Chapter 4 - GRANDMOTHER WAS STANDING IN THE DOORWAYThe blue bottle stopped beside Rebecca’s shoe.
She moved away from it.
Clara knelt but did not touch it.
“There’s no label.”
Nathaniel stepped forward.
“It could belong to the decorator.”
“Inside my gift?” I asked.
“No one saw where it came from.”
“I did,” Clara said. “It rolled out of the box.”
Rebecca’s breathing became shallow.
“Mother, please sit down.”
“I have been standing for ninety years without your permission.”
“That isn’t what I meant.”
“I know.”
I turned to the security director.
His name was Thomas Hale—not related to my physician despite the shared surname.
“Call the police.”
Nathaniel’s voice sharpened.
“For a bottle and a parrot?”
“For a threat involving my life.”
“Think about what this will do to the family.”
There it was.
Not concern for my safety.
Concern for the family.
People often use that phrase when they mean reputation.
Clara looked at him.
“If the phrase means nothing, police will confirm it.”
“You want detectives searching the castle the night before Grandmother’s birthday?”
“I want her alive the morning after it.”
Nathaniel glared at his sister.
I approached Snow.
The parrot stepped onto my hand.
His claws pressed gently against the velvet sleeve.
“Who said it, Snow?”
He touched my pearl necklace with his beak.
Then he made the three-note ringtone.
“Not before the candles.”
Nathaniel closed his eyes.
The security director moved nearer to him.
Snow continued.
“Doctor says natural.”
Rebecca made a small sound.
Clara turned toward her.
“What doctor?”
“I don’t know.”
Snow shifted his weight.
“Old heart. No questions.”
The warmth left the room.
I had a heart condition.
Not severe.
Well controlled.
Only my family, physician, and closest staff knew the details.
A natural death at ninety would invite little suspicion.
That was the terrible practicality of old age.
People expect us to die.
They stop asking why.
Nathaniel loosened his tie.
“Snow repeats fragments. You’re assembling them into a story.”
“Then provide a better story,” I said.
“I can’t explain every sound a bird makes.”
“Can you explain the recorder?”
“No.”
“The bottle?”
“No.”
“The forged sentence about my understanding?”
“I did not say it.”
Snow leaned toward him.
“Sign it, Grandmother.”
Nathaniel looked at the bird with hatred.
Snow retreated against my chest.
That reaction decided my next step.
I gave the parrot to Clara.
“Take Snow to the library. Remain with him.”
Nathaniel blocked her path.
“The police will think we’re insane.”
I stepped between them.
“Move.”
He looked down at me.
I was ninety.
He was thirty-four.
Tall.
Athletic.
Strong enough to move me with one arm.
But authority is not the same as physical power.
He stepped aside.
Clara carried Snow out.
As the library door closed, the birthday music began playing automatically.
A slow piano version of “Happy Birthday.”
May you like
Rebecca began to cry.
And Nathaniel quietly removed something from his pocket.
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