One Lamp Stayed Lit Until the Late Roses Bloomed

Chapter 4: A Place at the Table

The heat came back the next afternoon.

Warm air moved through the pipes with a hollow metallic clank, and the greenhouse temperature climbed one degree at a time. I stood beside the old red rose and listened to the change. When the contractor finished, I made him sign my notebook to confirm the work.

He laughed when I handed it to him. "You keep records like an auditor."

"I keep records like someone who has been told no one asked for repairs."

Julian had arranged for a portable heater in my cottage. It arrived that evening, along with a set of insulated gloves and a pair of wool-lined boots.

I left the boxes unopened on the kitchen table.

Julian found them there. "You don't like the boots?"

"I don't like gifts."

"These are from the estate."

"Then they're not gifts. They're equipment."

"Fine. Equipment."

I opened the box and checked the label. The boots were a size too small.

"Who ordered these?"

"I did."

"Did you know my shoe size?"

"No."

"Then you guessed."

"I was trying to help."

"I know." I set the boots down. "But this keeps happening. You decide what I need and bring it to me."

"Would you rather freeze?"

"No. I'd rather be asked."

He looked at the boxes, then back at me. "What size?"

"Seven."

"I'll exchange them."

"Thank you."

He didn't argue. I found that more unsettling than an argument would have been.

The next morning, Peter stopped me outside the greenhouse.

"Your room has a heater now," he said.

"I know."

"Good. I hope you understand how much the family has done for you."

"I understand that I still need my wages."

His smile dropped. "You should be careful."

"About what?"

"About mistaking Julian's attention for a promise. The family has been generous, but this isn't your house."

"I never said it was."

"You're welcome to work here as long as you remember your position."

I opened the greenhouse door. "I remember it every time I have to ask someone else for bus fare."

Peter's face went red around the collar. "Don't make a scene."

"I didn't."

"Your attitude has changed."

"Maybe my hands have."

He walked away. I shut the door and started the morning's watering.

That afternoon, Julian found me under the trellis, pruning a damaged rose stem.

"Peter spoke to you," he said.

"He did."

"What did he say?"

"That the family has been generous."

Julian's jaw tightened. "He had no right."

"Does that matter?"

"It does to me."

"Then do something."

He watched me cut the stem. "I have a board meeting tomorrow. I'm putting the medical account and the heating invoices on the agenda."

"Will your father be there?"

"Yes."

"Will he be the one deciding whether you can do anything?"

"The board decides. My father chairs it."

"That's not the same as having a choice."

"No," Julian said. "It isn't."

He stayed while I finished pruning. When I asked him to hold the basket, he did. His hands were too clean for the job, and the thorn tips snagged his cuff. He didn't complain.

When we had finished, he carried the basket to the compost bin. I noticed a thin line of blood across his thumb.

"You got cut."

"It barely broke the skin."

"Wash it. Roses carry bacteria."

He went to the sink and let the water run. I handed him the soap.

"Thank you," he said.

"You can thank me when you stop bleeding."

He turned his hand beneath the tap, and I watched the red thin and disappear.

At dinner, Mrs. Ashcombe asked me to sit with the family.

She had always spoken to me politely, but never as though I belonged at the table. This time she placed a card beside my plate with my name written in the same careful hand as the seating cards at the winter benefit.

"I thought we should have a proper conversation," she said.

I sat. Julian was already there. His father sat at the head of the table, the seat no one else used.

"We need to discuss the greenhouse," Mr. Ashcombe said.

"Which part?" I asked.

His eyebrows lifted. "The heating contract."

"The heating is working now."

"So I hear."

"The old contractor billed for a repair that wasn't completed."

"My estate manager has assured me the work was done."

"I have the invoice, the contractor's report, and my maintenance log."

I placed the folder beside my plate.

Mr. Ashcombe didn't touch it. "You have no authority to investigate estate accounts."

"I didn't. I recorded the temperature in the greenhouse where I work."

"Your job is to care for the plants."

"I have been doing that."

"Then continue doing it."

Julian leaned forward. "Father, the repair money is missing."

"That has not been established."

"The contractor confirmed no work was done."

"Contractors make mistakes."

"The money was paid."

"Then the accounts can address it."

I watched Julian. He looked angry, but anger was easy. I wanted to see what he would do when anger cost him something.

Mr. Ashcombe turned back to me. "You are a good gardener, Clara. I would hate for you to let this matter distract from your work."

It was not a threat. It was shaped like one.

"I'd hate that too," I said.

Mrs. Ashcombe glanced from me to her husband. "Perhaps we can settle the medical account first."

"I would like my pay records," I said. "And an explanation for the deductions."

"We will discuss it with payroll," Mr. Ashcombe said.

"That is what I was told last week."

He cut his food. "Then you can be told again."

I looked down at the card with my name on it. The dinner went on around me. No one asked another question about the missing money.

Afterward, Julian walked me back to the greenhouse.

"You could have let me speak for you," he said.

"I did let you speak. You spoke to your father."

"And he ignored me."

"He didn't ignore you. He heard you and decided it wasn't important."

Julian stopped under the corridor lamp. "What would you have me do?"

"Don't ask me to make the decision for you."

"That's not what I meant."

"I know." I reached for the door handle. "I just need you to know the difference."

He didn't follow me inside.

I turned on the greenhouse lamp. The old red rose had opened another layer of petals. For the first time in months, the air around it was warm.