Chương 4
A knock came at the door.
Alexander stood outside without his jacket. His charcoal tie hung loose, and the silver pocket square was gone.
“May I come in?”
Sofia stepped aside.
He had never entered her room. He looked at the narrow bed, the framed photographs of her sister’s family, the paperback novels stacked beneath the lamp, the chipped mug holding hairpins. A small wooden elephant Julian had painted in kindergarten sat beside the alarm clock. Its legs were different lengths.
“You were packing.”
“I do not know whether I am dismissed.”
“I have not dismissed you.”
“Your mother did.”
“She does not employ you.”
“She has always behaved as if she employs everyone.”
Alexander sat in the desk chair. It creaked beneath him. “The hospital is locating the records. My counsel says we may need your written authorization to access anything filed under your name.”
“It was not under my name. Julian was identified when we arrived.”
“Why did the bracelet leave the hospital with you?”
“The nurse replaced it after he was admitted to intensive care. The one in the locket was the emergency bracelet. It had blood on the inside. I washed it later.”
Alexander’s face tightened. “Intensive care.”
“For one night.”
“My mother said observation.”
“I am sorry.”
“Stop apologizing for her.”
“I was apologizing for you hearing it this way.”
He looked around again. On Sofia’s wall was a photograph of Julian at five, asleep on a sofa with a book open over his face. Alexander had not seen the picture before.
“He told me he hates me,” he said.
“He said he is afraid of his grandmother.”
“He said both after you left the library.”
Sofia sat on the edge of the bed. “Children say things at the size they feel them. It does not always mean the words will last.”
“Is that what you tell yourself about staying?”
She looked at him.
Alexander rubbed his hands together. A governor’s hands were photographed signing bills, lifting children, holding hard hats, touching the shoulders of grieving strangers. In Sofia’s room they seemed too large and useless.
“I believed her,” he said. “For years, whenever Julian chose you, I thought it was because you made everything easy for him.”
“I do not make things easy.”
“No. You make him practice piano.”
“He needs discipline.”
“He hid in a closet.”
“He needs less piano.”
Alexander almost smiled. The attempt faded. “Did you love him more because you saved him?”
Sofia considered the question. “I loved him because he was a baby and no one should be alone when they cannot breathe. Later I loved him because he put peas in his pockets and blamed the laundry machine. Those are different things.”
“Does he know you kept the bracelet?”
“He saw the locket. He never knew what was inside.”
“Why carry it every day?”
“For a long time I thought I might need proof. Then I stopped believing proof would matter.”
“It matters now.”
“Because he ran into the hall.”
Alexander flinched.
A second knock came. Martin entered without waiting, followed by a woman in a charcoal suit carrying a leather portfolio. Dana Cho, the governor’s counsel, had the alert stillness of someone accustomed to receiving bad facts after normal office hours.
“We have a preliminary issue,” she said. “The hospital found an archived admission. Julian was treated for anaphylaxis and respiratory failure. The chart lists Sofia as the accompanying adult.”
Alexander stood.
Dana continued before he could speak. “There is also a notation that a second family representative arrived at eleven forty-eight p.m. with private counsel and requested restrictions on the record. The representative’s name is not visible in the summary.”
“Get it.”
“We need a release. Since Julian is a minor, you can provide it. The hospital’s legal department will review in the morning.”
“Tonight.”
“They will review in the morning.”
“I am the governor.”
Dana’s expression did not change. “That is why they will be especially careful.”
Martin handed Alexander a phone. A news alert filled the screen: ALTERCATION AT GOVERNOR’S MANSION PROMPTS QUESTIONS DURING PRIVATE RECEPTION. The article contained no names but described “a senior member of the Whitmore family” and “a longtime domestic employee.” It mentioned that a child had witnessed the confrontation.
“Someone talked,” Alexander said.
“Several people talked,” Martin replied. “Versions differ. One guest claims Sofia threatened your mother. Another says your mother slapped her without warning. One says Julian accused the family of trying to take Sofia away.”
“That is what happened.”
“Facts and public accounts are not always related.”
Sofia looked at Dana. “Do I need a lawyer?”
“Yes,” Dana said immediately.
Alexander turned. “She is not under investigation.”
Dana met his gaze. “She was assaulted in a room full of political donors, has made an allegation involving historical child neglect, and depends on your family for employment and housing. She needs independent counsel.”
The word housing made Sofia glance at her suitcase.
Alexander noticed. “You are not losing your room.”
Dana closed her portfolio. “That assurance is generous and legally unhelpful. Sofia, I can provide names of employment attorneys, but I cannot advise you.”
“I know someone,” Sofia said, surprising herself.
Her niece Maribel worked as a paralegal at a legal-aid organization in Queens. For years Sofia had listened to stories about employers withholding wages, landlords changing locks, women waiting in fluorescent offices with envelopes full of evidence. She had always considered those stories part of a different New York, separated from the mansion by more than a river and a train line.
Now she called Maribel.
May you like
The next morning, Sofia left the mansion through the front door for the first time in years.
News vans stood behind barricades across the avenue. Camera operators lifted their equipment when the doors opened. Security wanted to take her through the garage, but her attorney, Elena Park, had advised against anything that looked like concealment. Sofia wore the navy sweater and gray slacks. Makeup could have softened the mark on her cheek; she left it visible.
