Page 85 of The Widower
“Madame!”
“Stop calling me that, Tito!” I said, trying not to laugh at Colin’s main driver. “You just love teasing me, don’t you?” I couldn’t help but chuckle afterward.
Tito grinned wide, then kept driving toward Colin’s mansion.
“I’m just a normal person. Even if I tried, I could never be like those high-society women.”
“Good thing,” he said.“Most of them are unbearable. I’ve driven a few before and... well, better not say anything.I’d like to keep my job.”
“Oh no, now you’ve made me curious.”
“It’s just little things,” he said with a sigh. “Like having the AC set to exactly 72.5 degrees—not 72, not 73. Or cracking the window exactly four inches in the front. Driving strictly between 22 and 25 miles per hour—no faster, no slower. That kind of nonsense.”
“That’s ridiculous!” I said, outraged. “How can people be like that?”
“You wouldn’t believe half the stuff us drivers go through...”
We kept chatting the whole way. Tito was such a cheerful man—it was obvious he loved his job. He’d been the second employee Colin ever hired, right after Helen.
When we finally got to the mansion, I finished my morning chores and got ready to take Joshua to school.
“Ready?” I asked.
“Yeah.”
Joshua seemed different today—happier, somehow. I didn’t know if it was because he’d seen Hanna or something else had happened, but I didn’t want to pry into a child’s thoughts.
“You know,” he said suddenly, catching me off guard, “my dad came into my room last night.”
“Really?”
“Uh-huh. He stayed there for a while, but I pretended to be asleep.”
“Why’d you do that?”
“I don’t know.I could tell he was looking at me... and at the ceiling.Sometimes I opened one eye, and he was staring at my toys. Then, when he left, he kissed my cheek and said he loved me.”
I hadn’t expected to hear that.Not like this.
I was speechless. That simple gesture told me Colin was fighting his fears—slowly, quietly—and finding his way back to Joshua.
“Give your dad a chance, Joshua. He went through a lot when your mom and sister passed away. I know you’re sad too, and some days must feel heavy, but he’s hurting as well. I’m sure he misses you just as much as you miss him.”
“Okay, Aunt Isabelle.”
Great.Now I was Aunt Isabelle.
I smiled. Fair enough.
“Can I really call you that?”
“Of course. Hanna calls your dad Uncle Colin, so I don’t see the problem.”
We both laughed, and the rest of the ride to school was much lighter—and happier—than I’d expected.
The morning flew by, and after picking Joshua up from school, I headed to the kitchen to help Helen with lunch—Jeanne was sick and hadn’t come in to work.
“Colin’s different today,” Helen said out of nowhere.
