Savage Pride

6

“I started to think you two had gotten lost. Your sisters have both been sent out on errands, and I could really use your help upstairs. All twelve bedrooms will be occupied tonight. I’ve got Laney working on that, but she’s been slower than molasses lately. If she’s left to do it all on her own, she won’t finish until midnight.” Laney is the dedicated housekeeper who lives in a small suite on the third floor and works with Gia. She’s in her mid-forties and has worked for the family for more than a decade. It always strikes me as a little odd that she doesn’t have her own family and still lives at Hardwick, but Gia is in nearly the same situation, so who am I to judge? Laney seems to like her job and living arrangements, and her opinion is the only one that matters. She reports to my mother, who managed to score a job overseeing the household staff not long after Dad was offered the job as groundskeeper and head of security. Mom’s job is a bit ironic since she can’t maintain her own home worth a flip, but she somehow manages to perform adequately enough that she has yet to be fired, and by some stroke of luck, her staff turnover rate has been surprisingly low. Only a few De Rossis live at Hardwick full-time, so a large staff isn’t needed. Mom fills in when the family hosts a party or houses guests, but this funeral is an entirely different matter. People will be gathering from all over the country to honor the late Mr. De Rossi, who was intricately involved in politics and who knows what else. “We’ll go ask Laney what rooms still need to be prepared,” Gia assures her. I follow my sister from the kitchen to the walk-in linen closet, where we luck out and find Laney collecting supplies for her next room. “Hey, Laney.” Gia smiles warmly. “Mom sent us to help. Where should we start?” The thin woman’s shoulders slump with relief. “Thank God. I wasn’t sure how I was going to get everything done. Most of the bedrooms haven’t been used in over a year, so Mrs. De Rossi wants all new sheets put on the beds. I’m also giving the bathrooms a scrub. I’d been working room-byroom doing both, but if you two could get the beds taken care of, I’ll finish up the bathrooms.” “Absolutely. What rooms have been done already?” “It’s early, so I’ve only gotten to the first two on the far east end of the hall. I had enough fresh sheets clean for half the rooms but have stripped the other half already to get those sheets in the wash. Here.” She snatches two piles of white linens from the shelf and hands them to Gia, then places a bucket of cleaning supplies in mine. “The next two rooms are queen bedrooms. And do a sweep for any extra touches that may be needed—a quick vacuum of the drapes or the removal of any cobwebs. We don’t do a thorough clean of those areas except maybe once a year, so there’s no telling what we’ll find. But don’t tackle too much because we only have so much time.” She suddenly stops and takes a shuddering breath. “Heavens, I can’t believe this is happening. It was so sudden. He was there one minute and gone the next.” When her eyes find us again, they’re red and glassy. Gia places a hand on Laney’s shoulder. “It’s a hard time for everyone. Try not to overtax yourself, and don’t worry about the bedrooms. We have them covered.” Laney nods and picks up her bucket. “Holler if you need me.” She gives us a sad smile before disappearing down the hall. A somberness settles over us that is amplified by the quiet stateliness of the old home. The rich mahogany wood and Persian rugs are a testament to time. Owners will come and go, but Hardwick will long remain. The empty silence in its hallways is a stark reminder of our temporary nature. “Well”—I shake off the despondency—“let’s get started upstairs.” Where the windows will let in some sunlight and cheer. While I feel bad for the De Rossi family, I prefer not to embrace their sorrow. Maybe it’s shallow of me, but I don’t like to be sad. For someone like Gia, who is a natural empath, it can be hard to avoid feeling the full extent of another’s grief, but I’m not so unfortunate. And as such, it has always been my role to lift her spirits as well. I flash her an encouraging smile and signal for her to lead the way. We used to play hide-and-seek with Zeno and his brother, Nevio, at Hardwick when we were kids, so I know the house well. Not much has changed within these stately walls, even though it’s been years since I’ve stepped foot inside. Any uncertainty I feel is a matter of me being an outsider rather than an issue of familiarity with the floor plan. If we should run across the new master of the house, he will most certainly deem my presence an intrusion. He made that clear years ago. As luck would have it, we make it to our destination without encountering a soul. Our first bedroom contains a hand-carved poster bed and other furnishings either original to the house or expert reproductions. There’s even an ornate vanity decorated with a set of colored glass perfume bottles. The attached antique mirror is mottled with webbing and flecks of gold—clearly kept for its aesthetic rather than function. The drapes are a heavy tapestry material held back by two giant tassels and match the blue and gold rug beneath the bed. The room is exquisite, if not a tad stuffy from being closed off for so long. If it wasn’t for the modern alarm clock on the nightstand, I could swear that I had stumbled onto the set of Downton Abbey or some BBC murder mystery show. “Something is comforting about a house that’s been around for so long, as though it's impervious to the changing world around it. Maybe that’s why De Rossi moved here from the city—to find a sanctuary for his family,” I muse. “I’m pretty sure it has more to do with the other high-profile residents in the area, but that could have played a part.” He had frequently schmoozed with his fellow landowners over the years. I wasn’t sure what he did in his role as Giordano underboss, but he was friends with people in high places. I grab a corner of the comforter and peel it back, mirroring Gia’s movements on the opposite side of the bed. “Whatever the reason, I’m glad the family is staying. I’m not sure what would happen to Mom and Dad if they had to leave. I doubt they could afford to be unemployed for long.” Gia is suspiciously quiet after my comment. I narrow my eyes and study her. “What aren’t you saying?” “Nothing, exactly. I’ve just had an odd feeling lately. Mom bought several things a while back like a Louis Vuitton bag—things she has no business buying. Then all of a sudden, the items started disappearing. I’m guessing she’s selling them, but I’m not sure why, and I’m afraid to ask.”