Chapter 1 - One Day as Her Daddy
“You’re not supposed to be in this hallway.”
Lily looked over her shoulder as though the hallway itself might be offended.
“I know.”
Gabriel waited.
Most adults filled silence when he gave it to them.
Lily apparently considered silence free space.
“I’m sorry.”
That was more expected.
Then she added, “But I needed to find you.”
Gabriel’s expression changed by less than an inch.
“For what?”
Lily dragged Walter the rabbit closer and climbed onto the upholstered bench beneath a painting Gabriel’s grandfather had purchased because someone once told him old landscapes made a house respectable.
“My mama is sleeping.”
“That is usually what people do at six forty-seven in the morning.”
“She worked late.”
Gabriel knew the night staff.
Or believed he did.
“Your mother’s name.”
“Sarah Ward.”
The name registered.
Housekeeping.
Temporary hire who had become permanent eighteen months earlier.
Quiet.
Competent.
Never absent.
Gabriel had seen her hundreds of times without truly seeing her.
Dark hair usually pinned at the nape.
Gray uniform.
No jewelry except a thin silver chain.
She worked second floor rooms and occasionally formal service when Rosa needed help.
Gabriel knew because personnel files existed.
Not because he knew Sarah Ward.
“Why are you here?” he asked.
“Mrs. Gallo got sick.”
“Who?”
“My babysitter.”
Gabriel looked toward the service wing.
“So your mother brought you to work.”
Lily nodded.
“She said I had to stay in the little room and be quiet.”
“Yet here you are.”
“I woke up.”
The logic was flawless.
Gabriel almost sighed.
“Come.”
He started toward the service corridor.
Lily did not follow.
He turned.
She sat clutching Walter.
“I have to ask you first.”
Gabriel felt the beginning of a headache.
“Ask.”
Lily slid off the bench.
Walked toward him.
Stopped two feet away.
Then delivered the sentence that would rearrange the next twenty-four hours.
“Can I borrow you as my daddy for one day?”
Gabriel stared.
Of all the requests made in his office, homes, clubs, warehouses, court corridors, restaurants, and boardrooms, no one had ever asked to borrow him.
Not as a father.
Not for a day.
Lily waited.
Gabriel looked behind her, half expecting Sarah Ward to emerge laughing at some bizarre staff prank.
Nothing.
“Why?”
“Because Thursday is Daddy Day.”
“What is Daddy Day?”
“At school.”
“That does not explain it.”
She frowned.
“You bring your daddy.”
“I gathered that.”
“If you don’t have one, you can bring an uncle.”
“Do you have an uncle?”
“No.”
“Grandfather?”
“No.”
“Brother?”
“I’m four.”
Gabriel accepted the correction.
“What about your mother?”
“Mommies aren’t allowed.”
He did not like that rule already.
“Why?”
“Because it’s Daddy Day.”
“Circular.”
She shrugged.
“Miss Kelly made the paper.”
Gabriel thought of calling a school he had never heard of and explaining institutional design to an exhausted preschool teacher.
He decided against it.
Lily’s expression changed.
Two dimples disappeared.
“Ethan said I can’t come because I don’t have one.”
Gabriel’s face became still.
“Who is Ethan?”
“A boy.”
“I understood that.”
“He said everybody has a daddy unless their mommy doesn’t know who he is.”
Gabriel felt something cold behind his ribs.
Children could be cruel with facts they barely understood.
“What did you say?”
“I pushed him.”
Reasonable impulse.
Problematic execution.
“Did you get in trouble?”
“Yes.”
“Did he?”
“A little.”
Gabriel crouched.
He never crouched.
The movement surprised both of them.
His knees disliked marble more than his pride did.
“Lily.”
She looked at him.
“You do not need a father to be allowed in a room.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
The answer came too fast.
He waited.
Her eyes dropped.
“No.”
There it was.
Gabriel knew performance when he saw it.
Even at four.
“Does your mother know you’re asking me?”
Lily’s head snapped up.
“No.”
“Why?”
“She’ll say no.”
“That is important information.”
“She says no to everything dangerous.”
Gabriel almost smiled.
“Your mother has good judgment.”
Lily considered him.
“Are you dangerous?”
“Yes.”
Children deserved clear answers too.
She blinked.
“Like a lion?”
“Less fur.”
That earned a laugh.
Footsteps came fast from the service corridor.
A woman rounded the corner.
Sarah Ward.
Hair loose from its usual knot.
White blouse beneath a gray cardigan instead of uniform jacket.
Face pale.
“Lily!”
The child turned.
“Mama.”
Sarah crossed the hallway and dropped to her knees.
“What did I tell you?”
“Stay in the room.”
“And?”
“Be quiet.”
“And?”
“Don’t touch anything expensive.”
Gabriel looked at the stuffed rabbit dragging against a sixteenth-century side table.
Sarah followed his gaze.
Her face went whiter.
“Mr. DeMarco.”
He stood.
“Your daughter got lost.”
“I am so sorry.”
“Mommy, I found him.”
“That is not better.”
“I asked.”
Sarah went completely still.
Gabriel watched.
There.
She knew.
Not what he would say.
What Lily had planned.
Sarah turned slowly.
“What did you ask?”
Lily hugged Walter.
Sarah closed her eyes.
“Oh, Lily.”
Gabriel said, “Daddy Day.”
Sarah looked at him.
Humiliation moved across her face.
Not embarrassment about Lily.
About needing something.
“She should not have bothered you.”
“She did not bother me.”
Sarah stood.
“Come on.”
Lily planted both bare feet.
“You said I could skip school.”
“Yes.”
“I don’t want to.”
“Lily.”
“I want to go.”
Sarah’s voice softened.
“We’ll talk.”
“You always say that when the answer is no.”
Gabriel looked away.
That accusation belonged to family.
Sarah’s cheeks colored.
“Mr. DeMarco, I apologize.”
“Stop apologizing.”
She blinked.
He disliked how often employees apologized for things that were not actually failures.
Children walking.
Babysitters getting sick.
Existing in hallways.
“What day?”
Sarah stared.
“What?”
“Daddy Day.”
“Thursday.”
Lily brightened.
Gabriel continued.
“What time?”
“Mr. DeMarco.”
“That was a question.”
“Ten.”
“Where?”
Sarah’s mouth opened.
Lily answered.
“St. Anne’s.”
Gabriel knew the school.
Private Catholic preschool in Bronxville.
Small.
Expensive.
Not impossible on a housekeeper’s salary if financial aid existed.
He looked at Sarah.
“How long?”
“An hour.”
Sarah found her voice.
“No.”
Lily looked betrayed.
Gabriel did not.
“It is your decision.”
Sarah seemed almost startled.
“Yes.”
“Then no.”
Lily’s eyes filled instantly.
Gabriel regretted the sentence even though it was correct.
Sarah gathered her daughter.
“We are going back downstairs.”
Lily cried silently.
That was worse than noise.
At the service doorway, Gabriel said, “Sarah.”
She stopped.
He rarely used staff first names.
She noticed.
“What is the concern?”
Her grip on Lily tightened.
“It’s inappropriate.”
“That is a word people use when they do not want to say the actual concern.”
Her eyes flashed.
For one second, Gabriel saw someone beneath the careful housekeeper.
“Fine.”
She set Lily down.
“The actual concern is that you are my employer, you are not her father, and people take photographs of you when you buy coffee.”
Gabriel went still.
“There it is.”
Sarah looked immediately as if she regretted saying too much.
“People take pictures of everyone now.”
“No.”
She swallowed.
“I don’t want Lily in one.”
His attention sharpened.
Not privacy.
Fear.
Specific.
“Why?”
Sarah’s face closed.
“I don’t post her online.”
“That was not my question.”
“It’s my answer.”
Gabriel held her gaze.
She did not lower hers.
Interesting.
He could push.
He did not.
“Understood.”
Sarah took Lily downstairs.
At seven thirty, Gabriel returned to his study.
The customs reports no longer held his attention.
At eight, he asked his chief of staff, Daniel Rizzo, for Sarah Ward’s personnel file.
Then stopped.
“Never mind.”
Daniel raised an eyebrow.
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
Gabriel had almost turned curiosity into surveillance because he could.
That irritated him.
“Find out St. Anne’s policy for Daddy Day.”
Daniel’s eyebrow rose higher.
“Should I ask?”
“No.”
“Excellent.”
At nine fifteen, Gabriel went to the kitchen.
Rosa Morelli, sixty-eight, had run the estate kitchen since before Gabriel could read.
She was kneading dough.
“Sarah Ward.”
Rosa stopped.
“What did she do?”
“Why did you assume she did something?”
“Because men only say staff names in my kitchen when they are about to ruin breakfast.”
“She did nothing.”
“Good.”
“Do you know her?”
Rosa resumed kneading.
“She works hard.”
“That is not what I asked.”
“She is private.”
“Children?”
“One. Lily.”
“Husband?”
Rosa looked at him.
“Ask Sarah.”
Gabriel almost smiled.
Everyone in his house had apparently become principled overnight.
“Fine.”
He turned to leave.
Rosa said, “Her husband is dead.”
Gabriel stopped.
“She told you?”
“No.”
“Then?”
“She wears grief like a person who does not want questions.”
He looked back.
Rosa’s hands moved through flour.
“She came here three years ago with no references anyone could verify before five years prior.”
Gabriel’s attention sharpened.
“You hired her?”
“Household office did.”
“Why?”
“Because she worked two jobs, never lied about what she could do, and Lily was sick the week of her interview so she brought her in a carrier.”
“Three years?”
“Almost.”
Gabriel thought.
His personnel file said eighteen months because that was when she moved from agency placement to direct employment.
Rosa continued.
“Do not investigate her because a child asked you to play father.”
Gabriel looked offended.
“I was not.”
Rosa stared.
He sighed.
“I almost did.”
“Better.”
By afternoon, he forgot the matter as much as a man like Gabriel ever forgot anything.
Then Wednesday arrived.
At four, Lily appeared in his office again.
This time dressed.
Hair braided.
Walter clean enough to suggest intervention.
She placed a sheet of paper on his desk.
Gabriel looked at it.
ST. ANNE’S FAMILY MORNING — SPECIAL DADDY DAY.
Below:
MY GUEST: __________.
Lily had written GABRIEL in purple crayon.
He looked at her.
“Your mother said no.”
“She changed it.”
His eyes narrowed.
“Did she?”
Lily looked guilty.
“No.”
“Then why are you here?”
“Because Mama cried.”
Gabriel went still.
“When?”
“Last night.”
“Why?”
“She thought I was sleeping.”
He did not like where this was going.
“What did she say?”
“Nothing.”
“Then why do you think Daddy Day made her cry?”
Lily climbed into the chair opposite him.
“Because she looked at Daddy’s picture.”
Gabriel’s gaze sharpened.
“What picture?”
“The one she hides.”
Silence.
Children and secrets were natural enemies.
Lily continued.
“I told her I don’t need a real daddy.”
Gabriel said nothing.
“I only need a pretend one.”
Something in his chest tightened.
“Why me?”
She looked genuinely confused.
“Because you don’t laugh at me.”
That answer was unacceptable for reasons Gabriel could not name.
He picked up the school form.
“Your mother decides.”
Lily groaned.
“Adults ruin everything.”
“Frequently.”
He signed nothing.
That evening, Sarah came to his office after her shift.
She stood in the doorway.
“Lily told me.”
Gabriel waited.
Sarah held the school paper.
“She forged my permission.”
“She did not forge anything. She simply omitted it.”
Sarah almost smiled.
Then did not.
“She wants to go.”
“Yes.”
“She wants you.”
“Yes.”
“This is insane.”
“Possibly.”
Sarah crossed her arms.
“If you go, people will notice.”
“Why does that frighten you?”
She looked away.
He did not push.
Then she said, “Because her father was not a good man.”
Gabriel stayed still.
“He is dead?”
Sarah’s eyes came back.
“I never said he was dead.”
There it was.
Gabriel felt the room change.
“He does not know where you are.”
“No.”
“Does he know Lily exists?”
A pause.
“Yes.”
“Is he looking?”
“I don’t know.”
Gabriel leaned back.
“What is his name?”
“No.”
“Sarah.”
“No.”
Her voice cracked.
“I am asking you for one thing. If you agree to this absurd school event, do not post, do not let your staff post, do not let photographers near her.”
“I can control my staff.”
“Not everyone else.”
“No.”
She looked toward the window.
“I should say no.”
“Then say no.”
She closed her eyes.
“I watched her sleep last night.”
Gabriel waited.
“She had the paper under her pillow.”
His jaw tightened.
Sarah laughed sadly.
“She has never asked me why her father doesn’t come. Not really. I thought that meant she was okay.”
“Children can be okay and still want something.”
Sarah looked at him.
“You sound experienced.”
“I am not.”
That nearly made her smile.
He continued.
“If I go, I do not become part of whatever story you tell her about her father.”
“I know.”
“I do not lie if she asks me a direct question.”
Sarah’s face tightened.
“Within reason.”
“Within age-appropriate reason.”
She took a breath.
“One hour.”
“One hour.”
“No photographs.”
“I can request it.”
“No.”
Her fear returned.
“No photographs.”
Gabriel studied her.
He should say impossible.
Instead:
“I’ll handle it.”
Sarah nodded.
Thursday morning, Gabriel DeMarco walked into a preschool classroom carrying Walter the rabbit because Lily decided fathers carried important things.
Twenty-three children stared.
Four teachers stared harder.
Eight fathers recognized him.
One almost dropped his coffee.
Lily held Gabriel’s hand.
Sarah stood near the back, pale but smiling.
For fifty-three minutes, Gabriel cut construction paper, drank weak coffee, and allowed Lily to introduce him as “my borrowed daddy.”
No one died.
No one even raised their voice.
Then a parent took a photograph.
Not maliciously.
A group shot.
Children.
Guests.
Lily standing on a chair.
Gabriel beside her.
Her hand in his.
Sarah saw the phone flash.
Her smile disappeared.
Gabriel moved immediately.
“Delete it.”
The parent blinked.
“What?”
“Please.”
He added the word because preschool was apparently changing him.
The parent deleted the image.
Recently deleted too.
Gabriel checked.
Sarah exhaled.
Problem solved.
Except across the room, another father had already taken his own photo.
Gabriel never saw him.
By three that afternoon, the image appeared in a private neighborhood group.
By five, someone recognized Gabriel.
By six fourteen, the photo was forwarded to a man in Atlantic City.
He stared at Lily’s face.
Then at Sarah standing blurred in the background.
The man’s hand began to shake.
He had not seen Sarah Ward in three years.
Because Sarah Ward did not exist.
May you like
Her name was Mara Velez.
And the child holding Gabriel DeMarco’s hand belonged to him.
