Chapter 3 A glimpse of kindness

Maya adjusted the vase on the hallway console table for the third time, making sure the stems of the lilies weren't crooked. She double-checked the water level, stepped back, and gave a small nod to herself. It wasn't that anyone would notice-most people in the house didn't even glance at the flowers-but she had her own standards.

Finishing her rounds early that morning had left her with a rare pocket of free time. She debated slipping outside for some fresh air when Mr. Greene, the estate's older butler, approached.

"Miss Maya," he said, handing her a folded note with Alexander Ashbourne's initials. "Mr. Ashbourne asked me to deliver this to you."

"Thank you." She gave a polite nod and unfolded the thick stationery.

Meet me in the conservatory at noon.

– A.A.

The conservatory? She had dusted and swept the space countless times, but rarely did anyone use it. The room had a reputation among the staff-quiet, sunlit, and out of the way, it was almost like it belonged to a different world.

Exactly at noon, Maya arrived at the glass-paned entrance, smoothing her apron. She hesitated for a second before pushing the door open.

Inside, the air smelled of citrus and orchids. Afternoon sunlight streamed through the domed ceiling, warming the tiled floor. Alexander stood by a small table in the center of the room, reviewing something on his tablet.

He looked up when he heard her. "Maya. You're on time."

"Yes, sir."

"I wanted your opinion on something." He gestured toward the central flower arrangement-an elaborate display of orchids, lilies, and baby's breath. "The conservatory hasn't been updated since my mother passed. I'm thinking of restoring it. But I don't want to make it feel sterile."

Maya blinked. "You want... my opinion?"

He raised an eyebrow slightly. "Is that surprising?"

"A little," she admitted, quietly.

Alexander gave a faint smile. "You've worked here for nearly two years. I've noticed the little details. You handle the garden arrangements. You choose color pairings. It's not part of your job, but you do it anyway-and you do it well."

Maya didn't know how to respond. No one had ever mentioned it before.

"I'd like to bring in more seating, better lighting for evenings, and maybe open the space for weekend guests or reading," he continued. "What do you think would make this place more usable without losing the atmosphere?"

She walked slowly around the table, assessing the room with fresh eyes. "Maybe lower tables near the corners, something casual-iron or wicker, not polished wood. Less formal. And lavender or mint near the doors to make the air feel fresher."

He nodded as she spoke. "Interesting. Practical, too."

She didn't smile, but she felt a small bit of tension loosen in her shoulders.

Alexander studied her. "You're efficient. But you also pay attention. That combination is rare."

Maya kept her eyes on the floor tiles. Compliments from her employer, especially one like Alexander, weren't something she knew how to accept.

"I try to do the work properly," she said.

"Still," he added, "don't underestimate the value of effort. Or clarity."

He moved toward the window, looking out across the gardens. "My mother spent a lot of time here. She always said people reveal themselves in quiet places. I think she was right."

Maya didn't answer. The conversation felt more personal than she had expected.

Alexander turned back. "You don't say much about yourself."

She gave a small shrug. "There's not much to say."

"I doubt that." He paused, then continued, "You mentioned you've been working since sixteen?"

She nodded. "After my mother passed."

"That's young."

"There wasn't much choice."

Another pause.

"I respect that," he said simply.

The words were said without ceremony, but they landed with weight. Maya didn't know what to say in return.

Alexander checked his watch. "You've been working without pause today. Go to the sunroom. Lunch has been arranged."

Maya frowned. "Sir?"

"You're not on break, I know. But I asked the kitchen staff to prepare something. It's already there. Just take the time."

"I... I'm not sure if that's appropriate."

He looked at her directly. "It's a gesture, not a transaction. You've earned it."

She hesitated, caught between professionalism and confusion. But eventually, she gave a polite nod. "Thank you, Mr. Ashbourne."

He gave a short nod and walked past her, the door clicking softly behind him as he left the conservatory.

Maya remained standing for a moment, her mind running through every detail of the conversation. It hadn't been personal in a romantic sense. There had been no lingering glances, no soft touches, no whispered confessions.

But still-it had been unusual.

And, in its own quiet way, kind.

Later that afternoon, when Maya stepped into the sunroom, she found a tray already laid out for her: warm vegetable soup, crusty bread, and a small cup of fruit with mint. Nothing extravagant, but far above what she was used to.

No one else was around. No notes, no audience.

Just the meal.

Just the kindness.

She sat slowly and began to eat, unsure what to make of it.

In the hallway beyond the sunroom, behind a half-open door, a pair of eyes watched with sharp interest.

Rachel leaned against the frame, arms crossed, lips curved in a slow, knowing smile.

The maid was being noticed.

And that could change everything.