Chapter four
1234 Words
By seven-thirty that evening, Beatrice had officially decided that she hated her job.
She knew it was temporary.
She knew she would wake up the next morning, put on her clothes, pick up her handbag, and go right back to the same office.
But for tonight, she hated it.
She stood in front of the stove, stirring a pot of stew with one hand while holding her phone between her ear and shoulder.
“Auntie Grace, I’m telling you, that man is insufferable.”
Auntie Grace laughed on the other end.
“You’ve been saying that since you started working for him.”
“Because he keeps giving me reasons.”
“What did he do today?”
“He came late.”
“That’s all?”
“That’s enough.”
“Beatrice.”
“What?”
“You are complaining because your rich boss came eight minutes late?”
“He had a meeting at nine.”
“So?”
“So I had everything arranged.”
“Ah.”
Beatrice stirred the stew harder.
“He thinks because he’s the owner’s son, the whole world should adjust to him.”
“Isn’t he the owner’s son?”
“That’s not the point.”
“Then what is the point?”
“The point is that some people should learn discipline.”
Auntie Grace laughed.
“You’ve always been like this.”
“Like what?”
“Perfectionist.”
“I’m not a perfectionist.”
“You iron your clothes before you sleep.”
“That’s normal.”
“You arrange your wardrobe by color.”
“It’s easier to find things.”
“You once rearranged my kitchen.”
“Your kitchen needed help.”
Auntie Grace burst out laughing.
Beatrice smiled.
This was why she liked talking to her.
Auntie Grace had been around since Beatrice was young. She had seen her at her happiest and her lowest, and she had somehow remained one of the few people who could make Beatrice laugh when life felt too heavy.
“So tell me about this James,” Grace said.
Beatrice groaned.
“Why?”
“Because you mention him every time we talk.”
“I do not.”
“You’ve mentioned him four times tonight.”
“Because he’s my boss.”
“What’s he like?”
“Annoying.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“Rich.”
“Obviously.”
“Arrogant.”
“Expected.”
“Entitled.”
“Anything else?”
Beatrice paused.
She thought about James walking into the office that morning.
The effortless confidence.
The way everyone seemed to notice him.
The sharpness behind his casual attitude.
“He’s intelligent,” she admitted.
“Aha.”
“Don’t say aha.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“I know that tone.”
“What else?”
“He’s good at what he does.”
“Interesting.”
“Don’t make it sound like I’m interested in him.”
“I’m not saying anything.”
“You’re thinking it.”
“I am absolutely thinking it.”
Beatrice laughed.
“You are impossible.”
“Just be careful.”
“Of what?”
“Men like that.”
Beatrice rolled her eyes.
“Auntie Grace, please.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I. I’m not interested in him.”
“I didn’t say you were.”
“Good.”
“I said be careful.”
Beatrice turned off the stove.
“I have Theo to think about. I don’t have time for men.”
There was a pause.
Then Grace’s voice softened.
“How is he?”
Beatrice looked toward the dining table.
Theo was sitting there with an open science textbook, his chin resting on one hand.
“He’s fine.”
“Still asking questions?”
Beatrice smiled.
“Too many.”
“About his father?”
The smile disappeared.
“Yes.”
Grace was quiet.
“What did he ask?”
“The usual.”
“And what did you tell him?”
“That his father died before he was born.”
A long silence followed.
“Beatrice…”
“Don’t.”
“I’m not saying anything.”
“You were about to.”
“I was going to ask if you’re sure that’s what you want to keep telling him.”
Beatrice’s eyes moved toward Theo.
“I don’t know what else to tell him.”
“You know the truth.”
“Knowing the truth doesn’t mean it’s the right thing to tell him.”
“Maybe.”
Beatrice leaned against the kitchen counter.
“I was twenty, Grace.”
“I know.”
“I had nothing.”
“I know.”
“I was scared.”
“I know.”
“And I had a baby.”
Grace sighed.
“You had Theo.”
Beatrice smiled faintly.
“Yes.”
“And you did a good job.”
“I hope so.”
“You did.”
From the dining table, Theo suddenly looked up.
“Mom?”
“Yes?”
“Is Auntie Grace still there?”
“Yes.”
“Can I talk to her?”
Beatrice handed him the phone.
“Say hello.”
“Hello, Auntie Grace.”
“Hello, my clever boy!”
Theo smiled.
“How are you?”
“I’m fine. How are you?”
“I’m good.”
“Are you helping your mother?”
Theo looked toward Beatrice.
“Yes.”
Beatrice narrowed her eyes.
“How?”
“I helped her by not disturbing her.”
Grace laughed.
“That is very generous of you.”
Theo smiled.
Then his expression changed.
“Auntie Grace?”
“Yes?”
“Did you know my father?”
Beatrice froze.
Theo looked at her.
Grace was silent.
“Why are you asking that?”
“Because Mom doesn’t like talking about him.”
Beatrice closed her eyes.
“Theo…”
“I’m just asking.”
Grace cleared her throat.
“Your mother loves you very much.”
“I know.”
“And sometimes adults don’t talk about everything.”
“Why?”
“Because some things are difficult.”
Theo considered that.
“Was my father a bad person?”
Beatrice’s heart sank.
Grace didn’t answer immediately.
Theo looked at his mother again.
“Mom?”
Beatrice walked over and gently took the phone from his hand.
“Go wash your hands. Dinner is ready.”
“But—”
“Now.”
Theo sighed and stood.
“Okay.”
He walked toward the bathroom.
Beatrice waited until she heard the door close.
Then she put the phone back to her ear.
Grace was quiet.
“Don’t,” Beatrice whispered.
“I wasn’t going to.”
“You were.”
“I just think one day he’s going to ask questions you can’t answer with the same story.”
Beatrice looked toward the hallway.
“I know.”
“And what will you do then?”
Beatrice didn’t answer.
Because deep down, she knew.
She could protect Theo from the truth for years.
But she couldn’t protect him from curiosity.
Eventually, he would grow old enough to search for the answers himself.
And when that day came, Beatrice wasn’t sure which would hurt more—
telling him the truth,
or watching him discover it without her.
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