“Of course,” she said calmly. “What time would you like?”
“Around 7:00. I’ll be here.”
He nodded and went back down the hallway to his study.
Rebecca stood at the stove and watched the eggs.
Not about the job.
Her heart was beating at a slightly different pace than usual. She noticed it the way you notice a clock that has started ticking louder, not alarming, just present, impossible to ignore.
She finished making his breakfast. She carried it to the table. She set it down without a sound.
The day moved slowly. She did her work thoroughly, the way she always did, but the hours felt longer than usual, each 1 arriving and passing with deliberate patience, as if time itself had decided not to hurry.
That day, Mr. Caleb worked in his study all morning. At lunch he came to the table and ate quietly, then went back. She heard him on the phone once in the afternoon, speaking in his clipped professional voice about something to do with a building permit. Normal things. Ordinary things.
But twice, when she passed the study doorway on her way down the hall, she caught him not working, just sitting with his hands folded, looking somewhere that was not the room.
She made dinner at 6:00—rice, grilled chicken, a small salad—and served it at the usual time. He ate. She cleared. She washed the dishes and dried them and put them back in their places.
Then she sat at the small kitchen table and waited.
She heard his chair move, his footsteps in the hallway, the soft sound of the sitting room light being turned on.
“Rebecca.”
She stood up, smoothed her top, and walked to the sitting room.
He was standing by the window rather than sitting in his usual chair. The evening light was going, the sky outside deep orange at the bottom and fading to blue at the top. The room was warm and quiet.
He turned when she came in. He gestured to the chairs.
“Please sit down.”
She sat.
He remained standing for a moment longer, looking at the floor. Then he sat too, on the edge of his chair, leaning forward slightly, his hands loosely clasped.
He looked at her, and she looked at him, and for a long moment neither of them spoke, because some moments need a little space before the words come, because what was about to happen had been 30 years in the making and deserved, at minimum, a breath.
Then Mr. Caleb opened his mouth.
