Chapter 2 - The Bedroom That Became a Gift Closet
Dr. Hannah Bell arrived while the roast was still warm. Gabriel had called her from the kitchen, where Mrs. Alvarez was heating towels and Rosie sat wrapped in a blanket with a mug of cocoa she seemed afraid to touch.
"You can drink it," Gabriel said.
"Even before dinner?"
"Especially before dinner."
Rosie took a careful sip. When Daniel entered, she set the mug down so quickly that chocolate splashed onto the table.
"Look at that," Daniel said. "Another mess."
Gabriel stood between them. "Not another word about a mess."
"You've been home five minutes. You have no idea what we've put up with."
"I have a fair idea of what she has."
Dr. Bell checked Rosie's temperature, listened to her breathing, and examined the red marks on her ankles where wet shoes had rubbed before someone took them away. She spoke quietly, asking permission before each step. Rosie answered in small, precise sentences, as though any wrong word might be held against her.
"She's cold and exhausted," the doctor told Gabriel privately. "She needs warmth, food, rest, and a proper follow-up. I'm concerned about what she's told me regarding punishment and missed meals. Document what you found tonight."
"Is she all right?"
"She's here with you now. Keep her there."
When Gabriel returned, Mrs. Alvarez was helping Rosie into dry pajamas. They were two sizes too small.
"Where are the clothes I sent?" he asked.
Mrs. Alvarez looked toward the hallway. "Perhaps you'd better see her room."
Upstairs, the bedroom Gabriel had decorated with pale-blue stars was filled with wrapped gifts, folding chairs, and Celeste's holiday wardrobe. Rosie's name had been removed from the door. Her little brass moon hung from a hook inside a closet.
"Where does she sleep?"
Mrs. Alvarez led him past the linen cupboard to a narrow room above the garage. A space heater sat unplugged beside a cot. On the windowsill stood a paper cup containing a dead poinsettia. A child's drawing was taped above the pillow: a tall man holding a little girl's hand beneath a crooked Christmas tree. In the corner, in block letters, Rosie had written DADDY KNOWS THE WAY HOME.
Gabriel touched the paper. "How long?"
"Since November," Mrs. Alvarez said. "Mrs. Mercer told me the move was temporary. I protested. She threatened to dismiss me before Christmas and report that I had stolen silver."
"Why didn't you call me?"
"I tried. The office said your family had requested no household interruptions. I left three messages with Daniel."
Gabriel remembered Daniel's cheerful reports: Rosie loves the decorations. Rosie is making friends. Rosie says don't hurry back.
Downstairs, Evelyn was waiting beside the tree. "You have no right to interrogate my staff."
"I pay them."
"And I kept this house standing while you played businessman."
"Where are Rosie's winter boots?"
"She ruined them."
"Where are the packages I mailed?"
"She didn't deserve them."
Celeste entered carrying a garment bag. "We returned a few things. Children need limits."
"A few?"
"Gabriel, please. It's Christmas."
He called his assistant, Nora Price, and asked for the delivery receipts. Every package addressed to Rosie had been signed for by Celeste. Two expensive items had been refunded to a card Gabriel didn't recognize.
"Send me the account details," he said.
Daniel leaned against the doorway. "You're turning a family disagreement into an audit."
"You made it one when you touched her gifts."
At nine, Gabriel sat beside Rosie in a guest room and read from the same worn Christmas book his late wife, Anna, used to read. Rosie interrupted at the page where a lost lamb finds the barn.
"Can I sleep here tomorrow too?"
"You can sleep wherever you feel safe."
"Grandma says this house isn't really ours."
"Why would she say that?"
Rosie rubbed the blanket's edge. "She says Grandpa left a surprise, but I'm not allowed to have it until I tell the truth."
Gabriel glanced toward the drawing he'd brought from the garage. On the back, under Rosie's handwriting, was a tiny pencil sketch of a staircase ending at a square door.
"Did you draw the attic?"
She nodded. "Mrs. Alvarez told me not to go up there. But I heard somebody crying behind the door."
"When?"
May you like
"On the night Grandma said the angel broke."
The hallway floor creaked. Gabriel opened the bedroom door. No one stood there, but a thin strip of silver ribbon lay on the carpet, leading toward the back staircase.
