Chapter 4 - The Fire at Blackwood
The next morning, the mansion woke up to the sound of telephones ringing in the front office.
Sadie was down in the basement laundry room, ironing crisp white sheets, when Evelyn walked in carrying a stack of ledgers. The older woman looked more tired than usual, dark circles beneath her eyes like purple bruises.
"The Castiglione family called twice this morning," Evelyn said, leaning against the folding table. "They want a meeting with Roman. They think because he hasn't been seen in public for four years, he's dying."
Sadie continued smoothing the iron over the cotton. "Is he?"
Evelyn let out a bitter laugh. "Roman Vale won't die until hell opens up and drags him down personally. But his absence is causing problems. The family in New York is getting restless. They want proof he's still running Chicago, or they're going to split the docks between the Castigliones and the Morettis."
Sadie set the iron upright on its heel. "What happened four years ago, Mrs. Burke?"
Evelyn’s face hardened immediately. "You don't ask about the fire."
"Every paper in Illinois wrote about it," Sadie said quietly, looking up into Evelyn's eyes. "The Blackwood Manor arson. Four years ago, November twelfth. Roman Vale was trapped inside the east wing for forty minutes before his men cut him out. They said his fiancee died in the blaze."
Evelyn took a sharp breath. "The papers write whatever Roman pays them to write. The truth of that night stays in this house."
"His fiancee's name was Clara Vance," Sadie continued, her voice soft, steady, and devoid of fear. "She was twenty-two. A pianist from the North Side. Her body was never found in the ash."
Evelyn stepped forward, grabbing Sadie’s wrist with surprising strength. "Listen to me, girl. You seem smart, and you aren't jumpy like the rest of them. But if you start digging into Clara Vance around Roman, he won't just fire you. He’ll put you in the ground. He built that locked wing because he can't bear the light, and he can't bear the memory. Leave it alone."
Sadie didn't pull her arm away. She simply looked down at Evelyn's fingers on her skin until the older woman slowly released her grip.
"I'm not digging, Mrs. Burke," Sadie said quietly. "I just know what it feels like to lose a home in a fire."
Evelyn searched Sadie’s face, a flicker of doubt crossing her hardened features. Before she could speak again, the house intercom buzzed on the wall.
BZZZT.
"Evelyn," Roman's voice rasped through the small speaker, distorted by static. "Send the new girl up with the morning papers and my tea. Alone."
May you like
Evelyn stared at the speaker, then looked back at Sadie with a mixture of dread and awe. "He hasn't let anyone into his room during daylight in three years."
Sadie folded the sheet neatly and set it on the stack. "I'll get the tray."
