Chapter 9 - EVERY SUNDAY
Hannah left Harrow Point in January.
Poppy protested by hiding one shoe.
The shoe was eventually found inside Victor’s library behind the cold fireplace.
Nobody admitted responsibility.
Three months later, Hannah completed her first certification block.
Victor knew because Poppy sent him a voice message from Hannah’s phone:
“Mr. Victor! Mama passed!”
Hannah followed immediately:
“She stole my phone.”
Victor replied:
“I believe the criminal pattern is established.”
Poppy sent:
“No jail.”
Correct.
Hannah took a facilities coordinator job at an independent hotel.
Not Castellano-owned.
She checked.
Victor pretended insult.
For six months, they saw each other occasionally.
Sunday lunches.
Poppy visits with Hannah present.
Trips to a public aquarium.
No staff relationship.
No debt.
No dependency.
Victor did not ask Hannah out.
Marcus asked why.
Victor stared at him.
“Because she spent years being an employee in my house.”
“So?”
Victor looked disappointed.
“You're supposed to be smarter than I am.”
Marcus considered.
“Fair.”
Then six months passed.
Victor called.
“Hannah.”
“Yes?”
“Would you have dinner with me Friday?”
Pause.
“Poppy included?”
“No.”
Longer pause.
“Oh.”
Victor suddenly understood terror.
Then Hannah said:
“Why?”
“Because I like you.”
“And?”
“Because I have been deliberately waiting until your life had nothing financially connected to mine.”
Silence.
Then:
“Rachel coached you?”
“No.”
“Marcus?”
“Absolutely not.”
She laughed.
“Seven-thirty.”
Their first date took place in Baltimore.
Small restaurant.
Victor did not own it.
Hannah checked.
He accepted the humiliation.
They talked about Evan.
Victor did not compete with a dead husband.
Important.
Hannah said:
“He would have liked Poppy to remember him.”
“She does?”
“A little.”
Three-year-olds remember feelings more than biographies.
They kept photographs.
Stories.
A recording of Evan singing badly.
Victor listened once later.
Terrible.
Beautiful.
Then Hannah asked about Elena.
Victor told her something nobody knew.
“She cheated at Scrabble.”
Hannah stared.
“The late Mrs. Castellano?”
“Ruthlessly.”
“Evidence?”
“None.”
“Then that's a serious accusation.”
He smiled.
Leo loved dinosaurs.
Hated peas.
Could not whistle.
Hannah listened.
No one replaced anyone.
The dead became people again instead of wounds.
At the end, Victor asked:
“Can I kiss you?”
Hannah smiled.
“You ask now.”
“I’ve received substantial criticism.”
“Good.”
“Yes?”
“Yes.”
A quiet kiss.
No rain.
No black cars.
No emergency gates.
May you like
Ordinary.
Victor had never understood how valuable ordinary could become.
