Page 112 of The Maid's Secret

I asked him if he’d graduated from university. He had not, he said, because he never went. Uncle Willy couldn’t find work, and so John had to move to the city with his father, taking on a job to support them both.

“So what do you do now?” I asked.

“I’m a bellhop at the Century Hotel downtown.”

I had to laugh. “The top two students in our prep class—a bellhop and a maid. Life isn’t fair.”

“No, it isn’t,” he replied.

“How’s Uncle Willy?” I asked.

He shook his head. “He died two years ago.”

The news hit me like a blow to the chest. “I’m so sorry,” I said. “He was a good man, like father like son.”

John stared at me. “I looked for you everywhere, Flora,” he said. “I asked about you. No one from back home knew where you’d gone. I thought you’d died.” His eyes filled with tears. “And then not long ago at the hotel, I ran into that snivelly-faced redhead who was in our prep class. Percival. Do you remember him?”

“Of course,” I said.

“He’s a politician now. Can you believe it? Couldn’t write a sentence when we knew him, and now he’s running for office.”

“The way of the world,” I replied.

“His parents got me your address.” He wrung his hands in his lap,and that’s when I noticed the ring, not the Claddagh, but a simple gold band on his ring finger.

“I’m…married,” he said. “Mary. She’s a good woman, Flora. She reminds me of my aunt. You remember her?”

“How could I forget?”

I looked over at our little girl playing on the floor. “Maggie,” I said. “Will you serve our guest some tea?”

John’s mouth fell open upon hearing the name. His daughter trotted over, offered him a plastic teacup, then curtsied and walked away.

“Thank you…Maggie,” he said, his voice cracking. He turned to me. “You have to let me help you. And her,” he said.

“We’re fine,” I said. “We make our way.”

“If ever there’s a problem, Flora, if you find yourself in need, I’m here. For you and for her.”

“Thank you,” I said, my voice constricted and meek.

“You should meet her, my Mary,” said John. “She knows everything—about us, I mean. And she understands, too. She’s a good woman with a big heart.”

“I would expect no less from a wife of your choosing,” I said.

John gave me his phone number and I gave him ours, but whenever he called, insisting on helping us, I declined. Months later, I received a call from a cheery woman with a voice like chimes tinkling in the wind. It was Mary Preston, inviting me to tea. I went because I didn’t know what else to do, and I’m glad I did. John was right—she was a bighearted woman with so much love to give, it spilled everywhere. She became my lifelong friend. The moment I met her, I knew I’d done the right thing by letting John go. I’d spared him the travails of a harder life, and Mary loved him as well as I ever could, made him so happy, and eventually gave him a baby girl named Charlotte.

Mary visited me often after that. Knowing how hard it was to make ends meet on a maid’s salary, she’d hide money in my house for me to find after she left, always refusing to take it back, saying with a winkit wasn’t she who’d left it but the fairies. Mary and John were quietly there for us always, whenever we needed. Once, I asked her why she’d accepted me in her life, given the history between me and her husband.

“Because we’re the same, you and me. There but for the grace of God go I. Besides, we have something important in common,” she said.

“And what’s that?”

“All we’ve ever wanted is for John to be happy.”

But when your mother was a teen, Molly, the problems began, and John and Mary were desperate to help. We tried to guide Maggie back to the fold, but our tactics didn’t work. And when you were born, you were a beacon of hope, lighting up our lives, but Maggie still struggled. Young as she was, she couldn’t cope. She disappeared with a fly-by-night, leaving me to raise you as my own. Know this, Molly: I love you with every fiber of my being, and I will love you long after I’m gone. Others love you, too, more than you realize.

As time passed, Molly, you grew and you learned and thrived in your own way. And when you were of age to seek employment, it was John to whom I turned. He was working as a doorman at a posh hotel called the Regency Grand. I asked if he’d talk to the manager about getting you an interview as a room maid, and he did. Your interview didn’t go well. Mr.Snow felt you lacked the social skills required to be in a public position, but John begged him to give you a chance, said he’d look out for you. Mr.Snow relented.

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