Blackberry Winter by Sarah Jio

Author:Sarah Jio
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Contemporary Women, Azizex666, Fiction
ISBN: 9781101603499
Publisher: Plume
Published: 2012-09-25T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

VERA

Sitting at the table with Lon was painful. Not because of the pressure of the corset binding my waist or the heat of his gaze, like fire, on my chest. No, it was seeing the faces of the people I’d worked with, the faces of disappointment. Lou, the old jolly doorman, once a father figure to me, looked away as I walked in on Lon’s arm. Two maids whom I’d counted as friends, Jenny and Vivien, gave me sour looks in the lobby before turning back to the sconces they were dusting. I didn’t blame them for feeling betrayed. Primped and pressed in clothes that didn’t belong to me, I stood for everything we all detested about the upper class and their penchant for taking what they wanted. But I couldn’t worry about that now. I felt a lump in my throat and closed my eyes, long enough to see Daniel’s face, his soft cheeks, those blond silky curls hanging over his blue eyes. He always waited there in the dark quiet of my mind.

“What’s the sad look for, dollface?” Lon asked before prying open a crab leg with his teeth. A drip of butter rolled off his chin. “Why don’t you eat?” he said, pointing to the decadence laid out on the table.

The tears were coming. I couldn’t stop them now. “I’m sorry, Mr.—I mean, Lon,” I said. “It’s my son. I miss him terribly.”

“Now, now,” he said. “I’m sure he’s just fine.”

Just fine? I dug my fingernails into the upholstery of the chair. How can everyone be so dismissive about a lost boy? A child of three is missing, and no one cares. I buried my face in my hands, feeling Lon’s warm, moist hand on my shoulder a moment later.

“I’ll make some calls in the morning,” he said, trying to console me.

“In the morning?” I cried, looking up at him. “I beg your pardon, but couldn’t you call tonight?”

Lon shook his head. “All the offices are closed, darling,” he said. “Tomorrow.”

I nodded.

“Now,” he said, “let’s get you upstairs. You can relax there.”

I stood up hesitantly, dabbing a crisp cloth napkin against my cheek to blot a fresh tear. Lon held out his hand to me, and I took it reluctantly. He gave it a suffocating squeeze as he led me through the restaurant out to the lobby. I saw the elevator ahead. Servants weren’t allowed to use the guests’ elevator, with its ornate trim and shiny brass knobs. But I’d stepped inside it before, the first time I’d been a guest of the hotel. With Charles. I’d ended up in a bed of soft down. The bed where Daniel was conceived.

Four Years Prior

Charles picked me up at seven. A week had passed since he had exited the dance floor in such a hurry, ushered away by his prickly sister. I’d thought of him every day after that, particularly in the evenings, after my shifts at the restaurant, when the apartment was quiet. That night, I slid into the front seat of his Buick.

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