Part 8
“Claire, can you move Dad to his room?”
She looked down the corridor. “Yes.”
“I’m coming.”
Evelyn said, “And what happens to me?”
Nathaniel met her eyes.
“For the next five minutes, you stay away from him.”
“And after five minutes?”
“I don’t know.”
The honesty angered her more than a threat would have.
“You’ve already decided.”
“No. I’ve decided you don’t get to control what happens next.”
Her mouth trembled.
Nathaniel disengaged the wheelchair brake.
They moved slowly toward Arthur’s room. Claire kept pace at the left side. The distant lake window widened behind them in reflection across the marble. Nathaniel could see Evelyn standing at the console, ivory satin surrounded by dark wood and amber light, one hand resting near the brush without touching it.
At Arthur’s door, Claire stopped.
“The threshold is raised. Tilt the chair slightly, then forward. Not too far.”
Nathaniel followed her direction.
The front wheels lifted an inch.
Arthur inhaled sharply.
“Easy,” Claire said. “You’re all right.”
Nathaniel eased the chair over the threshold.
The bedroom beyond was dim, lit only by two amber lamps and the cool spill of lake light through long curtains. Arthur’s bed stood against the far wall. A reading chair faced the window. On the nightstand sat a glass of water, a ceramic dish of pills arranged for the evening, and a framed photograph Nathaniel did not need to approach to recognize.
His mother at thirty-nine, laughing into wind near the north shoreline.
Evelyn had kept the photograph there.
The detail unsettled him.
Claire guided the wheelchair beside the bed. “He should remain upright for a few minutes. I need to check his blood pressure.”
She reached for the pouch at her waist.
Her fingers missed the clasp.
Nathaniel saw the dizziness return.
“Sit down.”
“I need the cuff.”
“Tell me where it is.”
“Side pocket.”
He found the blood pressure cuff and handed it to her. Claire lowered herself into the reading chair, still holding the cloth to her temple.
Arthur looked from her to Nathaniel.
“Can you use this?” Claire asked.
“I’ve seen it done.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
“No.”
Despite everything, the corner of her mouth moved. It was not a smile, only recognition of a predictable answer.
She leaned forward and wrapped the cuff around Arthur’s right arm. Her hands remained competent even while the rest of her body seemed to be registering the injury.
Nathaniel watched the numbers.
“High,” Claire said. “Not an emergency by itself, given what just happened. We need to keep him calm.”
“Should he take anything?”
“Only what’s already prescribed. Nothing extra.”
Arthur looked toward the door.
Nathaniel turned.
Evelyn stood at the threshold.
She no longer held the brush.
“I told you to stay away.”
“I stayed in the corridor.”
“Go back.”
“This is my bedroom too.”
Arthur’s eyes moved to the bed, then to her.
Evelyn saw it.
She put one hand on the doorframe. “I need clothes.”
Nathaniel almost laughed at the absurdity, then realized it was not absurd at all. Whatever happened next, Evelyn could not remain in the satin dress indefinitely. The ordinary requirement made the crisis more difficult, not less.
Claire removed the cuff. “His pressure is beginning to fall.”
Evelyn did not look at her. “I can take a robe and leave.”
Arthur’s fingers tapped the armrest twice.
Claire watched him. “Do you want her to enter?”
He stared at the floor.
“Once for yes, twice for no.”
He tapped twice.
Evelyn closed her eyes.
Nathaniel waited for anger.
What appeared instead was shame.
She stepped back from the threshold. “Fine.”
“Evelyn,” Nathaniel said.
She looked at him.
“Where can you stay tonight inside the house without passing this room?”
“The west guest suite.”
It sat beyond the opposite staircase. She could reach it from the corridor without approaching Arthur again.
“Go there.”
“You’re assigning me a room.”
“I’m creating distance.”
“On the word of an employee.”
“On Dad’s answer.”
“He is frightened.”
“Yes.”
“You have no idea what he’s frightened of.”
“The brush is on the table.”
Her face hardened. “You think one terrible second explains twenty years.”
“No. I think it explains one terrible second. The rest still has to be explained.”
The words held her at the doorway.
Nathaniel continued, “That includes the trust withdrawals. It includes the camera. It includes the document. It includes what happened last Thursday.”
Evelyn’s gaze flicked toward Claire.
“And it includes every time she tried to tell me something and I chose not to listen.”
Claire looked down.
Evelyn stepped into the corridor.
Nathaniel followed and pulled the bedroom door nearly closed, leaving a narrow gap so Claire could call him without raising her voice.
For a moment, he and Evelyn faced each other alone beneath the second chandelier.
She looked smaller without the brush.
“I did not steal from the trust,” she said.
“I didn’t accuse you of that.”
“You thought it.”
“I’m thinking several things.”
“Your face has always been more honest than you believe.”
Nathaniel leaned against the wall, suddenly aware that he had not removed his coat. The house was warm. Sweat had gathered beneath his collar.
“Did you hit Claire because she stopped you from making Dad sign?”
Evelyn’s eyes moved toward the distant console.
“I swung the brush.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“She grabbed my wrist.”
“The recording doesn’t show that.”
“Before the part you watched.”
“I went back six minutes.”
“She touched me earlier.”
“Earlier when?”
“In the lake room.”
“Why?”
“Because I was trying to help Arthur sign.”
Nathaniel’s stomach tightened. “Help him how?”
“His hand shakes.”
“Did he agree to sign?”
“He had agreed to review it.”
“That’s different.”
“He changes his mind every time she enters.”
“Maybe he changes his mind when he has a witness.”
Evelyn flinched as if he had struck her.
May you like
Nathaniel regretted the cruelty but not the possibility.
She folded her arms. “I showed him the reserve statements. He became upset. Claire came in and accused me of pressuring him.”
