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When the laundry was finished, Mineko folded the heavily bleached fabrics and replaced them in the basket. Alone, and without instruction, she padded down the hall with the load in her arms, carrying it to the opposite end of the manor. Shadows stretched and grew in those areas of the residence that went unoccupied, swallowing decoration and furniture in silence. The days were growing shorter. Soon, the rain would turn into snow, covering the roof and the trees until everything glared white in daylight and glowed blue under moonlight. With snow on her mind, she returned to the guest hall.

Only the black suits remained, lining the walls on either side of her like dark picket fences, upright and immovable. A couple near the end of the hall conversed quietly, ignoring her while being ignored by their co-workers. She set the laundry basket beside the first guest suite and walked away, not bothering to knock on the door. Without a doubt the same doorman would have answered, and she wasn't interested in what the man did and did not say.

A few hours remained in her day, but with the strange guests making themselves comfortable in the Sakata abode and Maria's absence, she found herself questioning her priorities. She had always been an assistant to the caretaker, working for the good of the estate. Now that the rooms were not so empty, would she be expected to take on the responsibilities of a maid or servant as well? She had never attended to people before—at least, not to strangers or individuals of status—aside from the widowed Sakata, who requested a cup of tea or other small favor once every blue moon. It was not the sort of service that played to her strengths or inspired more than submissive silence.

Her footsteps slowed and finally came to a halt in front of the private library, the closed door promising solitude and tranquillity on the other side.

Maria would find her here.

Grasping the door handle, she gave it a gentle turn, feeling the resistance of old age grind against the palm of her hand. She did not expect anyone to be inside, but nevertheless, she opened the door slowly, poking her head in to survey the room before entering with the stealth of a feline.

For a second she was bathed in the afternoon grey bleeding in from the single window opposite her, and then she flicked her wrist and the library was awash in a soft, incandescent glow. For the benefit of the books and manuscripts, the light was always kept low, the paintings and sketches on the walls framed and covered in a layer of glass to protect them from the post-noon sunlight that shone in on fairer days. The room itself was not large, but the bookcases stretched from the floor to the ceiling, providing as much shelving as possible given the spatial constraints. All-in-all, it was a cramped reading space; or, as Mineko preferred to think of it: snug.

Passing the dark shelves accumulating dust, she pulled the curtains over the window. There was nothing worth looking at outside, and she didn't fancy the idea of black suits strolling by and peeking in at her whenever they felt so inclined. Satisfied with the positioning of the curtains and confident that her solitude would not be disturbed for some time, she crouched between a pair of bookcases and wriggled a wide-covered, skinny book out from the trappings of the shelf.

As with the majority of texts in the library, it was an educational read: an interpretation and analysis of the imagery found on 17th century Chinese porcelain. The content of the book itself was something that she had no prior knowledge of or keen interest in, but the subject matter of some of the large illustrations—which contributed to the dimensions of the pages—piqued her interest enough to sit down and flip from one piece of pottery to the next.

Settling into one of two cracked leather armchairs sharing a tea table, she propped the book in her lap and began to read, the toes of her slippers swishing just above the floor.

Minutes ticked by, but the passage of time did not concern Mineko until a shudder rattled down her spine. The vents in the wall were always kept shut, assuring that the room stayed cooler than the rest of the manor, but the shiver caught her by surprise. She could not recall when the temperature had become uncomfortable. Upon looking down, she found herself in another similar predicament. The pages spread open over her lap looked familiar, but the memory of their lesson was elusive.

Did I fall asleep? Worry raised her from the armchair and nearly acquainted the book with the floor. The small hands on the timepiece propped on the tea table pointed towards her feet. Her shift ended soon. I've never fallen asleep before. Maybe I was just daydreaming? Maria-san… She snapped the book shut between her hands and scurried to replace it on the shelf, thinking about the caretaker.

I would have expected her to come and get me. No. No, that's wrong. I shouldn't have fallen asleep; I should have asked if she needed more help. I have to apologize. Maybe I should stay a little longer? Switching off the lights, she hurried out of the room, unintentionally slamming the door behind her. The warmth of the hall was refreshing, sweeping across her cheeks and making her hands tingle pleasantly.

She returned to the kitchen but found no one, and after checking the washroom and other rooms where Maria spent more time in the afternoon, she realized that the older woman was likely in the place she had avoided searching.

The guest hall was quieter, and not just from a decrease in the number of black suits standing in it. It was as if the west side of the manor had retired early for the evening. The matching light fixtures on either side the first suite were off, and if any light was on within the room, it was too weak to pass through the panes of the door. Two of the men in the hall looked her way when she turned the corner, and she slowed her pace despite herself.

Before she reached the first door, she stopped and addressed the man standing closest to it. "Excuse me?" Dark eyes met hers. "I'm looking for Maria-san—the caretaker. Do you know i-i-i-if she is still in the suite?" A grimace flashed across her face at the long stutter.

"She's inside." It occurred to Mineko that had she bothered to truly look at the black suits in the hall earlier in the afternoon rather than avert her gaze or send furtive glances their way, she would know whether or not she needed to describe Maria to him. "Do you need to speak with her?" His tone was polite, but she suspected he was really asking if what she had to say to the woman was important.

"I do. Yes." Her hands were fists at her sides, but she did not break eye contact with him. "Can I—would you—be able to get her? Please?"

The man adjusted the glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose and told her to wait a moment. He didn't ask for her name.

A few seconds later his knock on the door was answered by the butler-like doorman from earlier. They exchanged words briefly in soft voices, two pairs of eyes darted her way, and then the door shut in the spectacled man's face. He resumed his position against the wall and gave her a single nod.

After a short period of standing in the middle of the hall, wondering where she could rest her gaze and not be awkward about it, the door to the guest suite opened and Maria stepped out, gloveless. A bit of surprise carried over into the weary wrinkles of her face, but Mineko spoke up before her.

"I'm so sorry, Maria-san. I was in the library—" Maria put a hand on her shoulder and ushered her to the end of the hall where their conversation would stay private. "I lost track of the time…"

The older woman waved away her excuse. "Don't worry about anything else for today, I can handle the rest. Things are running differently now; it will take some getting used to." It sounded like their guests were going to be staying for a while.

"Are you sure? Do you want me to come in an extra day to help? Sakata-san isn't here right now, but when he comes back…"

A faint smile tugged at the corners of Maria's mouth. "I'll call you if I need help. Thank—"

"Maria-san." The call came from the guest suite. Maria's mouth hung open, her sentence interrupted halfway through, and both women turned to the man sticking his head out of the room. Once again, Mineko had the feeling that the man did not like her, his thick mustache standing out on his face, even in the shadows, appearing to droop at the ends into a frown that no doubt paralleled his lips. "Can you bring us some food? Broth or soup works best. Lukewarm."

"I'll get you some, Nakamura-san." The door closed and Maria let out a short sigh.

"Thank you, Mineko-chan."

They walked to the kitchen together, Mineko keeping a couple of paces behind Maria. Pushing through the double doors, she watched the woman pull a bowl out of the cupboard and set it on the counter before making her way to the pantry. Guilt gnawed at her insides and wrinkled her brow.

"Let me know if you need my help tomorrow morning. I don't mind coming in early." Maria set a carton of broth next to the stove and shot her an exasperated look, making her blush and mutter an apology.

Hoisting her backpack over her shoulder, she bid Maria a good night and padded out of the kitchen. Replacing her slippers for socks and boots, she retrieved her umbrella, pulled out her cell phone, and stepped out into the damp chill of late afternoon. There were a few people standing under their own umbrellas who turned her way as she reached the top of the steps, but only one observed her as she turned on her phone and dialled for a taxi. When her transportation to the station was sorted, she put her phone away and descended the flight, her feet sinking about an inch into the dark, muddy water at the bottom.

Ahead, past the black suits and through the knotting trees, a single pair of headlights drew closer. Waiting at the foot of the steps, it was not until the car was slowing in front of the porch that she recognized it, and moved. Around her, the black suits held stock still, readying themselves for whatever they believed would happen as the car came to a stop, wheels sloshing in the muck.

Almost immediately the back passenger door opened, and a folded newspaper was thrust into the air as a make-shift umbrella. A moment later, a pair of polished shoes splashed into a cloudy puddle beneath them, and the widowed Sakata straightened out of the car, the broad, tan shoulders of his suit browning.

"Good evening, Sakata-san." Mineko raised her voice to be heard and darted past the motionless black suits, holding out her umbrella to offer some small shelter from the elements.

The businessman slammed the door shut and ducked under her cover, his socks and the hems of his pants completely soaked judging by the look on his face. "Thank you, Matsumoto-san." She ushered him towards the porch, rain seeping into her clothes in her attempt to keep the tall gentleman dry.

"Good evening." Sakata nodded at the black suits as if he already knew them, while they nodded back in recognition.

"Sakata-san." Her employer turned to the man who followed them, but did not stop until they were under the porch. "The Captain wishes to speak with you. About accommodations, among other matters."

"Very well." Sakata paused before adding, "I'll make some tea. Then we'll speak." The messenger seemed about to object to the order of things, but the businessman drew himself up and gave him a look bordering on disdain. Several steps below, the man appeared to back down, and the anger left Sakata's expression, a sigh softening his stance. "I have not eaten since lunch. I think the Captain can afford me time for a drink, at least."

"I will let her know," the black suit informed him, his tone dubious. Evidently he knew the Captain well enough to predict her response. As it turned out, Mineko knew Sakata well enough to interpret his earlier statement to mean that he would ask Maria to prepare his tea. Mineko closed her umbrella.

"I will go and put the kettle on, Sakata-san. Maria-san is attending to the guests."

"I had assumed you were on your way out," her employer began, sending her a frown as he moved aside for the other man to pass between them on the steps.

"I w-w-was, but the tea will not take long. I have to w-w-wait for my ride too."

"If you insist." His shoulders gave a small shrug that indicated he had no concerns with her reasoning. He started up the stairs to the front doors, following in the footsteps of the messenger when she called for his attention again.

"Where would you like me to bring your tea, Sakata-san?" Her umbrella snapped shut with a sprinkle of rainwater.

"The tearoom will do." Mineko nodded and waited for him to enter the front hall before ascending the remaining steps, not wanting to crowd the space as footwear was exchanged.

Fifteen minutes later she was rapping on the door to the tea room, balancing a tray of cups and tea in her left hand. No one answered, and after a similar response to a vocal introduction, she decided to open the door. The window was shuttered as it had been since late in the morning, the room black and empty.

I'm sure he said the tea room. Maybe he's on his way now?

A minute crept by in the hall, then two minutes, and after the third, she closed the door and left in search of her missing employer.

Food and drink were never brought upstairs, and so she passed the staircase without a glance, moving on to the rest of the manor and listening for sounds of life.

She padded only a few steps down the guest hall before calling to the black suits in a thin voice.

"Sakata-san is inside." It was the man with glasses who had spoken to the unfriendly Nakamura on her behalf.

She ventured further down the hall, wishing that she had been selfish enough to let Maria prepare the tea. "Thi-is is for Sakata-san." She held up the tray. "Can you ask him i-if he still wants me to bring it to the tea room?"

Or can I hand it to you and be done with it?

"Please? I'm sorry i-if-f I'm troubling you." She bit the inside of her lower lip and stopped a few paces from him, looking at the guest room door.

Get a hold of yourself! Maria-san said… They might be important guests, but you're the host. You do have some authority.

"The Captain is in there with Sakata-san. She wanted to speak with him, so now might not be the best time to interrupt."

Mineko stared at him for a moment, her mouth dry. "He said that he would speak with the Captain after his tea." She didn't want to get in trouble with her employer, and it took her a few more seconds of watching the man to realize that he did not want to get in trouble with his higher-ups. "If no one answers, I'll take this back to the kitchen." It was unfortunate that she didn't sound as bold as she would have liked, but the fact that she hadn't been turned away must have meant she had some sway in the outcome of the conversation. She glanced at the man standing on the opposite wall and noticed he was avoiding making eye contact with his spectacled partner.

"All right. Go ahead." This time she would be the one knocking.

"Thank you," she muttered, not feeling very grateful. And so she found herself at the door, her knuckles smarting as they connected with the sturdy wood, each impact jarringly loud despite her attempt to knock softly. She cleared her throat and waited for a reply. The shade drawn over the window rustled on the other side of the door, and then the door knob turned.

Doing her best not to show her dismay, Mineko focused on the thick moustache while speaking. "I brought the tea Sakata-san asked for." Nakamura, probably just as thrilled to see her as she was to see him, opened his mouth, and a different voice came out.

"Is that my tea?" A whispered curse of one's forgetfulness followed. "Come in, come in!" The butler-doorman pursed his lips, paused a second, and then opened the door further, allowing her room to enter.

Sitting on a cushioned chair some ways from the bed, the businessman gestured her over. In a matching chair across from him sat a woman, straight-backed and refined compared to Sakata's cross-legged, relaxed figure. It looked like a meeting between a retired general and his protégé. The woman shifted in her seat—backwards—as if she had begun to stand when Mineko entered.

"Thank you, Matsumoto-san. I'm afraid I got roped in to the meeting sooner than I expected." Mineko only nodded, not confident enough to speak with the woman looking at her. Dark eyes set in a youthful face followed her like a hawk, analysing, glinting like shards of ice behind her lenses in the soft light. This must have been the Captain. If not her countenance, the gold bars displayed on her breast and sleeves certainly gave away her rank. "Would you like some tea, Captain?" Sakata inquired, his tone conversational. He reached for a cup. "Green tea is good for your health."

"No, thank you." The Captain glanced at him as she spoke, watching him sip at the warm beverage with something like disapproval.

"Set the tray over there by the window; I might pour myself a second cup." Mineko managed a stiff bow and walked past the seated man and woman, uncomfortable in the tense silence that settled in behind her.

Except the room wasn't really silent.

A rattle hissed from the bed, even and slow, sickening. It took all of her self-discipline to keep her eyes trained on the pine-green curtains pulled over the window and the cleared desk in front of it.

You'll stare if you look. You'll embarrass yourself and Sakata-san. And Maria-san. It's none of your business.

She turned around and walked back the way she came, stopping to bow again to her employer. "Goodnight, Sakata-san."

"Goodnight, Matsumoto-san." The elderly man smiled at her, and she, in turn, offered a small smile of relief. She resumed her path to the door and noticed Nakamura frowning at her. She wasn't sure if she could imagine any other expression on his face, and she lowered her gaze.

Her eyes slipped to the side, glimpsing the bedside and the bed's occupant. Bandages in the crumpled sheets, two people—one of them Maria—adjusting something on a round table drawn up next to the mattress, a lamp with a thin shawl draped over the shade to soften the light.

She exited the guest suite without a second glance.