She crossed herself, then took a hesitant step forward. “Whose flat is this?”
“Mine and Maggie’s.” She stepped aside, and Maggie waved.
“Hi. I’m Maggie.”
Maryanne’s confusion sharpened into something closer to alarm. “Mija, what is going on? Did you rob a bank?”
Daisy laughed, a real laugh that loosened something in her chest. “Nothing like that, I promise.” She led Maryanne to the set table and pulled out a chair. “But I have a lot to tell you.”
And a great deal she could never share.
“Wine?”
Maryanne nodded. “Yes.”
Daisy poured as Maggie quietly ladled braised chicken into their bowls. They passed the bread in silence.
“This is your mother’s recipe.”
Daisy smiled, warm and tender, the way she always did whenever anyone remembered her mum. “Yes, it is.” Unfortunately, Daisy was too nervous to eat. “There’s something I need to tell you, and I need you to hear me out before you react.”
Maryanne’s hand stilled on her wine glass.
It was easier if she just blurted it out. “I’m not going back to work.”
The silence lasted exactly two seconds before Maryanne erupted. “¿Qué? No, no, no. Daisy, you need that job. You need the income, you need the structure, you need the—” She switched into rapid Spanish, her hands moving in sharp, emphatic gestures that made the wine in her glass tilt dangerously. She set it down and frowned. “Your mother did not raise you to be irresponsible.”
“I’m not being irresponsible,” Daisy said firmly. “I promise. Everything is okay.”
“How?” The single word landed heavily with sharp skepticism. “You can’t afford a place like this on what you make. I should know.”
Daisy exhaled and reached beneath her dinner plate, withdrawing a folded slip of paper. She slid it across the table but kept her finger planted on top. “I have something for you. But I need you to trust me.”
She looked at Daisy with that maternal eye roll that told her she was on thin ice. “Of course, I trust you. You’re like a second daughter to me.”
She lifted her finger and gestured to the check. “Open it. It’s for you.”
Maryanne unfolded the check as if it were a utility bill. Her eyes moved across the printed line, and her entire body went still.
“Dios mío.” The fervent words left her mouth as the check fluttered to the floor. “Daisy, what have you done?”
She retrieved the check and handed it back to her. “It’s for you.”
“I can’t take that.” She wouldn’t even touch it. “How do you even have it?”
“Yes, you can.” Daisy set it on the table. “And I can’t tell you?—”
“One hundred thousand pounds!” She pushed the check toward Daisy with both hands, her fingers trembling. “This is dirty money. What have you gotten yourself into? Are you in trouble?”
“It’s not dirty money, Maryanne. It’s my money. And there’s a lot more than that.”
“Money does not fall from the sky?—”
“Sometimes it does,” Maggie chimed in, earning a sharp look from Maryanne.
She turned and lowered her voice, as if she was no longer comfortable speaking in front of an audience. “Listen to me, mija, you get your things, and I will get you out of here?—”
“Maryanne, I say this with love and respect. If you don’t accept my gift, I’ll never believe you trust me again.” She took her hands and squeezed. “I can’t tell you where it came from. I wish I could, but I can’t, and that will never change. But I swear to you on my mother’s honor that this money is legally mine, and I want you to have it.”
