Chapter5
377 Words
8 PM came slow.
Reilly smoothed the same ivory dress. There was nothing else to wear. She followed the sound of silverware downstairs.
The dining room was huge. Too long table. One plate at the head. The rest of the seats were empty, covered in white cloth like they were waiting for people who’d never come.
The housekeeper was setting out another place anyway. When she saw Reilly, her hands paused.
“M-Mrs. Hemsworth,” she stammered, then quickly pulled the extra plate away. “Mr. Hemsworth prefers to eat alone. Unless the madame—”
“I know,” Reilly said quietly. She didn’t sit at the head. She took the chair closest to the kitchen instead. The cold one. “Can I just… wait here? In case he comes back hungry?”
The housekeeper looked at her. Really looked. At the dress with no jewelry. At the single suitcase upstairs. At how she kept her hands folded in her lap so she wouldn’t shake.
Something softened in her eyes.
“He’s always late,” she whispered, like it was a secret. “And he never eats what we make for him. Just coffee. Black.” She hesitated, then added, “You must be hungry though. Let me bring you something. Before it gets cold.”
Reilly nodded. “Thank you. What’s your name?”
“Martha,” the housekeeper said, already moving to the kitchen. “And… you don’t have to sit alone if you don’t want to, dear. This house is too big for that.”
The front door stayed closed. No sound of a car. No Liam.
Martha set down soup. Simple. Warm. She didn’t ask questions. Just pushed the bread closer and said, “Eat, Mrs. Hemsworth. You’re too thin.”
Reilly stared at the steam. Her throat hurt. Not from hunger.
“Reilly,” she said softly. “Call me Reilly.”
Martha smiled, small and sad. “Alright, Reilly.”
Upstairs, the rooms stayed dark. Downstairs, the clock ticked.
And the head of the table stayed empty.
- Writer
