Page 117 of The Maid's Secret

“Friends?” I said, dumbfounded. “Whatever gave you that idea?”

She sniffed and crossed her arms. “So that’s what you think of me. I’m no good at my job, and it’s clear I’m the only maid not invited to your wedding.” Her bottom lip began to quiver.

“Goodness gracious, are you really upset because of that?”

“Yeah,” she said, nodding vigorously.

“But why would you want to come? You don’t even like me. You conspire against me at every turn. And at work, you do nothing to help the other maids.”

“Because I’m always left out,” she said as tears spilled down her cheeks.

I know that feeling—to be left out, to be shunned despite one’s best intentions. I looked at Cheryl, and I suddenly saw her shirking behavior in a whole new light.

“You and the other maids,” she said between sobs, “you’re like neat little peas in a perfect freak pod. I’m always the odd one out. Makes doing a good job kinda pointless.”

“Cheryl,” I said. “No one wants to leave you out. But we fear the consequences of including you.” I took a risk then. “Juan and I would be honored if you’d attend our wedding, but you must lead with generosity and kindness on our special day and every day at work. You know the consequences if you don’t. As for the maids, if you do your job well, they’ll include you in the fold. Can you do that?”

She considered, then nodded. True to her word, since that conversation, Cheryl hasn’t “taken a load off” even once during a shift. Not only that, she’s splitting tips fair and square with the other maids for the first time ever. Now, she clinks glasses with Sunitha and Sunshine, a picture I thought I’d never see.

Just then, all the maids turn toward the gold revolving doors as Speedy sails through them. Dressed in a frilly baby-blue tuxedo, he turns around to show off the back of his jacket—silver letters spelling outDJ SLAY. He lopes over to where Juan’s kitchen crew is gathered by the champagne flutes and hors d’oeuvres, exchanging high fives with them. Speedy will DJ both our ceremony and our reception in the hotel’s tearoom. He’s promised his musical selection will be “sick,” which I now understand to be a very good thing indeed. He’s even rigged a webcam in the lobby so that Juan’s family can watch the entire ceremony all the way from Mexico.

Angela, my maid of honor, is next to enter the lobby. She’s dressed in the same style of yellow dress as my bridesmaids, her hair pinned in a neat chignon at her neck. For once, not a single red strand is in a tizzy. A brawny woman wanders over to greet her. At first, I don’t recognize her, but then I realize it’s Detective Stark in a cocktail dress, her hair falling in soft curls on her broad shoulders. Angela’s lips move a mile a minute. She’s no doubt sharing that she recently gave notice to Mr.Snow after having been accepted into the local police academy, prerequisites waived on account of “experience in the field.”

As I watch all of this from behind my privacy screen on the terrace, the last arrivals revolve through the hotel’s gleaming gold doors. There’s my gran-dad with Charlotte, his daughter, who’s traveledfrom afar just for this. After them, in files my beloved groom, Juan Manuel, looking so handsome that my breath catches in my throat. It’s the first time I’m seeing him in his white tuxedo. I was there when he found it at the thrift shop around the corner from our apartment. He tried it on in the change room, assuring me it was perfect, but when I begged for a peek, he said, “Not a chance, Molly Gray! Not until our wedding day.”

Now, my impossibly gorgeous fiancé greets the gathered guests. I can tell he’s nervous because he can’t stand still. My gran-dad, dressed in a lovely black suit and bow tie, puts a hand on his shoulder and whispers something in his ear, which makes a smile break out on Juan’s lovely face.

Charlotte finds Mr.Snow, who’s pointing to the second step of the grand staircase, which is where we’ve agreed she’ll stand for the ceremony.

A few weeks ago, Gran-dad called me. He was so excited, he didn’t even say hello. “Molly, Charlotte was promoted. My daughter is now a judge! Can you believe it?” he announced.

“You must be so proud,” I replied.

“Indeed I am. Now that she’s a judge, she wants to officiate your wedding. What do you think?”

“Really? She’d do that for us?”

“Of course. She’ll fly in specially for it.”

I didn’t need to ask Juan, because he was listening in and nodding vehemently.

“It would be our honor,” I replied.

Now, Charlotte takes her place on the grand staircase, and when Mr.Snow taps a Regency Grand silver spoon against a champagne flute, all heads turn his way.

“Please make your way to the staircase. The ceremony is about to begin.”

Only then do my palms start to sweat. In the confines of my white, heart-shaped bodice, I struggle to breathe.Don’t faint, Molly,I tellmyself.Not now.I hear footsteps on the marble stairs and my gran-dad peeks around the privacy screen.

“Molly,” he says. “It’s time.”

I know he said the words, but I hear them in Gran’s voice, not his. Oh, Gran, you said it in your diary—the good moments gallop apace, over too soon. I want this day to last forever. I want to remember everything.

“I’m ready,” I say to Gran-dad.

He takes my arm and holds me upright as he’s done so many times before. Step by step, we descend the marble staircase as, courtesy of DJ Slay, Pachelbel’s Canon in D echoes through the lobby.

I take in the sea of faces below—family, friends, colleagues, loved ones. I’ve never been very good at reading expressions, and I cannot quite believe what I see reflected back at me on every single face. If I had to name it, I’d say it was admiration—and maybe even love. What I have done to deserve so much of it, I’ll never know, but I’m grateful beyond measure.

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