Chapter 3 - THE PHOTOGRAPH
The door opened. Rafael stood there, a ring of master keys in his hand.
“Supply closet closes at nine.”
Isabela pointed to the clean towels stacked beside her. “Then somebody should tell the laundry.”
Rafael did not smile. “Mr. Montenegro wants to see you.”
“Now?”
“Now.”
Dante was waiting in his office, Rafael’s personnel file open on his desk. Isabela sat without being invited.
“Your application says you grew up in Campinas,” Dante said.
“I did.”
“It says your mother’s name was Marisa Costa.”
“It was.”
“And it leaves your father blank.”
“That isn’t an error.”
Dante closed the folder. “Why this job?”
“The agency sent me.”
“You could have refused.”
“I needed the work.”
It was true, though it was only a small part of the truth.
Dante took a photograph from a drawer and slid it across the desk. A younger Helena stood at a garden party beside Dante’s father, Augusto Montenegro. Isabela recognized the dress Helena wore. It was the same one in her own photograph.
“What do you know about my family?” Dante asked.
“Enough to know your mother doesn’t like soup.”
“Isabela.”
The warning in his voice was quiet. That made it worse.
She looked at the photograph on the desk. “My mother worked here a long time ago.”
Dante went still. “Doing what?”
“Laundry. Sewing. Whatever needed doing.”
“Why didn’t you mention it?”
“Because your hiring form didn’t ask where she worked.”
“Is she alive?”
“No.”
He watched her closely. “I’m sorry.”
Isabela almost laughed. She had spent years imagining what it would feel like to stand in this room. She had never imagined Dante offering sympathy.
“She left me a photograph,” Isabela said. “Your mother is in it. I came because I wanted to ask her about it.”
“Show me.”
Before Isabela could answer, a crash came from upstairs.
Rafael’s radio crackled. “Mrs. Montenegro is on the floor. We need the doctor.”
Dante ran.
May you like
Isabela followed and found Helena beside her bed, clutching a small brass key. She caught Isabela’s wrist before anyone could lift her.
“He found it,” Helena whispered. “Augusto found your mother’s letter.”
