The Carter family dinner was almost over when Emma entered the dining room carrying a freshly baked pie.
Daniel Carter sat at the head of the long polished table in a black suit.
Around him were relatives, investors, and several longtime family friends.
Two elderly women near the center of the table were still talking quietly when Emma approached.
She wore the same simple black maid uniform with a white collar.
Daniel looked at the pie.
I didnt order dessert.
Emma stopped beside him.
I know, sir.
Several guests turned toward her.
One of the older women frowned.
Then why are you bringing it out?
Emma placed the pie carefully on the table.
Because Mrs. Carter asked me to make it.
Daniel froze.
His mother had died six months earlier.
The room became completely silent.
One guest laughed nervously.
That isnt funny.
Emma looked directly at Daniel.
Im not joking.
She reached beneath the serving tray and removed a folded envelope.
Your mother left this for you.
Daniel stared at the handwriting on the front.
It was hers.
And suddenly nobody cared about the pie anymore.
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