Chapter 3
I didn't let go of the cane even after he was standing between us. My hands had gone tight around it and I couldn't make them loosen. The wood was warm from my palm.
He was breathing hard from the stairs. He'd stopped halfway down the newel post, one hand still on the white balustrade, the other reaching toward me but not touching the chair. The chandelier light caught the gold buttons on his suit.
"Mother, mother, mother, tell me what happened," he said again, quieter this time.
The blonde woman in the gold gown stepped back half a step. She smoothed the front of her dress with both hands. "It's nothing. We were just trying to get her settled," she said. Her voice was even now, like she was explaining something simple. "She got upset."
The maid hadn't moved. She was still leaning over the back of my chair, her hands light on the handles but not pushing. She looked at my son, then at me.
I kept the cane across my lap. It wasn't for walking, not really. Not anymore.
Earlier that evening she'd come into the dressing suite upstairs. I was in front of the mirror. The maid had helped me with the gray cardigan over my brown top, and I had my pearl earrings in. My chair was angled toward the window, and I had my cane hooked over the armrest where I always kept it.
She was already in the gold gown. Her hair was up and she had that gala perfume on.
"We'll have you in the foyer before guests arrive," she said to me, not asking. "Right under the chandelier where everyone can see you comfortable."
I said I would rather stay in my suite until dinner. The foyer was cold and the marble was hard on the wheels.
She smiled and put her hand on the back of my chair. "Don't be difficult. You want to be part of the evening, don't you?" She didn't wait for an answer. She turned to the maid. "Bring her down at seven sharp. Park her by the staircase."
I remembered the way she said park. Like I was something to be placed.
Now, under that same chandelier, I found I could speak.
"If she takes it, I can't stop," I said. My voice was thin. I had to clear my throat. "The cane is my brake."
My son frowned. "Your brake?"
I lifted it an inch. My hand shook. "I hook it. On the wheel. Or on the floor. It tells them I'm not ready to be moved." I looked down at the polished marble with the black inlay, at the reflection of the chandelier trembling there. "If someone pulls it from me, the chair rolls. I roll wherever they want. I can't reach."
He looked at the blonde woman. She gave a short laugh.
"She's making more of it than it is," she said. "I just asked for the cane. She was waving it. I didn't want her to hit someone. The maid grabbed the chair too hard and scared her. That's all this was."
The maid's mouth pressed together but she didn't answer right away. I could feel her hands still steady on my handles.
"Is that what happened?" my son asked me. He crouched a little so his eyes were level with mine. His tie was crooked.
I swallowed. The tears were still there but I wasn't sobbing. "She said, 'Give me that cane,'" I said. "She reached for it. Twice." I glanced at the blonde woman. She didn't correct me. "I held it. She held the chair. The maid was trying to keep it still."
The blonde woman crossed her arms. The gold of her dress caught the blue evening light. "You're letting the maid twist this. I told her to stay away from you because she was upsetting you. I said you're finished if you keep handling her like that. I was defending you, Mother."
My son didn't look at her. He was looking at my hands on the dark wood.
"Why would you take her cane?" he asked her. His voice wasn't loud. It had a pause in it I hadn't heard before.
"Because she doesn't need it in the chair," she said quickly. "It's a fall risk. Ask anyone. You don't hold a cane while you're being wheeled."
"It's not a fall risk when it's mine," I said. It came out sharper than I meant. I made myself breathe. "It's how I say no."
Silence settled for a second. The chandelier hummed faintly overhead. Somewhere in the house a clock ticked.
The blonde woman looked toward the staircase, toward the front door, as if expecting guests. "This is ridiculous. We have people coming. We can't do this in the foyer."
My son stood up slowly. He kept his hand near my chair but didn't take the handles. He turned his head finally, past me, to the maid.
May you like
He said, "What happened from your side? Tell me exactly what you saw."
The blonde woman's head snapped toward her. The maid took a small breath. I tightened my grip on the cane and waited.
