I looked up at Marisol, wiping my face.

“And Marisol,” I said.

“We need to discuss your position here.” Marisol’s expression paled slightly, and I realized, too late, how the words sounded.

“Effective immediately,” I continued, “you are no longer our housekeeper.”

She froze, and I saw her brace herself, certain I was letting her go, certain that somehow, after everything, she was the one being punished.

“I understand, Mr.

Vance,” she said quietly, with a dignity that made my chest ache.