It might have been better for the three of us—Beatrice, Teresa and me—to have busied ourselves with the wake and the funeral and the reception afterward. As it was, with nothing to do, we were left to our own thoughts. I couldn’t bring myself to cry, although my heart was breaking. I thought of how the old Nora would have behaved. She would have worried about herself first. She’d have been spitting mad about the money she’d never get now, and the fact that she’d have to find another place to live and complain about how she didn’t deserve this. Had I really changed so much in less than a year? I knew in my heart the change in me was in answer to what Mrs. Shaw gave me. When you’re given love, it seemed, you respond with love. What would happen now that Mrs. Shaw was gone?

It took that bastard, Sinclair, only three days after Mrs. Shaw’s funeral to show up at the house and hammer on the door.

I refused to be afraid of him. “What do you want?” I cried. “Sure, the poor woman’s not even cold. Where’s your respect?”

He sneered down at me and shoved me back inside the hallway. “I’ve come to collect my inheritance,” he said. He waved his arm around. “All of this is now mine, Miss Nora Sweeney, and if you ever had any thoughts of getting your grasping little fingers on any of it, you can forget it.”

I wanted to claw the eyes out of him. He pushed on past me and went into the kitchen. Beatrice stood wide-eyed, while Teresa tried to fold herself into a corner. He banged his fist on the table.

“You two,” he said, “you work for me now, and I will tolerate no slacking. I have also discovered from the financial records that your wages are excessive. You will take a cut in pay and improve your work habits, or you can leave. I will give you to the end of the week to decide.”

He swung around to look at me. I stood glaring at him with my arms folded. I stood within easy reach of the kitchen knives. If this feller made a move toward me, I was ready to swing for him. He must have sensed the danger, for he backed up a couple of paces.

“You,” he said, “you have no such options. You’ll go and pack your things this minute and get out of my house.”

I stood my ground, while Beatrice began praying aloud. As I stared at him, I believed I was looking at the Divil himself. How could I ever have thought I was in love with this man? A cold shiver ran through me, as if somebody was walking on my grave, and I knew I had to get away from him as quickly as I could.