Page 105 of The Lost Heiress
“Does Ransom know that Mr. Santos is here?” Florence asked.
“No,” Saoirse said. “Of course he doesn’t know.”
Florence nodded. “Well then, it may be best if the two of you come around the back way with me. You can dry off in my room. The last thing we need is for your brother to see this and cause a scene.”
They took the back entrance to the servants’ quarters, which were quiet and empty. Everyone was busy working the party tonight. When they got to Florence’s rooms, she shut the door behind them and started a fire in the hearth. Santos shrugged out of his jacket and hung it up to dry. Saoirse shivered and hugged her bare arms. She was drenched to the bone.
“Child, go to your room, and put on a change of clothes,” Florence said. “You look like a drowned rat.”
Saoirse laughed and rolled her eyes. “Thanks, Tabby,” she said through clattering teeth. “I’ll be right back,” Saoirse told Santos. She stood on her tiptoes to give him a kiss.
When Saoirse had gone, Florence inquired if Santos had had anything to eat.
“No,” Santos said. “I came after dinner.”
“I’ll make you something, then,” Florence said.
Her rooms, the biggest in the servants’ quarters, had a small kitchenette. She pulled open the refrigerator door and bent down to look inside.
“How about navy bean soup?” she asked. “I have some left over from the other night. I can heat it up for you.”
“That sounds great, thank you,” Santos said.
She pulled out a small pot from her cabinet and clicked on the burner on her stove. Then she fiddled around in her drawers.
“I can never find my big wooden spoons,” she said.
Santos turned his back to her and went to warm himself by the fireplace. He sat down on the ottoman and held his hands out toward the heat.
“It’s good of you, to be so nice,” Santos said. “I know you don’t approve of me and Saoirse together.”
“No,” Florence said. “I don’t approve. But I know Saoirse, and she’s going to make her own decisions. There’s no standing in the way of that. Ah, here it is.”
She retrieved a wooden spoon from her drawer and poured some of the soup out of the Tupperware and into the pot. When it was warm enough, she ladled it into a bowl and brought the bowl and a spoon to Santos.
“Careful, it’s hot,” she warned.
She sat down across from him in her armchair.
He sipped at it. “Mm,” he said. “It’s very good.”
“Chef made a batch the other night, and I took some with me,” Florence said.
“It tastes different from how I remember it,” Santos said, taking another sip.
“You know Chef,” Florence said. “Always experimenting.” After a moment she asked, “So what will you and Saoirse do now that she’s of age?”
“We plan to be married,” Santos said. “We leave for Vegas in the morning.”
“Married?” Florence said, surprised. “Don’t you think that’s a little fast? You should take some time to really get to know one another first.”
“We know each other,” Santos said. “We don’t want to wait any longer to start our lives together.”
“I see,” Florence said. “And what does that look like? Your lives together?”
“Traveling,” Santos said. “There’s a lot we want to see. I want to take her to South America, first. Then Europe. We’ve talked about doing an African safari.”
“And after that?”
