His smile fell. He squinted his eyes, looking at me a bit too closely for my liking. I raised my eyebrow. “What?”
“I’m sorry, Nora. You seemed… familiar. Just for a second.” He coughed and looked at the papers on the table. “Well, how about we go over your duties on the job? Please, take a seat.” After going over the documents, I chose to accept the offer. My duties weren’t extensive: brief cleaning in between monthly deep cleans done by a private company, running errands, and supervising the gardener and the contractors renovating the southern wing of the estate. “You see, I enjoyed doing these things myself,” he signed. “However, my health isn’t what it used to be.”
For the first time during our meeting, I smiled.
We stood up and shook hands. “You can start the day after tomorrow. I’ll need to hire a nanny for the little miss,” he smiled at Emily and booped her nose. “Oh, you shouldn’t—” “No, no, Nora. What good is it for the baby to go to daycare, when she can stay with her mom?” For the first time during our meeting, I smiled. I waited for his kindness to reveal its price. In my experience, people rarely gave without expecting twice as much in return.
But every morning, Richard found me before I began my work. “How are you today, Nora? Do you need anything?”
I waited for his kindness to reveal its price.
“I’m fine,” I always replied. He never seemed convinced, but he didn’t push. He hired a kind nanny named Ruth, though she hardly had anything to do. Richard spent every free moment entertaining Emily himself. I often found him crawling across the carpet while she rode on his back, both of them roaring like lions. Other times, he sat beside her tiny table, drinking imaginary tea from a plastic cup. For a serious man in an expensive suit, he looked ridiculous. Still, I began to smile whenever I saw them.
He sat beside her tiny table, drinking imaginary tea.
One afternoon, I sat in the kitchen after finishing my errands. My feet ached, and I allowed myself five minutes of rest. Richard appeared with a cup of tea and placed it before me.
“I’m supposed to be taking care of you,” I said.
“Then consider this my rebellion.”
Slowly, I stopped seeing him as a filthy rich man who pitied me. He was simply Richard—lonely, gentle, and far too willing to let Emily decorate his gray hair with pink ribbons. Then the phone rang. I stepped into the pantry to answer it. It was my landlord.
“I’ve given you enough time.”
“Please,” I whispered when he told me what I already feared. “Most of my first wages went toward hospital bills and overdue payments. I can give you part of the rent now and the rest next month.” “You said that before.” “I have a steady job now. I just need a little time.” “I’ve given you enough time.” My throat tightened.
“I have a daughter. Her father just died. Please, have mercy.”
He sighed as if my desperation bored him.
“You have one month to move out. After that, I’m changing the locks.” The call ended.
A floorboard creaked behind me.
I pressed the phone to my chest, struggling to breathe. I had fought so hard to give Emily a home, and once again, we were about to be thrown away. A floorboard creaked behind me. I turned. The hallway was empty. I frowned. I had enough trouble already. God forbid rats made it into this place. A few weeks later, I arrived at the estate and stopped just inside the entrance.
The place looked ready for a celebration.
Fresh flowers filled tall vases along the hall. Candles flickered on every surface, and somewhere in the house, soft music played. The place looked ready for a celebration. I frowned. Richard and I had agreed that he would warn me whenever he expected guests. On those days, my workload doubled, and I needed time to prepare.
Yet he hadn’t said a word. I found him in his study, standing beside his desk in a dark suit. He looked nervous, which was strange. Richard was always calm, even when contractors called with terrible news or Emily spilled juice on an antique carpet.
“Are you expecting guests?”
“There you are,” he said. “Please, Nora. Sit down.” “Are you expecting guests?” “Not exactly.” I sat, growing more confused by the second. Richard took a deep breath. Then, to my shock, he lowered himself onto one knee before me.
I’ve fallen in love with you.
“Honey, I know I’m much older than you, and maybe you’ll laugh in my face, but I’ll be honest. I’ve fallen in love with you. I don’t want to waste time pretending otherwise, so I want to ask you to marry me.” I stared at him. Of all the possibilities I had considered, this wasn’t one of them.
“I—I need to think about it.”
“Of course.” His smile faltered. “Take all the time you need.” He was 72. I was 35. But how much was there to think about? There was no one to judge me. Tom was gone. My foster families had forgotten me long ago, and Emily was too young to understand what marriage meant.
He could provide a kind of security no man before him could.
Richard could give her everything I couldn’t. A safe home. Warm meals. Good schools. A childhood without eviction notices or nights spent wondering where she would sleep next. He could provide a kind of security no man before him could. Would it really be wise to refuse?
“Yes.”
Richard’s face lit up. He slipped a ring onto my finger, then embraced me carefully, as though afraid I might break. For the next five years, I waited for the cost of my decision to reveal itself. It never did.
“Every choice matters.”
Richard never pressured me to share his bedroom or demanded that Emily call him her father. He gave us space, patience, and everything we had ever dreamed of. He spoiled Emily even more, though not only with gifts. He taught her to play chess, sitting across from her for hours as she struggled to remember how each piece moved. “Think before you act,” he would tell her. “Every choice matters.” When Emily caught a fever, Richard stayed beside her all night. He read stories, changed the damp cloth on her forehead, and refused to leave until morning.
I never found one thing to accuse him of.
