Chapter Nineteen #2
“Must it be this morning?”
I blink. Does he have other responsibilities more important than sending a soul to God?
“Well, yes, Father. As ’tis the last rites, time is of the essence.”
He appears to think it over, his round, pink head wobbling from one side to the other, then he smiles. It’s an empty smile.
“I’ll be there presently.”
“Alma Ryan, Father. Do you know the house? I must go to work or I’d take you.”
“Alma Ryan. Aye. Aye, I know the house.”
He pauses, paying attention to me for the first time, and I know what he’s looking for. I dig in my purse then drop coins in his palm.
“I’ll see to her soon, then, Roisin Ryan. Off you go.”
The whole way to work, I fight tears. I cannot accept that Granny is preparing to die, and the very thought of it happening rips my heart to shreds.
I cannot be certain if Father William will even go to her, which makes me sick to my stomach.
But I do not want swollen, red eyes when I show up late for work, so I do my best to be calm.
I go to the chambermaid room to change. No one else is in here, because they are all working. As I am buttoning my uniform, Mrs. Evans walks in.
“I am not accustomed to you being tardy, Miss Ryan.”
Ah well. Bianca has forgotten to tell her. Thanks for nothing, old friend.
“No, ma’am. I’m very sorry.”
She leans in, inspecting my face. I’m certain it is blotchy despite my attempts not to cry. My head is pounding, and I cannot breathe through my nose.
“You’ve been crying. Is it your granny?”
I nod, not trusting myself to speak.
“Are you all right to work?”
“Yes, please, Mrs. Evans. She told me I must.”
All day, I keep my head down and work hard, trying not to think of Granny.
At half five, I go to Mr. Carboni’s suite for a second cleaning, since he asked for that again.
I’m weak with relief when I see he is not there.
I clean every inch of that room as quickly as I can, then I pack up and head to the door.
It swings open just as I’m reaching for the knob.
“Rosie Ryan.”
For the love of God. “Good evening, Mr. Carboni. I’ve just finished. I’ll get out of your way, if you don’t mind.” I need to squeeze past him, but he takes up the whole doorway.
“I saw your friend, Miss Fiore, earlier. She said you were at home, tending your sick nonna.”
I see. Bianca is all right telling Mr. Carboni about Granny, but not telling Mrs. Evans? What nerve she has. I am starting to question our friendship.
“Yes, sir, but she was well enough that she told me to go to work,” I say, managing a tiny smile.
Mr. Carboni reaches inside his shirt pocket and pulls out his billfold. He peers inside, then picks out a piece of paper. Well, you know what now, it’s not regular paper he’s handing to me. It’s money. In the middle of the bill that he holds out, it says TEN DOLLARS.
“Allow me to help with her medical expenses.”
“Holy God above! I’m fair sure my eyes are bugging out. Oh, sir. Thank you, but no! I couldn’t take that. ’Twouldn’t be right.”
“I insist. Think of it as a tip, if that sits better. A really nice tip.”
I don’t know what to do. Clearly this is not permitted, and if I take his money, what will he want in return?
In the back of my mind there is another, much darker thought. It’s too late. Even with his money, there’s not much any doctor could do for Granny now.
“It’s far too much. I’d not sleep a wink—”
“Yeah, you will. Take it. It’s for your granny. You wouldn’t want her to die without trying, would you?”
That big hand puts the money in mine and closes my fingers over it. Then it moves to my shoulder, and it squeezes. “It makes me feel good to help you, Rosie.”
“Good evening, Mr. Carboni.”
Thank the Lord above. ’Tis the voice of an angel: Mrs. Evans.
“Mrs. Evans. How nice to see you again.”
To me, that doesn’t sound truthful. I keep quiet.
“I hope you’re well, Mr. Carboni. I’m here to collect Miss Ryan, since there is some urgency to her returning home.” She lifts her hand toward me, and Mr. Carboni’s slides off my shoulder. “Come along, Miss Ryan.”
I sneak past him and stand beside her, ever so grateful. The money burns in my fist.
“Miss Fiore mentioned that Rosie’s nonna was ill,” Mr. Carboni said.
“Miss Fiore told you that, did she?” Mrs. Evans asks, sweet as syrup, and I know Bianca is going to get a talking-to. She has no place speaking with Mr. Carboni about anything, and we all know it.
“She did. So I’ve given Rosie some money to help cover the medical expenses.”
Well so, I hold the ten dollars up for Mrs. Evans to see. She reaches for it, alarmed, but Mr. Carboni gets to it first. He clamps his hand over mine.
“This money is for Rosie.” His voice is low and growly, holding both me and Mrs. Evans in place. “You ain’t gonna take it from her, got it? Consider it a tip for her excellent work.”
Mrs. Evans’s business face is back. “This is highly unusual, Mr. Carboni.”
“I imagine it is.” He waits calmly, observing her. I see a spark of amusement in his eyes. All I can think is: that’s a dangerous man. A beat passes, and nobody moves. I picture the watch on Mrs. Evans’s wrist, just out of my sight. It feels like time is moving very slowly.
Mrs. Evans blinks first. “Of course, sir. I’m sure your generous contribution to her grandmother’s welfare will be of great help.”
I try not to stare at her, but did I hear correctly? I am to keep the ten dollars? I see from the tight line of her mouth that she is not pleased, but I can also tell it’s not me she’s angry at.
“Run along home to your granny, Miss Ryan.”
I give Mr. Carboni the hint of a curtsy, feeling dizzy. “I’m obliged to you, sir. My granny will be beyond grateful for your kindness.”
He takes a step toward me, but Mrs. Evans is there first, prim as you please, standing like a wall between us. Her hand lands on my hip, where he can’t see it, and she gives me a little push.
“That will be all, Miss Ryan.”
Sure, I’ll not be fool enough to ask questions when luck falls in my lap. I grab my trolley and race with it to the elevator. While I wait, I hear them talking behind me.
“We’ve spoken about this before, sir. I’d appreciate it if you’d leave the staff alone.
They’re young and learning, and they are trained not to speak with the guests directly.
When you engage with them, they must be disciplined for disobeying.
I’m sure you wouldn’t want that for Miss Fiore or Miss Ryan. ”
“Is that right? Well, me, Mrs. Evans, I’d appreciate it if you’d stop poking your nose in my business. Noses get cut off all the time.”
“Mr. Carboni—”
“That’s enough, Geraldine.” His tone is sharp. “I got business to attend to, so get lost.”
Geraldine? I shut my mouth. Of course she has a first name. I just never thought about that. I peek back and am astonished by what I see. Mrs. Evans hasn’t backed down. She is a force to be reckoned with, though she is a quarter of the man’s size. She’s a hero to me.
“I will be moving Miss Ryan to a different floor tomorrow. I thought you should know.”
The elevator arrives, and I hold the door open just long enough to hear his response.
“No you won’t,” he growls. “Don’t change a thing if you know what’s good for you. Or for your brother.”
Mrs. Evans’s voice wavers, but she’s defiant. “You can’t scare me forever.”
“Oh, but I can.” Mr. Carboni chuckles darkly. “You should know by now that I don’t make empty threats.”
His door slams shut.
I jump into the elevator and press the button over and over, willing it to close quickly.
That was undeniably a threat. Mrs. Evans’s brother?
She has a brother? What’s he have to do with anything?
And if Mrs. Evans is in danger from Mr. Carboni, does that mean I am, too?
She clearly thinks so, based on our earlier conversations.
Barely thinking straight, I change into my own clothes, then dash out of the hotel.
Damien is working another four hours, I believe, with a private event.
I can’t wait for him; I will see him tomorrow.
Wrapping my jumper around me, I sprint all the way home, the ten-dollar bill scrunched in my hand.
“Granny!” I shout, running up the stairs. After I tell her, I will head to the doctor’s and get whatever medicine she needs. I’m eager to go, now that I can afford it. I burst into the room and drop my voice, seeing that she is asleep, then I crouch at her bedside.
“You won’t believe what happened!” I whisper. “I have money! I can buy you medicine.”
But she does not turn her head on the pillow. She does not chastise me for acquiring money that I shouldn’t have or accuse me of being a divil just for holding it in my hand. She does not open her eyes. Her mouth hangs open loosely, a cracked line of dried blood around it.
“Granny,” I whisper.
I want to touch her, but I cannot. I hold the back of my hand near her nose. No breath tickles my skin.
“No, Granny. Listen, I’ll not allow it.” My voice breaks. “You can’t be gone. You promised you’d be here when I got back.” Then I choke on a river of tears, because she’d kept her promise after all. Here she is, right in front of me, right where I left her.
I wonder if Father William ever came. Was he here when she passed? Or did she take her last, strangled breaths all alone in this dim corner of the room? Was mine the last face she ever saw?
I will never know.