Page 116 of The Maid's Secret

Love endures. It lasts. It will endure beyond me, I promise. Love is what I leave behind so that every day of your life, you will know that I’m with you. And from you, I take the same—your love—as comfort into the night.

My heart is yours forever, as yours is mine,

Your gran

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Chapter 37

One Month Later

The day has finally come. For the longest time, I thought it never would or that some calamity would strike me down before I could enjoy this moment IRL, as Juan would say. But here I am, dressed in a beautiful used white gown that Angela and I found at a vintage shop and that Sunitha and Sunshine altered for me stitch by hand-sewn stitch.

It is my wedding day. I’m seated on the terrace of the Regency Grand, hidden behind a privacy screen so none of the guests in the lobby below can spot me. I’ve been hiding for over an hour, sneaking peeks through the slats and observing the bustle below as guests enter the hotel.

I’ve always loved the view from this terrace—the opulent lobby with bellhops click-clacking across the fine marble floors; the emerald love seats where guests whisper to each other, their secrets absorbed by the plush velvet. Today, the people entering the lobby are not strangers but invited guests, all known to me. They’re dressed soelegantly, and I can tell they’re excited to witness the ceremony that will join Juan and me in matrimony for the rest of our lives.

I should be nervous, but I’m strangely calm. So much has happened in the last two months. I was about to become a multimillionaire. Then I wasn’t. I was popular. Then I wasn’t. I was the victim of theft and threats. Then I wasn’t. And just when all the commotion around the Fabergé seemed resolved, the upheaval at home intensified. Two weeks ago, Mr.Rosso ordered us out of our apartment. Though it hasn’t yet sold, he believes it will look better to potential buyers empty rather than with Juan and me in it. While planning our wedding, we’ve packed our lives into cardboard boxes. Our search for a new apartment has been fruitless—the cost of rent has skyrocketed in this city—but just when we thought we might become homeless, Gran-dad stepped in, offering us a room in his house. “You’ll always have me,” he said, “and besides, it’ll be nice to have two young lovebirds around. You can stay as long as you want.” And so it was decided that, a week after our wedding, we will move in with Gran-dad as we continue our search for a home of our own.

I don’t know what the future holds, and despite so much uncertainty, generosity abounds wherever I look—in the dress I’m wearing, lovingly tailored by my friends; on the tables in the lobby below me, filled with delicious delectables, made by Juan’s kitchen staff. The very fact that this wedding is taking place at the Regency Grand is thanks to Mr.Snow’s beneficence. He approached me a few weeks ago, his brow furrowed.

“Molly,” he said, “I know you’ve always insisted on a small city hall wedding, but are you sure that’s what you want? It’s not too late to hold the wedding here.”

“That’s very kind, but Juan and I can’t afford it,” I said. “The rental cost alone equals my yearly salary.”

“Goodness gracious, Molly. You’re part of the Regency Grand family. I’d never make you pay. Did I not make that clear?”

“If you did, I’m afraid I missed the cue,” I reply.

“All fees will be waived, and the catering will be my gift to you and Juan. What do you say?”

Juan and I gratefully accepted, and just like that, our four-person, city hall wedding exploded into a full-blown ceremony to be held in the Regency Grand lobby, followed by a catered reception and dance in the tearoom.

Not long after today’s date was set, I received a phone call from Baxley Brown. He wanted to update me, not only about the Fabergé but about his former partner in life and art, Thomas Beagle.

“Molly, he pleaded guilty to all the charges against him. Thomas wanted me to tell you how sorry he is for what he put you through. Sometimes good people do bad things,” he said.

“I know that,” I replied. “And the good ones make amends. I’m glad to have his apology.”

“Speaking of amends,” said Baxley, “he signed over full ownership of the egg.”

“To whom?” I asked.

“To me,” Brown replied, “as compensation for the harm he’s caused me.Hidden Treasureswas canceled after his crimes became headline news. Our auction business will never recover. I thought long and hard about who to sell the Fabergé to, and in the end, I sold it to a museum. I took a lower price, but it was worth it to see history preserved.”

I was quiet as I took this in. How fitting that the egg would no longer be a hidden treasure, that it would be on public display to be enjoyed by one and all.

“You’ve done a good thing,” I told Baxley Brown. A thought occurred to me, about good deeds and how one begets the next. “I wonder,” I said, “if you’d join Juan and me on our wedding day. It’s only two weeks away. We’d love to have you.”

There was silence on the line. “You’d want me there? No hard feelings?”

“None whatsoever. We’d be honored to have you as our guest.”

“Count me in,” Brown replied.

Now, as I peek through a crack in the privacy screen, I spot Baxley Brown easily in the lobby since he’s a head taller than everyone else, and he’s wearing his trademark indigo velvet waistcoat. He’s chatting with his former showrunner, Steve (sans ironic baseball cap, thank goodness), who he’s brought along with him. Mr.Snow welcomes them both, bowing in his dapper coattails. Nearby, Sunshine, Sunitha, and Lily—my radiant bridesmaids—are helping themselves to free champagne courtesy of Mr.Snow. They’re dressed in matching yellow satin gowns sourced from a discount store. On my orders, they’re making small talk with Cheryl, who came to me a week ago most distraught after Mr.Snow had me put her on probation. She was given a week to shape up or be dismissed from her job.

When I shared the happy news that Juan and I were to be married at the Regency Grand, she was shocked, but not for the reason I suspected. “I thought we were friends,” she said.

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