I didn’t know what else to say. My feet turned to stone as they do when I’m nervous. “You best be going,” I eventually said. “Please don’t let me delay you.” I offered a slight curtsy.
“And what will you do? When I’m gone?”
“I’ll do what I always do. I’ll clean everything up. I’ll take away my water glass. I’ll wipe down the front doorknob and the bureau. I’ll polish the faucet in the bathroom. I’ll put that pillow on the floor in my laundry hamper. It will be cleaned in the basement and returned to another room in a state of perfection. No one will ever know it was here.”
“Just like me?”
“Yes,” I said. “And after I’ve returned those few areas of the suite to a state of perfection, I’ll call Reception again and reiterate my urgent request for help.”
“You never saw me,” she said.
“And you never saw me,” I replied.
She left then. She simply walked out of the bedroom and out the front door of the suite. I didn’t move until I heard the front door click behind her.
That was the last time I saw Mrs. Black, the first Mrs. Black. Or didn’t see her. So much depends on your point of view.
Once she was gone, I cleaned things up as I said I would. I put the pillow she left behind into the laundry hamper in my trolley. I called down to Reception, for the second time, once I fully regained consciousness, just like I said in court. And at long last, a few minutes later, help arrived.
I sleep well at night now, perhaps better than I ever have before because I lie beside Juan Manuel, my dearest friend in all the world. He’s a heavy sleeper, just like Gran was—he falls asleep before his head hits the pillow. We sleep together under Gran’s lone-star quilt because some things are better kept the same, whereas other things are better when they change a little. On the walls around us I’ve taken down Gran’s landscape paintings, replacing them with framed photos of Juan Manuel and me.
I listen to his breathing, like rolling waves—in, out, in. And I count my blessings. There are so many of them it’s daunting. I know my conscience is clean because I make it through fewer and fewer blessings each night before I fall into pleasant dreams. I wake up refreshed and joyful, ready to seize the day.
If all of this has taught me anything, it is this: there’s a power in me I never knew was there. I always knew there was power in my hands—to clean, to wipe away dirt, to scour and disinfect, to set things right. But now I know there’s power elsewhere—in my mind. And in my heart too.
Gran was correct after all. About all of it. About everything.
The longer you live, the more you learn.
People are a mystery that can never be solved.
Life has a way of sorting itself out.
Everything will be okay in the end. If it’s not okay, it’s not the end.
To Jackie
Acknowledgments
It takes a village to publish a book. Thank you to the following extraordinary people in my village:
My visionary, dream-making agent, Madeleine Milburn, and her team at the Madeleine Milburn Literary TV & Film Agency, especially Liane-Louise Smith, Liv Maidment, Giles Milburn, Georgina Simmonds, Georgia McVeigh, Rachel Yeoh, Hannah Ladds, Sophie Péllisier, Emma Dawson, and Anna Hogarty.
My wise, endlessly supportive, and inspiring editors, Hilary Teeman at Penguin Random House U.S., Nicole Winstanley at Penguin Random House Canada, and Charlotte Brabbin at HarperFiction UK. You make everything better.
The many, many publishing champions in markets around the world who are bringing this book to readers.
Special thanks in Canada are owed to Kristin Cochrane, Tonia Addison, Bonnie Maitland, Beth Cockeram, Scott Sellers, and Marion Garner.
And in the U.S. to Caroline Weishuhn, Jennifer Hershey, Kim Hovey, Kara Welsh, Cindy Berman, Erin Korenko, Elena Giavaldi, Paolo Pepe, Jennifer Garza, Susan Corcoran, Quinne Rogers, Taylor Noel, Michelle Jasmine, Virginia Norey, and Debbie Aroff.
And in the UK to Kimberley Young, Kate Elton, Lynne Drew, Isabel Coburn, Sarah Munro, Alice Gomer, Hannah O’Brien, Sarah Shea, Rachel Quinn, Maddy Marshall, Jennifer Harlow, Ben Hurd, Andrew Davis, Claire Ward, and Grace Dent.
The movie magic-makers I’m so lucky to be working with—Josie Freedman and Alyssa Weinberger at ICM Partners, Chris Goldberg at Winterlight Pictures, Jeyun Munford and Christine Sun at Universal Pictures, and Josh McLaughlin at Wink Pictures.
Kevin Hanson and the entire past and present team at Simon & Schuster, especially Sarah St. Pierre, Brendan May, Jessica Scott, Phyllis Bruce, Laurie Grassi, Janie Yoon, Justin Stoller, Jasmine Elliott, Karen Silva, Felicia Quon, Shara Alexa, Sherry Lee, Lorraine Kelly, David Millar, Adria Iwasutiak, Alison Callahan, Jen Bergstrom, and Suzanne Baboneau. You are my people—you are book people. May we always take childlike delight in unboxing first printings and be thrilled by shelf sightings in the wild.
Industry pros and advisors Adrienne Kerr, Marianne Gunn O’Connor, Keith Shier, and Samantha Haywood.
Carolyn Reidy, sorely missed. I’d hoped we could talk about this book because your notes would have been just like you—blunt and brilliant. Wherever you are, I know you’re still reading.
My authors, for teaching me everything I know about writing and for the great privilege of working on your books. Special thanks to Ashley Audrain, Samantha M. Bailey, and Karma Brown for early support when I needed it most.
Adria Iwasutiak, publicist extraordinaire and loyal friend within and beyond publishing.
Jorge Gidi Delgadillo and Sarah Fulton, with love and gratitude for walking with me on an exquisite journey and for sharing a love of story from our very beginnings.
Pat and Feriel Pagni, voracious readers and new family, dear to my heart.
My friends, especially Zoe Maslow, Roberto Verdecchia, Ed Innocenzi, Aileen Umali Rist and Eric Rist, Ryan Wilson and Sandy Gabriele, Jimena Ortuzar, Martin Ortuzar, and Ingrid Nasager—I thank my lucky stars for all of you.
Aunt Suzanne, the best cleaner and most loving aunt a niece could ask for.
Tony Hanyk, my first and kindest reader, and my loving partner in many glorious (yes, glorious) adventures.
And finally, special thanks are owed to my family, the Pronovosts, for making me who I am—Jackie and Paul, my mom and dad; Dan and Patty, my brother and sister-and-law; Devin and Joane, my nephew and niece. Long may we tell our stories, and long may we live them.
About the Author
Nita Prose is a longtime editor, serving many bestselling authors and their books. She lives in Toronto, Canada, in a house that is only moderately clean. She would love to hear from you at nitaprose.com or on Twitter and Instagram: @NitaProse.