he would like to meet. Eventually he replied, assumedly after bedtime stories were finished, and said he'd be happy to meet in his room as usual.

I headed straight there, still in uniform and heart hammering. I didn't bother trying to keep a poker face, wanting to be as transparent with him as possible. So when I opened the door to his suite and he saw my expression, he immediately rose to his feet. "I don't know what's going on with today," he said, walking over to his bar cart, "but it seems like we're going to need a drink. What's your poison of choice?"

"Do you have gin or brandy?"

"I have gin." He opened an adjoining fridge hidden in the wall. "Straight or mixed?"

"What do you recommend?"

"I would add a splash of orange juice."

"Sounds great."

In moments he had two drinks prepared. He handed one to me and led me over to his loveseat, where we were reflected against the adjacent windows. He held my hand, thumb caressing over my knuckles, as we took our first long sips. I sighed deeply as I lowered my glass, setting it on the end table. Turning to him, I squeezed his hand. "What I'm about to tell you is egregious. I've severely overstepped the line of even our questionable arrangement. And as much as I justify my actions to myself by saying it's what I believe is best for you, any sane man would be understandably furious."

Andrew set his cup down and reached for my other free hand. "Are my children hurt or going to be hurt?" he asked.

"No, absolutely not."

"And you had good reason for what you've done?"

"I believed so. But you may disagree."

"I may. But." He brought one of my hands up to his lips, kissing it softly. "If I do, we will figure out what needs to be done. Now please tell me. I'm already concerned. It's been a weird day."

I chuckled wryly, but took a moment to collect my thoughts, and one last deep breath to settle my nerves. "Ever since the dinner party," I said, shakily, "I have been investigating your wife's death. And now I believe I know how to answer the questions of what happened. But I need your help."

Andrew held stone-still. His eyes shifted focus, seeming to look through me and stare deep into the past. After a moment he slipped his hands from mine and stood, striding over to the window and staring out into the darkness beyond. I held silent, waiting for him to question, lash out, send me away...

But he turned back to me, and tears were barely contained in his eyes. "I don't know how I feel," he admitted with a choked voice. "But I want to know everything. Please."

I told him every detail I could remember. Asking a specific staff member to help as my listening ears, although I told him I wasn't willing to divulge who it was at this time; confirming his alibi and eliminating the possibility of hired killers; finding Elaine's death certificate and autopsy; searching his old bedroom and management's office; my discussions with and suspicions of his three oldest companions. The longer I spoke, the more my stomach tied into knots and I felt bile rise in my throat. Listing it out loud like this, it was more apparent than ever how deeply I had dug into the most intimate and painful parts of his life without his knowledge or permission. I clutched my own hands, nails biting into my palm, forcing myself to continue until there were no more secrets.

Andrew held my eyes as he listened, the tears wiped away and his face eerily still. When I had finished, he turned back to the window. I watched his reflection in the glass anxiously, observing the emotions dance across his face. His creased forehead cast a shadow over his usually bright features, and he seemed to bite the inside of his cheek as he wrestled with his thoughts.

When he turned back to me, I was unprepared for his reaction. He swept over to me and scooped me into his arms, holding me tighter than he ever had, so tight I had to strain to breathe. Recovering from my shock, I wrapped my arms around him.

"Andrew?" I asked softly.

"You absolutely should not have done any of this," he mumbled into my shoulder. "But most of all you should not have done any of this without talking to me." He pulled back and cupped my cheeks in his hands, making me look him in the eye. "This is my household. My family. I should have been helping you. You should not have been doing this alone. Claire, you've asked me before if I trust you, and twice I have told you yes, implicitly. So trust me to trust you. You should have involved me from the start."

I felt my own tears burning. "I'm so sorry," I stammered. "You're right. You should have been a part of this the whole time."

"You beautiful, clever, absolutely reckless creature," he chastised me. "Well, you have me now." He sat properly on the loveseat and reached for his glass. "You need my help to solve this case, you said."

"I do. All three suspects will be attending Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow. It's our best chance."

Andrew took a large swallow, draining his drink. "So, my wife was murdered by either my ex-girlfriend, my children's secret grandmother, or my family's oldest and most loyal butler," he declared when he set down the glass.

"That about summarizes things, yes."

"Let's end this." His eyes were clear and his face burning with determination. "Tell me what to do."

-------------------

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

My dear beloved readers,

I don't have the words to express how much your support means to me. I've been wrestling through the crap of life to make this silly story idea a dream come true, and I'm so happy to announce there is a small publisher interested in this story! I have actually completed a full draft and we are in editing stages.

If the publisher accepts the manuscript, I will be required to ask Literotica to take this story down. If that does happen, fear not - you won't lose this story forever! If you would like a free ebook of the finished story, please message me, let me know an appropriate email address to use, and I can send you one if you agree to post an honest review on something like GoodReads or anywhere else you are comfortable as an ARC (Advanced Reader Copy) reader!

If you aren't sure whether it's worth getting the whole story, here's a taste of what's to come:

-two more chapters and an epilogue

-two more sex scenes

-bondage and toys and [spoilers]

-the murderer reveal (of course)

-a hint of where the next story will take our characters

That's right, next story, because I'm making this a trilogy! Aaah! And as soon as I'm working on the next draft, you know where I'll be posting chapters. ;)

In all seriousness, this community has been so encouraging, and although I'm too shy to respond to comments directly, I want you to know I am so grateful you've taken a chance on this story. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.