THE LIGHT ABOVE THE COUNTER
I pointed at the display.
“Check the display.”
Greta’s mouth fell open. She looked up at the little light, then at the glass around Oliver.
“Is that recording?”
Jack loosened his grip on my arm. I hadn’t even noticed he was still holding me.
Oliver reached for him from the rug. Jack stepped around the glass, scooped him up and pressed him against his grey polo shirt. Oliver’s bare feet left damp marks on the fabric.
“Stay there,” Jack told me.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I said. My cheek was hot where he’d hit it. “Keep him away from the floor.”
A woman in a pharmacy vest came around the shelves carrying a flat cardboard box. She stopped so abruptly that a packet slid off the top and landed at her feet.
“What happened?”
Greta answered before I could open my mouth. “Keira knocked a bottle over. She nearly dropped it on the baby.”
“I saw her grab it,” Jack said.
“You saw me reach for it,” I said. “You came in after it broke.”
He looked at Greta. She smoothed the front of her black suit with both hands, pressing her name badge flat.
The pharmacy worker put her box on the counter. “Is anyone hurt?”
“Oliver needs checking,” I said.
Jack shifted his son in his arms and examined his feet, turning each one toward the light. Oliver squirmed and caught a fistful of his shirt.
“I don’t see anything,” Jack said.
“Let’s move him out of here anyway,” the worker said. “I’ll get the pharmacist.”
She guided Jack toward the front, away from the broken bottle. I got up slowly, keeping my gloves off the glass. My green uniform had a dark wet patch at the knee where I’d landed.
Greta took a step toward the counter.
“Don’t touch it,” I said.
She turned. “Touch what?”
“The display.”
“It’s a screen, Keira.”
“Then let the pharmacy staff handle it.”
Her eyes flicked toward the front door. For a second, I thought she might walk straight out. Instead, she bent to pick up the fallen packet.
The worker came back with the pharmacist, a man wearing a white coat. He took one look at the floor and sent her for a broom and a warning sign.
Jack stood behind him with Oliver on his hip. The baby had stopped crying and was sucking on two fingers.
“Can that show us what happened?” Jack asked, pointing at the display.
The pharmacist glanced up. “It has a camera, yes. I don’t know if this one was saving footage.”
Greta folded her arms. “This is ridiculous. Oliver’s all right. We should clean up and go.”
Jack didn’t move. “Can you check?”
The pharmacist tapped the edge of the display. A menu appeared, but it asked for a passcode. He took his phone out of his coat pocket.
“Our manager can access it,” he said. “She’s in the office. I’ll ask her to come down.”
Greta gave a short laugh. “You’re really going to waste her time over a dropped bottle?”
“You told him I did it,” I said.
“You were reaching for it.”
“Because you had it over Oliver.”
Jack looked from her to me. “Why was the bottle over him?”
“It wasn’t,” Greta said.
The worker returned with a yellow warning sign and set it beside the aisle. She began sweeping the largest pieces into a dustpan, stopping whenever a shard slid toward the rug.
I moved the rug only after she’d cleared around it. There was a glittering piece underneath, close to where Oliver’s foot had been. I held up one edge while she swept it away.
Jack saw it. He tucked Oliver’s legs against his side.
The pharmacy manager arrived with a ring of keys and reading glasses hanging from a cord. The pharmacist explained that a bottle had broken and someone had asked about the camera.
“Does it save anything?” Jack asked.
“Short clips when it detects movement,” she said. “If it was switched on. Nobody touch the screen while I look, please.”
Greta took her phone out of her pocket. She held it low, typing with both thumbs.
“Who are you messaging?” I asked.
“My assistant. I have a hotel to run.”
She put the phone away without showing me the screen.
The manager entered the passcode. The display changed to a list of clips, each with a time beside it. She touched the most recent one, and the four of us crowded around the counter.
At first, the picture showed only the waiting rug and the ends of the white shelves. Oliver sat on the rug, turning a soft toy over in his hands.
“That’s before,” Jack said.
I remembered the moment. Jack had handed Oliver the toy while he searched his pockets for his wallet. He’d left it in the car after paying for parking.
“Two minutes,” he’d told Greta. “Can you watch him?”
Greta had smiled and said, “Of course.”
I’d been at the small counter, waiting for a box of supplies for the hotel. Greta had come along because the pharmacy had called her about the order. Oliver had started crying when Jack went out, and she’d told him twice to be quiet.
On the screen, Greta entered the frame carrying the heavy glass bottle. The picture had no sound. She stood over Oliver, lifted the bottle, and opened her mouth.
Jack leaned closer.
“Can you make it louder?” he asked.
“There’s no audio on these clips,” the manager said.
We watched my green uniform appear at the edge of the picture. I ran in with both arms out. Greta’s hand opened. The bottle fell between us and broke beside the rug.
The clip ended just as I dropped down beside Oliver.
Greta touched her bun. “I was moving it away from him.”
“You lifted it over his head,” Jack said.
“I wasn’t going to hit him.”
“Then why did you say I dropped it?” I asked.
She looked at me, then at Jack. “I panicked. Keira was right there, and Oliver was screaming.”
Jack stared at the dark screen. Oliver had pulled his fingers out of his mouth and was rubbing his face against his father’s shoulder.
The manager tapped the clip again. “I’m going to preserve this. Please don’t film the screen yourselves. We’ll need to follow the pharmacy’s process for sharing it.”
“Don’t delete it,” I said.
“I won’t.”
Greta stepped back from the counter. “Jack, you know me. I would never hurt him.”
He put one hand over Oliver’s back. “You told me she did it.”
“I said she knocked it over.”
“You pointed at her.”
Greta opened her mouth, but he turned away. He brought Oliver to the pharmacist, who checked the baby’s feet and hands under the bright light. Then Jack called Oliver’s mother and told her what had happened, keeping his voice low until she asked him to repeat the part about the bottle.
I stood beside the warning sign, peeling off my gloves. A thin red mark crossed my wrist where Jack had grabbed me.
When he ended the call, he came over.
“I’m sorry,” he said. He kept one arm around Oliver. “I shouldn’t have touched you.”
I put my gloves in my uniform pocket. “You hit me.”
“I know.” He swallowed. “I’ll tell the police exactly what I did.”
Greta’s heels clicked against the tile as she approached. “Jack, we can sort this out ourselves.”
“No,” he said.
She turned to me. “Come back to the hotel with me, Keira. We’ll talk in my office.”
I looked at her name badge. The corner had come loose, and it hung crooked against her suit.
“You can talk to me here,” I said.
Her phone buzzed. She checked it, then slipped it back into her pocket. “I need to leave.”
The pharmacy manager stepped away from the display. “I’ve called the police. You’re welcome to wait in the front.”
“I have guests arriving.”
Jack moved to the glass front door and stood beside it. He didn’t block her, but he didn’t open it for her either.
Greta looked at him. “Are you seriously doing this?”
“Yes.”
For a moment she held her bag against her hip, keys caught between her fingers. Then she walked past him and stopped on the other side of the door, close enough to see us through the glass.
I borrowed a pen and paper from the pharmacy manager. My hand shook a little as I wrote down the hotel’s number and my own. I added that I wanted a copy of the clip preserved, then gave her the paper.
Outside, Greta paced once along the window. When a police car pulled up, she stopped.
Jack opened the door and spoke to the officer first. He pointed toward me, then toward the display above the counter. I followed him outside, leaving my rubber gloves on the counter while the pharmacy manager wrote her incident number beside my name.
