She sighs. Tears spring to her eyes. “There are so many reasons a heart can stop beating.”
I feel a lump in my throat. I think of Gran, of her good heart and how it came to a stop.
“Will you continue to stay at the hotel while you wait for the reports?” I ask.
“I don’t have much choice. I’ve got nowhere else to go. And I can barely step outside of the hotel without being mobbed by reporters. I don’t own any property. I’ve got nothing that’s mine and only mine, Molly. Not even a crappy apartment like this.” She winces. “Sorry. See? You’re not the only one who steps in it from time to time.”
“That’s quite all right. I take no offense.”
She reaches out and puts a hand on my knee. “Molly,” she says, “I won’t know what Charles’s will says for a while. Which means I won’t know what becomes of me for a while. Until then, I’ll stay at the hotel. At least there, the bill is already paid.”
She pauses, looks at me. “Will you look after me? At the hotel, I mean. Will you be my maid? Sunitha is nice and all, but it’s not the same. You’re like a sister to me, you know that? A sister who sometimes says crazy shit and likes dusting way too much, but a sister nonetheless.”
I’m flattered that Giselle thinks of me in such a positive light, that she sees past what others don’t, that she sees me as…family.
“I’d be honored to look after you,” I say. “If Mr. Snow is fine with it.”
“Great. I’ll tell him when I go back.” She stands, walks to the door, and grabs her yellow purse. She brings it to the sofa and takes out a stack of bills—a stack that looks all too familiar. She flicks off two crisp hundred-dollar bills and places them on Gran’s silver tea tray.
“For you,” she says. “You earned it.”
“What? This is a lot of money, Giselle.”
“I never tipped you yesterday. Consider this your tip.”
“But I never finished cleaning the suite yesterday.”
“That’s not your fault. You just keep that. And let’s pretend this conversation never happened.”
I, for one, will never be able to forget this conversation, but I don’t say that out loud.
She stands and turns to the door, but then stops and faces me. “One more thing, Molly. I’ve got a favor to ask of you.”
I immediately wonder if this will involve ironing or laundry, so I’m surprised by what comes next.
“Do you think you might be able to get into our suite still? It’s cordoned off right now. But I left something in there, something I desperately need back. I tucked it up in the bathroom fan.”
That explains it, the clunky sound I heard yesterday when she was in the bathroom, showering.
“What is it you want me to retrieve?”
“My gun,” she says, her voice neutral and calm. “I’m at risk, Molly. I’m vulnerable now that Mr. Black is gone. Everyone wants a piece of me. I need protection.”
“I see,” I reply. But in truth, this request produces raging anxiety. I feel my throat closing. I feel the world tilt around me. I think of Mr. Snow’s advice—“When a guest asks for something above and beyond, consider it a challenge. Don’t dismiss it. Rise to meet it!”
“I’ll do my best,” I say, but the words catch. “To retrieve your…item.” I stand in front of her, at attention.
“Bless your heart, Molly Maid,” she says, throwing her arms around me again. “Don’t believe what anyone says. You’re not a freak. Or a robot. And I’ll never forget this as long as I live. You’ll see. I swear, I won’t forget.”
She rushes over to the front door, retrieves her glossy high heels from the closet, and slips them on. She’s left her teacup behind on the table rather than carrying it to the kitchen as Gran would have. She has not, however, forgotten her yellow purse, which she slings over her shoulder. She opens my front door, blows me a kiss, and waves goodbye.
A thought occurs to me.
“Wait,” I say. She’s down the hall, nearly at the stairs. “Giselle, how did you know where to find me? How did you get my home address?”
She turns around. “Oh,” she says. “Someone at the hotel gave it to me.”
“Who?” I ask.
She squints. “Hmm… Can’t quite remember. But don’t worry. I won’t bug you all the time or anything. And thanks, Molly. For the tea. For the talk. For being you.”