Chapter 5
I brought Claribel to the sunroom the next morning.
No guests.
No spectacle.
Just Mother.
Marian.
Leonora.
Me.
Claribel looked at the communication board and immediately said:
“This is cruel.”
I almost laughed.
“To whom?”
“Your mother is exhausted.”
Beatrice moved the pointer.
N.
O.
Claribel looked away.
Good.
I decided to test something.
Not Mother.
Claribel.
I asked Beatrice:
“Is my father alive?”
My father had been dead eleven years.
Mother answered no.
Claribel said:
“She said yes.”
The room froze.
Claribel realized too late.
I looked at her.
“Again.”
Her face hardened.
“You’re humiliating me.”
“No.”
I lowered my voice.
“I’m finding out whether you’ve been mistranslating a woman who cannot verbally correct you.”
I asked Mother:
“Is Milo five?”
Yes.
Claribel remained silent.
“Does Milo frighten you?”
No.
“Do you want him kept away?”
No.
“Did you ever approve withholding food?”
No.
“Did you approve the cage?”
Mother slammed the pointer onto NO.
Claribel’s composure cracked.
“It was never supposed to be a cage.”
I turned.
There.
“It was a floral display.”
“With a latch.”
“He kept running away from supervision.”
“He is five.”
“He needs structure.”
“From you?”
She stared.
Then Beatrice began spelling.
B.
L.
U.
E.
R.
O.
O.
M.
Claribel went pale.
I had not mentioned any blue room.
Neither had Marian.
Mother pointed down the hall.
My old childhood wing.
There was a pale-blue guest room at the far end.
Locked for months because Claribel told staff she was using it to store wedding decorations.
Apparently Mother knew what was actually inside.
I looked at Claribel.
“What did you put in the blue room?”
She said nothing.
May you like
That was enough.
I took the key from her handbag myself.
