Ms. Monroe arrived forty minutes early in a sleek black sedan that rolled up to the front steps like it belonged there. Eleanor transformed instantly, dropping the household tyranny and putting on the smile of a gracious hostess.
“Elvira, what a lovely surprise. What an honor. Please, come in. We’re all ready for you.”
“Good evening, Eleanor,” Ms. Monroe said with the cool politeness of someone used to being received everywhere.
She carried a structured leather handbag with gold hardware on her arm as casually as if it were part of her outfit and not worth more than some people’s monthly mortgage.
“And this is our little domestic helper,” Eleanor said, gesturing toward Regina the way someone might point out a decorative lamp. “My son’s wife. She’ll bring in the tea. Regina, kitchen.”
“It’s very nice to meet you, Ms. Monroe,” Regina said, dipping her head politely. “Tea will be ready in five minutes.”
“Thank you, dear,” Ms. Monroe said, with more warmth than Regina expected, and walked into the living room, where she sat on the sofa and placed her handbag beside her.
Regina paused in the doorway for one brief second—long enough to notice that the clasp on the bag hadn’t fully caught. The opening sat slightly ajar.
Her heart gave one hard thump. The plan sharpened instantly.
She went into the kitchen, where Agnes was already setting out the good china with the care of someone handling family history.
“Agnes, what do you think?” Regina asked as she poured the hot water over the chamomile. “Does this city woman look down on us, or is that just me?”
“She’s a big deal, sure, but her eyes are sharp,” Agnes said, glancing toward the door. “Don’t try anything sloppy around that one. Just carry the tray steady. You’re the only person in this house acting like a grown-up.”
“Thanks, Agnes. That helps more than you know.”
“Go on now, before Eleanor flatters that woman into a sugar crash.”
Regina carried the tray into the living room with steady hands and began setting down the cups with a calm pace Eleanor mistook for meekness and Ms. Monroe seemed to read as good manners.
“What a lovely aroma,” Ms. Monroe said, lifting the cup and breathing in the steam. “This isn’t the usual tea bag dust people serve.”
“It’s my own blend,” Regina said. “I gather the herbs in summer and dry them properly so they keep their color and flavor.”
“Wonderful. Truly wonderful. Eleanor, your daughter-in-law has excellent taste,” Ms. Monroe said, and something in her tone made Eleanor’s smile tighten.
