Chương 7
“What else does Sofia say?”
“That promises count after you’re not scared anymore.”
At sunset, Alexander went to the third floor and found Sofia’s room empty.
For one irrational moment, he believed she had left without telling anyone. Then Mrs. Park explained that Sofia had gone to her sister’s apartment in Queens on Elena’s advice. Remaining in employer-provided housing during an employment dispute created pressure and confusion. Sofia would stay away until terms could be discussed.
Julian heard and began crying with the silent, furious concentration of a child trying not to give adults another problem to solve.
Alexander called Sofia.
She answered on the fourth ring. Behind her voice he heard dishes, a television, and someone laughing in another room.
“Julian wants to speak with you.”
A pause. “Put him on.”
He handed over the phone.
“You left,” Julian said.
“I told Mrs. Park.”
“You didn’t tell me.”
“You were sleeping.”
“You could have woken me up.”
“I should have.”
“When are you coming back?”
Sofia’s breath passed softly through the speaker. “I do not know yet.”
“You said you weren’t leaving.”
“I said I would not let anyone take me away without telling you.”
“That’s the same thing.”
“No, cariño. It is not.”
Alexander looked toward the window. Sofia rarely used the endearment in front of him.
Julian wiped his face with his sleeve. “Are you mad at me?”
“Never for this.”
“You got hit because I ran to you.”
“I got hit because an adult chose to hit me. That is not yours to carry.”
Julian held the phone with both hands. “Dad says Grandmother doesn’t decide anymore.”
Another pause. “Your father is trying to make that true.”
Alexander felt the sentence more than he expected.
After the call, Julian refused the grilled cheese because it was cold. Alexander reheated it badly, burning one corner. They ate at the kitchen island while staff moved carefully around them. No one knew how formal to be with a governor whose son wore socks but no shoes and whose mother might soon face an assault charge.
Julian picked off the burned corner.
“Did Sofia save my life?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Did Grandmother leave me?”
“I am finding out.”
“You always say that when you don’t want to answer.”
“I say it when I don’t know.”
“Adults know things.”
“Mostly we know how to look like we know things.”
Julian examined him with suspicion, then ate another bite.
Vivian moved to a hotel after Harrow argued that remaining in the mansion created unnecessary conflict. She chose a suite overlooking Central Park and complained that the flowers were too fragrant. Her assistant canceled three lunches. Two foundation trustees requested emergency calls. A national committee postponed a fundraising event that had planned to honor her.
She did not call Alexander.
She called Julian twice. The first time he declined. The second time Alexander answered.
“He is not ready,” he said.
“He is eight. Readiness is not a concept children should be allowed to weaponize.”
“He is frightened of you.”
“He is being coached.”
“By whom? Sofia is in Queens.”
“By you, then. You need me to be monstrous because otherwise you must look at your own absence.”
Alexander moved away from Julian’s bedroom door. “This is not about my absence.”
“It is partly about your absence. That is why you are so eager to make it entirely about me.”
He wanted to end the call. Instead he stood in the hallway listening to a woman who had always known which wound to press.
“You were struggling after Caroline died,” Vivian said. “Do you remember that winter at all? You slept in the study because you could not bear your bedroom. You forgot bottles in the refrigerator. You canceled the pediatric cardiology appointment twice.”
“The appointment was rescheduled because of the storm.”
“The first time?”
Alexander said nothing.
“I held the family together,” she continued. “Sofia has turned one terrible evening into a mythology where she is the only person who loved that child.”
“She has not spoken to the press.”
“Not yet.”
“She could have destroyed you seven years ago.”
Vivian’s voice softened. “Perhaps she was waiting until the price rose.”
The cruelty of the suggestion made it difficult to dismiss. That was Vivian’s gift: she rarely offered a lie without attaching it to a fear already present.
Alexander ended the call.
The next day, Martin received an email from an address he did not recognize. The sender claimed to have attended the donor dinner seven years earlier and offered to speak under conditions of anonymity.
Martin assumed it was a trap until the sender listed the wine served, the name of the private chef, and the fact that one guest had broken a Waterford glass in the conservatory.
The witness was Dr. Leonard Price, a retired cardiologist and longtime donor who lived in Connecticut. He agreed to meet Dana and Alexander at his attorney’s office. He refused to be recorded.
Price was eighty-one, thin, and irritated by the inconvenience of memory.
“I was not Julian’s physician,” he said. “I had never examined him.”
“Were you at the mansion on January seventeenth?” Dana asked.
“Yes.”
“Did you know he was ill?”
“Not initially. Vivian came into the dining room around eight and said the baby had developed hives.”
Alexander leaned forward. “What did you say?”
“I asked whether he had trouble breathing. She said staff were fussing. I told her to call emergency services if there was swelling around the mouth.”
“Did she?”
“She left the table. Returned ten minutes later. Said the situation was handled.”
“Was that true?”
“An ambulance arrived at the service entrance. We heard the siren.”
“Did you go upstairs?”
“No.”
Alexander stared at him. “You are a doctor.”
“I was a guest. Vivian said the child was being treated.”
“You did not check?”
Price’s mouth tightened. “No.”
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“Why?”
“Because I believed her. Because I had been drinking wine. Because I did not want to embarrass my hostess. Choose whichever answer allows you to sleep.”
