THE TWO HOURS HE COULDN'T GIVE

"**“TAKE OFF THAT BLACK RIBBON! NOBODY CAME TO MY ENGAGEMENT DINNER TO MOURN YOUR DEAD FATHER!” THE MAFIA BOSS'S FIANCÉE HUMILIATED HIS 27-YEAR-OLD MAID IN FRONT OF THIRTY GUESTS—BUT WHEN LUCA HEARD ME WHISPER, “I ONLY ASKED FOR TWO HOURS TO BURY HIM,” HE SLOWLY PUT DOWN HIS GLASS.**

“Remove it, Claire.”

Vanessa Bellini pointed toward the little black ribbon pinned above my white apron.

Thirty guests sat beneath the chandeliers of the Moretti family's historic Italian restaurant in Chicago.

“Mrs. Bellini, please. My father passed away on Tuesday.”

“And I'm sorry about that. But tonight is supposed to be a happy occasion.”

I lowered my eyes.

“I understand, ma'am.”

“Then stop making everyone uncomfortable.”

I reached toward the ribbon.

But my fingers wouldn't move.

My name is Claire Bennett.

I'm twenty-seven, and I've worked as a housemaid for Luca Moretti's family for fourteen months.

My father was sixty-four when he died.

He'd spent thirty-eight years repairing elevators in downtown Chicago.

He never made much money.

But every winter, he checked my tires, filled my windshield washer fluid, and reminded me to keep a blanket in the trunk.

Even after I turned twenty-seven.

Even after I told him I could take care of myself.

“That's my job, peanut,” he'd say.

He called me peanut until the day he died.

His funeral was tomorrow morning.

And I wasn't sure I'd be allowed to attend.

Three weeks earlier, I'd requested the day off.

Vanessa had approved it.

But when my father died, she changed her mind.

She said the restaurant needed extra staff for the weekend's wedding preparations.

And if I didn't show up, I shouldn't expect to have a job on Monday.

I needed that job.

My mother had never worked outside the home.

Dad had been the one who paid the bills.

And the funeral expenses had already taken nearly everything we had saved.

So I came to work.

Wearing the little black ribbon my mother had given me.

“Claire!”

Vanessa snapped her fingers.

“I'm not asking again.”

I swallowed.

“Could I please keep it on until the end of dinner?”

She laughed.

“Your father isn't going to know whether you're wearing it.”

Something inside me broke.

I looked at the white tablecloth.

The crystal glasses.

The smiling guests.

And whispered, “I know, ma'am.”

Vanessa folded her arms.

“Then stop behaving like you're the only person who's ever lost somebody.”

I slowly unpinned the ribbon.

But before I could put it away, a man's voice interrupted.

“Claire?”

Luca Moretti had stopped speaking to his uncle.

Thirty-six years old.

Dark swept-back hair.

Black three-piece suit, tattoos visible along his neck and hands.

He looked at the ribbon in my palm.

Then at my face.

“What's happened?”

Before I could answer, Vanessa smiled.

“Darling, Claire's father passed away earlier this week. She's having a difficult evening, so I suggested she take a few minutes to collect herself.”

Luca's expression changed.

“Your father died?”

I nodded.

“Tuesday, sir.”

He slowly set down his champagne glass.

“Claire, why didn't anyone tell me?”

I looked toward Vanessa.

“She said you were busy preparing for the engagement.”

Luca stood.

Then walked around the table.

“I'm sorry.”

His voice was quiet.

“Was he sick?”

“For a little while, sir.”

“Were you able to spend time with him?”

My eyes filled.

“Not as much as I wanted.”

Luca pulled out a chair.

“Sit down for a minute.”

Vanessa immediately interrupted.

“Luca, we're in the middle of dinner.”

He looked at her.

“And Claire's father just died.”

“She still has responsibilities.”

He didn't answer.

Instead, he looked back at me.

“When's the funeral?”

My throat tightened.

“Tomorrow morning.”

He frowned.

“Then why are you working tonight?”

I hesitated.

“Because I need the hours.”

Luca nodded.

“I understand. But you should be home with your family.”

I couldn't speak.

He noticed.

“Claire?”

My hands began trembling.

“Sir, I was wondering if I could leave tomorrow morning. Just for a couple of hours.”

Luca stared at me.

“Leave?”

I nodded.

“For the service.”

His expression changed.

“You're asking permission to attend your father's funeral?”

Vanessa sighed.

“Luca, we've already discussed this. Claire was scheduled to work tomorrow.”

He slowly turned.

“Tomorrow?”

“Yes. We have a bridal luncheon to prepare.”

Luca looked back at me.

“Claire, did you request time off?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Was it approved?”

I nodded.

“Three weeks ago.”

He turned toward Vanessa.

“Then why is she scheduled?”

Vanessa folded her arms.

“Because circumstances changed.”

Luca was silent for several seconds.

Then asked quietly, “Whose circumstances?”

She blinked.

“What?”

“Claire's father died. That's a pretty significant change in her circumstances.”

Vanessa looked irritated.

“Luca, we cannot rearrange an entire event because one employee has personal problems.”

My eyes filled again.

“Please, sir. I can come back immediately after.”

Luca turned toward me.

“Claire, look at me.”

I did.

“You don't have to come back after the funeral.”

My breath caught.

“You can take the day. You'll be paid.”

Vanessa pushed back her chair.

“Absolutely not!”

Thirty guests went silent.

Luca slowly looked toward her.

“Excuse me?”

“You cannot keep letting the staff take advantage of your generosity.”

He stared at her.

Then asked something I hadn't expected.

“Vanessa, when your grandmother died last year, how many days did we cancel our plans?”

She hesitated.

“That's different.”

“How?”

“She was family.”

Luca looked at me.

Then back at his fiancée.

“Claire's father was her family.”

Vanessa said nothing.

Luca gently placed the black ribbon back in my hand.

“You can wear this as long as you need.”

I started crying.

“Thank you, sir.”

He pulled me into a brief hug.

And for a moment, I felt like I could finally breathe.

But then the restaurant manager, Marco, spoke from beside the service station.

“Mr. Moretti, may I say something?”

Luca turned.

“Of course.”

Marco hesitated.

“I offered to cover Claire's shift tomorrow.”

Vanessa's head turned sharply.

“Marco.”

But he continued.

“Mrs. Bellini told me not to.”

Luca went still.

“You offered?”

“Yes, boss. We have enough staff.”

He looked toward Vanessa.

“Then why did you tell Claire she'd lose her job?”

She stared at the tablecloth.

“I needed to know I could depend on her.”

Luca's expression hardened.

“You decided to test her loyalty on the day she's supposed to bury her father?”

Vanessa looked away.

I thought the worst was over.

Then Luca noticed the folded piece of paper sticking out of my apron pocket.

“Claire, what's that?”

I hesitated.

“The funeral program, sir. My mother sent me the final copy this afternoon.”

He held out his hand.

“May I?”

I gave it to him.

On the cover was a photograph of Dad standing beside his old pickup truck.

Smiling.

Wearing the brown jacket he'd owned for twenty years.

Luca studied it.

Then looked at me.

“He looks like a good man.”

I nodded.

“He was.”

My voice broke.

“He always told me that no matter how busy life got, family was worth showing up for.”

Luca's eyes filled.

Then he asked, “Does your mother know you're coming tomorrow?”

I looked down.

“No, sir.”

He frowned.

“Why not?”

“Because I told her I might have to work.”

For several seconds, he didn't move.

Then he asked quietly, “What did she say?”

I swallowed.

“She told me Dad would understand.”

Tears slipped down my cheeks.

“But then she asked if I could at least come before they closed the casket.”

Luca covered his mouth.

I watched him struggle to speak.

Then he gently took my hand.

“Claire, your mother will not bury your father without you.”

Vanessa suddenly stood.

“Luca, enough! You're ruining our engagement dinner over a maid!”

He turned toward her.

His eyes were wet.

But his voice was steady.

“No, Vanessa. I'm finding out who you are.”

The entire dining room fell silent.

She stared at him.

“What's that supposed to mean?”

Luca glanced at the diamond engagement ring on her finger.

Then at my father's photograph.

“My father taught me that the way you treat people who can't do anything for you tells me everything I need to know about your character.”

Vanessa's face reddened.

“Are you seriously questioning our marriage because of this?”

Luca didn't answer immediately.

Instead, he looked toward the thirty guests waiting silently around the table.

Then he pulled out the chair beside him.

“Claire, please sit down.”

I hesitated.

“Sir, I should finish serving.”

“No. You've done enough tonight.”

Vanessa began shaking her head.

“Luca, you're not putting the maid at our table.”

He looked directly at her.

“You asked this woman to choose between feeding her family and saying goodbye to her father.”

Then he pulled out a second chair.

One beside Vanessa.

“Now I'm asking you to sit down and explain why you thought that was an acceptable choice.”

Vanessa looked toward her friends.

Nobody spoke.

And when she finally sat down, Luca asked one last question.

“Vanessa, when I stand beside you on our wedding day, how am I supposed to promise to love and honor a woman who couldn't give another daughter two hours to bury her father?”

I looked at the photograph in my hands.

Then at the diamond ring still sparkling on Vanessa's finger.