Chapter 2 – THE MONEY BEHIND THE NAMES

“Four years?”

Vanessa stared at the payment history.

“That isn’t possible. Hearthbridge only began handling the transition last month.”

Luca didn’t look away from her.

“Then explain the dates.”

“I can’t explain something I haven’t seen before.”

She reached for the document.

This time, he handed it to her.

I watched her read.

Her eyes moved quickly, pausing at the figures near the bottom.

Something in her expression changed.

It wasn’t the look of a woman caught telling a small lie.

It was the look of someone realizing a problem was larger than she’d expected.

“These are historical records,” she said. “The company must have imported the old payroll information.”

“Historical records don’t explain recent payments.”

“Perhaps the pension account wasn’t closed properly.”

Luca turned toward me.

“Margaret, who handled Evelyn’s final paperwork?”

“I did, with your mother’s accountant.”

“Did you keep copies?”

“Of course.”

Vanessa made a small, impatient movement.

“Does Margaret keep every piece of paper anyone has ever handed her?”

I looked at her.

“Not every piece.”

Then I added, “Just the ones people might need later.”

Luca almost smiled.

It reminded me of his mother.

Mrs. Moretti could lose her reading glasses three times before breakfast, but she never misplaced a receipt.

She used to say that money had a way of forgetting where it belonged unless somebody wrote it down.

The last year of her life, she had me help organize the household records.

Not because she distrusted Luca.

Because she knew he’d inherited more responsibility than any twenty-something should have carried, and she wanted the people who had cared for her family protected.

I’d never thought those records might matter again.

“Where are the copies?” Luca asked.

“In the household office.”

“Could you get them?”

“Yes, sweetheart.”

Vanessa stood.

“I’ll come with you.”

Luca looked up.

“No.”

Her cheeks flushed.

“You can’t seriously think I’m going to interfere with some old paperwork.”

“I don’t know what to think yet.”

He glanced toward the guests.

“Dinner is over. My staff will arrange transportation for anyone who needs it.”

People began moving reluctantly.

Some approached with awkward goodbyes. Others avoided our table entirely.

I remained seated until the room had nearly emptied.

It felt strange.

Usually, at the end of a dinner, I was the one making certain the candles were extinguished and the serving dishes cleared.

Tonight the silver platters were still on the sideboard.

Nobody had touched dessert.

Luca noticed me looking at them.

“Margaret?”

“I made the lemon cake.”

He followed my gaze.

“For tonight?”

I nodded.

“Your mother always said a celebration wasn’t official until somebody had seconds.”

His expression softened.

“Save me a piece.”

I stood.

Then I stopped.

“Luca, you ought to know something.”

He waited.

“Mrs. Carter signed her papers yesterday.”

Vanessa closed her eyes.

“Margaret, please.”

“She didn’t want to. Her husband has been out of work since his surgery.”

Luca’s expression hardened.

“Did she receive her severance?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Why not?”

“Mrs. Bellini said payments would be processed after the wedding.”

He turned toward Vanessa.

“You told them signing was required to collect money already owed, and then you delayed payment?”

“The company handles disbursements.”

“Stop blaming a company.”

For the first time, Vanessa’s voice cracked.

“You make it sound so simple.”

“It is simple. They earned the money.”

“No, Luca. What you’ve promised them is simple. Paying for it is something else.”

Silence settled between them.

I looked at Vanessa.

She seemed to regret the words immediately.

Luca spoke carefully.

“What does that mean?”

“Nothing.”

“It didn’t sound like nothing.”

She pushed her chair beneath the table.

“Your mother’s arrangements were made years ago. Costs have changed. The household expenses have doubled. I’ve been trying to make sense of accounts nobody has properly reviewed.”

“Which accounts?”

She hesitated.

“The employee service reserve.”

I knew that name.

Mrs. Moretti had established the reserve to protect longtime employees when they retired, became ill, or could no longer work.

It wasn’t the same as ordinary wages.

Luca funded it annually, and benefits were based on years of service.

I’d never asked how much money it contained.

I only knew what the arrangement meant to people like Mrs. Carter, who had given this house the better part of their working lives.

Luca looked at Vanessa.

“Why have you been reviewing that account?”

“Because your finance office gave me the household budget reports.”

“Budget reports don’t authorize you to change employee benefits.”

“I wasn’t trying to change them.”

I glanced at the resignation agreement still lying on the table.

Vanessa noticed.

“All right,” she said. “I was trying to reduce future obligations. But those arrangements are terribly outdated.”

Luca said nothing.

She stepped closer.

“Do you know what happens when someone works here for thirty years? They leave with more than some people earn in five.”

“They’ve earned that.”

“I’m not disputing their loyalty!”

“Then why are they being asked to surrender it?”

She pressed her fingers against her temples.

“Because there isn’t enough money to keep making promises at the current rate.”

Luca went still.

“What?”

“That’s what the reports indicate.”

He reached for his jacket.

“Margaret, stay here.”

“Where are you going?”

“To my office.”

He stopped beside Vanessa.

“And you’re coming with me.”

We crossed the hall together.

I had walked that corridor thousands of times, but never in an evening dress, with Luca carrying my employment papers like evidence.

His office was exactly as his father’s had been: dark wood paneling, green leather chairs, and a heavy desk beside the windows.

Luca opened the lower cabinet and removed a gray folder.

He had received the annual reserve statement six weeks earlier.

I recognized the cover.

Vanessa stood near the doorway.

“Those figures may not be current,” she said.

Luca checked the balance.

“Last year’s closing reserve was one million, two hundred and forty thousand dollars.”

He turned the page.

His eyebrows drew together.

Then he opened a second statement.

“This can’t be right.”

“What?” I asked.

He pointed to a column.

“Over four hundred thousand dollars has been moved out of the reserve since January.”

Vanessa stared at him.

“That amount includes anticipated operating costs.”

“What operating costs?”

She didn’t answer.

Luca read the description beside the largest transfer.

Then he read it again.

“Household transition holding account.”

He looked at Vanessa.

“Whose account is that?”

She swallowed.

“Hearthbridge administers the payments.”

Luca turned the statement toward her.

“Then why is your personal authorization attached to every transfer?”

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