Eleven Months Without Being Needed

Chapter 14 - Eleven Months Without Being Needed

Olivia did not visit Luca for the first three months.

She wrote once.

School started.

Accounting is still terrible.

Your old cook sends me soup every Thursday even though I no longer work there.

Mrs. Carter says your replacement house manager is afraid of the silver pantry.

You would enjoy that.

—Olivia

Luca answered.

Accounting was invented by cowards who feared cash.

Tell Mrs. Carter the silver pantry is harmless.

Do not tell the new manager.

—L

Olivia laughed in the campus library.

The correspondence stayed like that.

Small.

No declarations.

No promises.

Luca complained about prison coffee.

Olivia complained about group projects with nineteen-year-olds who believed deadlines were suggestions.

He read a history of Chicago architecture.

She sent him a list of everything the author got wrong about hotel service corridors.

By month five, she visited.

One hour.

Public visiting room.

Luca looked thinner.

Not broken.

Not transformed into a better man by fluorescent lighting.

Just living through consequences.

They talked about school.

The restaurants.

Mrs. Carter’s arthritis.

Daniel’s mother, who had died before his sentencing.

Not romance.

That came later.

Olivia graduated in May.

Thirty years old.

Older than most of the class.

She did not care.

Mrs. Carter cried loudly.

Claire sent flowers.

Daniel sent a card.

Vanessa sent nothing.

That was fine.

Olivia’s degree did not turn her into someone too important to clean a room.

It simply gave her more choices about which rooms she wanted to manage.

She accepted a position at a small luxury hotel in Chicago as assistant operations manager.

The salary was good.

The hours were terrible.

She loved it.

Her first week, a guest screamed at a housekeeper because bath towels had not been replaced by noon.

Olivia listened.

Then said calmly:

“You may speak to me about the service failure. You may not speak to her that way.”

The guest threatened a review.

Olivia gave him her full name.

The housekeeper, Rosa, stared after he left.

“You’re going to get fired.”

“Probably not.”

“You sound very sure.”

Olivia smiled.

“I’ve worked for scarier men.”

Six months later, she proposed a new employee emergency fund.

Transportation.

Medical deductibles.

Temporary housing after domestic violence.

Tuition help.

The hotel owner liked the idea until he saw the cost.

Olivia funded the first year herself.

Not all of it.

One hundred fifty thousand from Diane’s trust.

The amount still made her hands shake.

She kept the rest.

Savings.

Retirement.

A down payment for a condo.

That decision mattered as much as the fund.

Diane had taught generosity until it became self-erasure.

Olivia chose differently.

She helped people without making poverty proof of virtue.

On the anniversary of Diane’s death, Olivia visited the cemetery.

She brought no flowers.

Her mother had hated cut flowers.

“They die twice,” Diane used to say.

Olivia sat on the grass.

“I found the money.”

Wind moved through the trees.

“You should have kept more.”

Her eyes filled.

“I know why you didn’t.”

A pause.

“I’m still mad.”

She laughed softly.

“Apparently that doesn’t mean I love you less.”

When Luca was released after eleven months, Olivia knew the date.

She did not go.

Neither did Mrs. Carter.

Luca had asked for no crowd.

Daniel drove him.

That surprised Olivia.

Perhaps not.

People did not need to become innocent to become part of a life again.

A week passed.

Luca did not call.

Two weeks.

Nothing.

Olivia became irritated.

Then irritated at herself for being irritated.

On day seventeen, a card arrived at the hotel.

No flowers.

No jewelry.

Plain white envelope.

Olivia—

I said I would not assume eleven months meant you still wanted what might have existed before.

If you want coffee, call me.

If you do not, I will leave you alone.

Luca

At the bottom, in smaller handwriting:

I still take it black. I assume your standards remain questionable.

Olivia laughed in the loading dock.

Rosa looked at her.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“That is not a nothing face.”

Olivia folded the card.

She waited three days.

Not to punish him.

To make sure the answer belonged to her.

Then she called.

“Saturday.”

Luca was quiet.

“Saturday.”

“Ten.”

“Yes.”

“Public place.”

“Of course.”

“No security table beside us.”

A pause.

“Define beside.”

She laughed.

“Luca.”

“All right.”

“Coffee only.”

“Yes.”

“And if you send a car—”

“I won’t.”

“Good.”

Saturday arrived cold and bright.

Olivia walked into a small café near Lincoln Park.

Luca sat near the window.

No black suit.

Dark sweater.

Gray at his temples she had not noticed before.

No entourage.

He stood when she approached.

For one strange second, Olivia remembered the engagement dinner.

Silver platter.

Hair over one eye.

Seventy-four dollars.

Vanessa answering before she could speak.

Everything that followed had begun because Luca noticed one bruise.

Now there was no bruise.

No apron.

No engagement ring on anyone’s hand.

“Hi,” Luca said.

“Hi.”

They sat.

He did not order for her.

Progress.

“How is work?”

She smiled.

“Which answer do you want?”

“The real one.”

“Exhausting.”

“Good.”

She laughed.

“What?”

“You used to say needing work made exhaustion irrelevant.”

“I was broke.”

“You are not now.”

“No.”

“How does that feel?”

Olivia considered.

“Quieter.”

He understood.

Money did not make life happy.

It lowered the volume of certain fears.

They spoke for two hours.

Not about Carlo.

Not about Adrian.

Not about prison.

Not until the end.

Luca looked at his cup.

“I see a therapist.”

Olivia blinked.

“Voluntarily?”

“Yes.”

“Should I call Mara to verify?”

His mouth moved.

“I missed this.”

Her chest tightened.

“Me insulting you?”

“You being unimpressed.”

Silence.

Then Luca looked directly at her.

“Would you have dinner with me?”

Olivia’s pulse moved.

“This is coffee.”

“I know.”

“Coffee went well.”

“I thought so.”

“You are asking for a second interview.”

“If that makes you comfortable.”

She smiled.

“Dinner.”

“Yes.”

“Not at one of your restaurants.”

“Cruel.”

“Not private.”

“Fine.”

“And you do not have someone run a background check on the restaurant owner.”

Luca looked almost offended.

“I already know him.”

“Then different restaurant.”

He laughed.

A real laugh.

Olivia realized she had never heard it before.

“Fine.”

They chose Thursday.

When Olivia left, Luca remained at the table.

No car followed her.

No guard appeared.

No gift arrived.

It should not have felt romantic.

It did.

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