Chapter 13 - Cleaning House on Prairie AvenueThe following three weeks were a whirlwind of joyous celebration and complete revitalization.
Under my direction, the historic Moretti estate was opened to the public for the first time in thirty years, hosting weekly charity garden tours and agricultural workshops to benefit pediatric cancer research and vocational trade schools.
The domestic staff at the mansion, who had once lived in fear of arbitrary dismissals under Vanessa Bellini, were given permanent employment contracts with full pension benefits, union wages, and comprehensive healthcare coverage under the newly chartered Moretti Trust.
Mrs. Carter was promoted to Executive Director of Household Operations, overseeing a fully staffed, respectful estate where no worker was ever treated as an invisible servant.
One Saturday morning in December, I walked into the grand kitchen.
The mansion was warm, filled with the rich aromas of simmering cinnamon cider, roasting chestnuts, and fresh sourdough bread.
My brother Mark was sitting at the breakfast island in his clean work flannel, drinking coffee and laughing heartily with Daniel as they discussed the logistics fleet upgrades.
“Good morning, Donna Natalie,” Mark teased with a playful wink as I walked in.
“Don't you start, Mark,” I laughed, swatting his shoulder with a linen towel before kissing his cheek. “You’re the head of a fleet repair company now; you have sixty transmissions to inspect.”
“I’m off duty until Monday, big sister,” Mark grinned, taking a bite of bread. “And Don Luca said I’m allowed to eat all the pastries I want.”
Footsteps echoed softly from the hallway.
Luca walked into the kitchen, wearing a casual charcoal cashmere sweater and dark trousers, looking relaxed, powerful, and breathtakingly handsome.
He walked straight to where I was standing, wrapping his arms around my waist from behind, pulling me gently against his solid, warm chest.
He buried his face into the crook of my neck, inhaling deeply.
“Vanilla, clean rain, and sweet bread,” he murmured against my skin, sending a delicious shiver down my spine. “The only scent I ever want to wake up to.”
I leaned back against him, looping my arms over his, smiling at the reflection of our family gathered in the sunlit kitchen.
“The wedding invitations were mailed this morning, Luca,” I whispered.
“Four hundred guests,” Luca smiled against my cheek. “And this time, Mrs. Vance is sitting in the front row, holding the bouquet of white roses herself.”
Mrs. Carter chuckled from the island, nodding with satisfaction.
May you like
“And nobody is carrying vases on a sprained ankle, sir. Not in this house.”
Laughter rippled through the kitchen, warm, bright, and completely devoid of shadows.
