Excerpt: Lady

3rd Excerpt:

“This is for you.”
Irene stopped in the hall. For her?
It was the Mister’s box of writing paper. She’d seen him leave unfinished letters on his desk with this paper. He’d left blue envelopes on the silver tray near the condo’s entrance. Lady was the one who stamped things. He’d used the same paper for as long as she’d worked here, and that was fourteen years.
“I wanted to give you a little something for being so much help.” Lena’s head titling up to the sick room.
Irene stepped back, her heel bumping against the floorboard. It made a loud sound between them. It was her job. It wasn’t help. Irene looked down, she’d have to clean that scuff mark next time she came, on Monday. But Lady wasn’t seeing the scuff mark, she stood there, with her hands still outstretched, waiting for Irene to take the heavy blue box. Irene saw how it was too much for Lady’s thin fingers as the box slipped from her trembling hands into Irene’s.
Glancing down the hallway to his office. Irene took it into her own hands, not knowing how to stand now, with her sudden possession. Now the box was in her hands and Lady was holding her arms across her middle like she was facing into a heavy wind on the pier.
“Thank you.” Lady said, “For—” her words stopped. Irene ducked her head even farther down.
She wanted to touch Lady’s arm, give the box back, but she stood, nodding and stepping back, avoiding the wall, keeping her eyes down.

With Lena's repeated “Thank you.” Irene slipped towards the condo’s door and stood on the threshold. “It wasn’t work.” She said, almost too low for Lena to make out the words, “The nights. I would do it for nothing. Because he’s your Mister.”

Irene noted how heavy the box was in her arms, held up to her chest and listened for the click of the shutting door, which didn’t click. Irene knew if she turned to see why she might make Lady cry. She stood where she was. Frozen. Waiting for the sound that would release her feet. In all the time she cleaned The Mister’s office, she’d picked up this box from his desk weekly, month and year after month and year. Sometimes it was heavy, sometimes not. She just dusted around it and every other thing on that desk.
Lena finally shut the door behind her.
Outside the condo, Irene stood and carefully slipped the box into her carry bag. Maybe she’d give it to her mother; then she could tell her father it had come from some house in Malibu, where one of her hermanas worked. He’d believe that. If all the girls kept quiet and her mother’s eyes didn’t show too much worry giving it to him. Irene would know she’d given him a birthday present he wouldn’t throw away.