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</div><span style="font-family: 'Georgia'">It had been terrible week.  Mister Widcombe's suicide had left the entire housekeeping staff in shock!  For the first few days, Rikkie felt completely awful because in retrospect she now recognized the small signs of depression that Mr. Widcombe had let slip during the week before he took his own life.  His clothing color and  style choices changed from light fawn 'office casual' to black and formal business.  At times she noticed him looking at her, as if he was considering some question on his mind and not one he wanted to ask.  Finally, there was something very different about their last conversation.<br/>
<br/>
Twelve years ago, when Rikkie was only six, Mr. Widcombe had seen her when Rikkie had first decided that she wanted to be a girl.  She had been there, hiding behind her mother's skirt, when Mr. Widcombe asked her mother, "What the devil is going on here?"  Mother explained that she had taken Richard to see a psychiatrist and that it was probably "just a phase".  As time passed and it became clear that it wasn't just a phase, Mr. Widcombe took Rikkie aside and asked her why she wanted to be a girl.  Little Rikkie answered and told him that she wanted to be a girl because girls were pretty and boys weren't supposed to hit girls.  Boys were mean to small boys.  Girls were supposed to be loved and protected.<br/>
<br/>
After their talk, Mr. Widcombe told her that he'd known that small boys were often abused by larger boys and that he now understood.  Soon, he began calling her to spend an hour with him, almost every week or two.  They would talk about how things were going in elementary school and what things were like when Mr. Widcombe was younger.  Rikkie loved these stories and eventually began writing them down.  This pleased Mr. Widcombe.  When it was near time that Rikkie might have to go to a middle school, where she would have to take her clothes off for gym class and everyone would learn that she wasn't a real girl, Mr. Widcombe got her enrolled in a home schooling program.  She would have to help her mother with the housekeeping work, but Rikkie decided that it was a small price to pay.  <br/>
<br/>
The next year Rikkie began to take prescription medicine to help her keep from turning into a young man.  Rikkie also became a very good servant and housekeeper in her own right.  More time passed.<br/>
<br/>
The week before Mr. Widcombe killed himself, he summoned Rikkie and told her a story about a young woman that he'd been in love with before Mrs. Widcombe.  The young Mr. Widcombe and the young woman were physically intimate and she soon became pregnant.  Mr. Widcombe, however, was young and wild and easily enraptured by another pretty face.  Now he had two women that he professed to love, but was in no good position at that time to take on the responsibilities of being a father.  He convinced his first love to have an abortion, but the procedure did not go well and she almost died.  He felt too ashamed to look into her eyes again.  He felt too guilty to say or write to her that he was wrong to pressure her into an abortion.  The story ended there.<br/>
<br/>
Mr. Widcombe gave Rikkie a fatherly hug and dismissed her.  The next week, he killed himself.  How could he do such a thing as set himself on fire?!?  Was it the guilt?  He'd lived with that long before Rikkie had been born.  Why he had killed himself?  Rikkie didn't think that she would ever understand.<br/>
<br/>
Now it was the week following Mr. Widcombe's death.  His daughter, Grace, who Rikkie had not seen in years but still recognized, descended the staircase, looking very wealthy and sophisticated compared to Rikkie who was dressed as a servant.  Rikkie wore her best uniform of black and white, the one she used for formal dinners, with very polished shoes.  Mother was too distraught to attend. <br/>
<br/>
Rikkie looked down and away before Grace Widcombe came near to her.  Then Grace addressed her, asking her who she was.  It had been years since the young Miss Widcombe had spoken with Rikkie.  Perhaps the older woman did not recognize her?  That would be good, reflected Rikkie.<br/>
<br/>
<span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(247, 218, 100)">"My name is 'Rikkie', Ma'am,"</span> she answered softly.<br/>
<br/>
Rikkie was about to ask if there was anything she could do for Miss Widcombe when the older woman then asked, <span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(235, 107, 86)">"When?"</span><br/>
<br/>
Rikkie felt herself begin to feel smaller than her five foot slender frame and wanted to run away at the intensity of Miss Widcombe's stare and question, but she made herself stand there like a good servant and tried to puzzle out what the woman wanted to know.<br/>
<br/>
<span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(247, 218, 100)">"I'm sorry, Ma'am,"</span> Rikkie answered, more subdued than when she'd been asked her name, <span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(247, 218, 100)">"but I don't understand the question."</span><br/>
<br/>
Just then, the doorbell rang.  Rikkie excused herself, not waiting to be dismissed, and went to greet whomever was there that wanted to come inside.</span>