“No, I’m fine where I am,” Joanna said, settling in against her pillow. “My father ate up here. So can I.”

“Please?”

“What’s the point?”

“Sorry?”

“What’s the point of me eating down there? It’s not like you can see me or…or we even talk,” Joanna said as she rolled on her side, once again putting her back to Addison. “If I’m going to be lonely, it may as well be in an empty room.”

Addison let out a sigh and got to her feet. Fran’s suggestion echoed in her head, and she knew there were more words she could say, but to speak them was impossible. Leaving the room, she headed downstairs.

Reaching the entrance hall, Addison grabbed her attaché from the table and marched toward the front door, but as she passed the dining room, she came to a stop. She stood there, remembering Joanna’s words, but as she was about to open the pocket doors she heard a noise behind her. Turning around, Addison saw a member of the staff coming out of the study carrying cleaning supplies.

“You,” Addison said. “Come here.”

Stuttering to a stop, Iris’ eyes bulged. “M-M-Me, miss?” she squeaked.

“Do you see anyone else around?”

“Um…no, miss.”

“Then come here.”

Iris forced herself to take a step and then another, eventually finding herself standing in the shadow of her employer.

Addison slid the doors apart and pointed into the room. “Do you see that?”

Wide-eyed, Iris set her bucket on the floor and then looked to where Addison was pointing. “The table miss?”

Addison folded her arms as she stared blankly back at the maid. “No, not the table,” she said as calmly as her anger would allow. “The bloody candelabra.”

“The candle...what?”

“The centerpiece. Do you see the bloody centerpiece?”

“Oh, yes, miss,” Iris said, smiling like she had won a prize. “Kinda hard not to, innit?”

“Exactly my point, which is why I want you to...” Addison stopped long enough to size up the twig of a woman standing next to her. “...which is why I want you to find someone to remove it.”

“Where would you like it put?”

Addison was tempted to answer with a flippant response, but holding onto her temper, she said, “I don’t care where you put it. Take it home. Give it away. Bury it in the garden or use it as a ship’s anchor. I don’t care. I just want it gone. Can you do that?”

“Oh, yes, miss. Of course.”

“Good,” Addison said, checking her watch.

Believing the conversation to be over, Iris went about gathering her bucket and rags, but before she took a step, Addison spoke again.

“One more thing.”

“Yes, miss?”