Chapter 2 - THE FIRST RULE OF THE EAST WING|
Vincent stayed in the doorway long after the music stopped.
He had seen his mother smile before. He remembered her laughing at Christmas dinners, teasing his father, and dancing barefoot in the kitchen when he was a boy. But those memories belonged to another lifetime. For years, Camila's good days had become brief accidents surrounded by confusion, fear, and long silences.
Now she was asking Nora whether she wanted honey in her tea.
It was such an ordinary question that Vincent felt something tighten behind his ribs.
Nora noticed him.
“Are you planning to stand there all afternoon?”
Camila turned.
“Vinny!”
The old nickname made him blink.
“Hello, Ma.”
“You're late. We were about to have tea.”
“I didn't know I was invited.”
Nora placed a cup on the table.
“You are now.”
Vincent approached, careful not to startle his mother. Camila patted the empty chair beside her.
“Sit down. Thomas always sat there.”
Vincent sat.
For several minutes, they drank tea while Nora pretended not to watch him. Camila told a story about a summer picnic that had happened before Vincent was born. She confused dates, forgot names, and repeated herself twice.
But she was happy.
When Nora finally stepped into the hallway to collect the laundry, Vincent followed.
“How did you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Get her to dance.”
Nora shrugged.
“I played music.”
“She hasn't danced in years.”
“Maybe nobody asked.”
Vincent looked through the open door. His mother was humming softly, turning her teacup in her hands.
“The nurse said dancing would agitate her.”
“Maybe the nurse was wrong.”
He studied Nora's face.
“You always speak to people like this?”
“Like what?”
“Like you're not afraid of them.”
Nora gave him a tired look.
“I'm afraid of plenty of things, Mr. Russo. Your mother's one of the least frightening people in this house.”
He almost smiled.
Then she pointed toward the room.
“She needs consistency. Same breakfast time, same music, same chair near the window. And she needs people to stop correcting every little thing she remembers incorrectly.”
“She thinks my father is alive.”
“Then sometimes you can let her tell you about him. You don't have to argue with her every time.”
Vincent's jaw tightened.
“Thomas has been dead ten years.”
“I know. But she doesn't always know that. If you remind her every time, you're making her lose him over and over again.”
The words landed harder than Nora intended.
Vincent looked away.
“What else?”
“She needs her old photographs. Not the formal portraits. The ones where she looks happy.”
“I'll have them brought in.”
“And someone should check why the nurse let her leave the east wing during the party.”
“I already fired her.”
“Firing her doesn't tell you how it happened.”
Vincent turned.
Nora was right.
That evening, he ordered Paulie to review the security footage and the staff schedule. The investigation revealed that the nurse had received a phone call during the party and left Camila unattended for nearly twenty minutes.
The caller's number belonged to a prepaid phone registered in Chicago.
Vincent stared at the report.
Beatrice Gallow had humiliated his mother in public. Now someone had arranged for Camila to wander into the ballroom at exactly the wrong moment.
The two events were beginning to look connected.
He found Nora in the east wing later that night, arranging photographs on a shelf.
“Do you recognize this woman?” he asked, showing her a photograph of Beatrice.
Nora frowned.
“That's the woman from the party.”
“Have you seen her in the house since?”
“No.”
“Has anyone asked you questions about my mother?”
Nora paused.
“Actually, yes.”
Vincent's expression hardened.
“Who?”
“A man from the catering company. He asked which room she sleeps in and whether she gets confused after dinner.”
“Did you answer?”
“No. I told him he should try asking her himself.”
Vincent took the photograph back.
“What did he look like?”
Nora described a tall man with a silver tie and a scar near his ear.
Paulie identified him within minutes.
He was not a caterer.
He was a Chicago soldier named Eddie Knox.
And the security footage showed him entering the east wing the night before the party.
Vincent looked toward his mother's room.
May you like
Then he heard Nora whisper behind him.
“Mr. Russo, I think someone has been in her bedroom.”
