“And who authorized these drapes? They look like they belong in a mausoleum.”

Margaret sighed, smoothing down her black apron.

“I must go,” Margaret said. “She will want to complain about the dust next.”

I watched her leave, the swinging door creaking as it shut.

I took Emma to our small room on the third floor.

We stayed there for hours, Emma coloring on the floor while I mended a torn sheet.

But I could still hear the commotion downstairs.

Delivery drivers arrived, carrying heavy boxes of silver and crystal.

Vanessa was organizing the rehearsal dinner, a high-society affair scheduled for next week.

It was meant to introduce Julian’s associates to her family’s circle.

Around three o’clock, a knock came at my door.

I opened it to find Margaret standing there, holding a stack of heavy white linens.

“She wants the dining room prepared for a tasting,” Margaret said.

“And she has specifically requested you to serve, Claire.”

My chest tightened. “Me?”

“She wants to see if you can handle the dinner party next week,” Margaret explained.

“She told Julian she wants to test the staff’s competence.”