THE TABLET ON THE BOOKSHELF
Lydia’s hand stopped halfway to her silk scarf.
“Is that recording?”
Harry looked from her to the bookshelf. He didn’t let go of my jacket at first. Then his fingers opened, and the fabric dropped against my chest.
Sam was still crying. I could see three pieces of glass between my knee and his bare feet.
“Harry,” I said, “please get him.”
My boss stepped around me and crouched. Sam stretched both arms toward him, and Harry lifted him clear of the rug. A sliver of glass clung to the cotton romper. Harry picked it off and set it on the desk.
“Is he cut?” I asked.
“I don’t see anything.” Harry turned Sam’s feet toward the light, checking the soles and the spaces between his toes.
Lydia took a step toward them. “Give him to me.”
Sam buried his face against Harry’s shoulder.
“Stay there,” Harry said.
Lydia’s polished nails pressed into her palms. “He’s my grandson.”
“And I’m holding him until we know what happened.”
The red dot kept blinking on the tablet. From where I lay, I could see the corner of the glass desk reflected on its screen.
Lydia moved toward the bookshelf.
“Don’t touch it,” I said.
She turned. “You don’t give orders in my gallery.”
Harry shifted Sam higher on his shoulder. “Leo’s right. Leave it alone.”
Lydia looked at Harry as though she hadn’t heard him. A minute earlier, he’d taken her word without asking me a single question. She’d seen him pull me up and strike me. Now his free hand was raised between her and the shelf.
“It’s my tablet,” she said.
“Then you can unlock it for us.”
She smoothed the front of her grey suit. “It’s probably not even recording the room.”
“Then checking won’t take long,” I said.
Harry glanced at me. A red mark had risen across his palm where it had hit my face. I put my hand against my cheek and felt the heat there.
“Can you stand?” he asked.
“Without you pulling me, yes.”
I got one shoe under me and rose slowly, keeping my other hand on the rug where it was clear of glass. My name badge had come loose on one side. I clipped it back to my lapel.
Harry took his phone from his pocket. “I’m calling for medical help.”
“That’s unnecessary,” Lydia said. “There’s no blood.”
“There’s broken glass next to a one-year-old.” Harry pressed the screen. “I’m calling.”
Sam’s crying had softened to hiccups. Harry told the dispatcher what had happened, then stopped.
“Possible glass exposure,” he said. “No visible cuts.”
Lydia folded her arms. “Tell them it was an accident.”
Harry turned away from her to give the office address.
A woman appeared outside the glass door, breathless, with a canvas diaper bag hanging from one shoulder. She pressed her palm to the glass.
“Mara,” Lydia said. “Thank goodness.”
Harry opened the door. Mara came straight to Sam.
“I was downstairs getting his bag,” she said. “What was that noise?”
“The award fell,” Lydia said.
Mara looked at the pieces on the rug, then at the empty spot on the glass desk where the award had stood.
“Fell from where?”
“I had it in my hand.”
Harry passed Sam to her. Mara checked his face and arms, then bent over his feet. Sam grabbed her hair and held it in his fist.
“Paramedics are coming,” Harry said.
Mara looked up sharply. “Why?”
“Because I’d rather have them check him.”
She carried Sam into the hallway, away from the glass. Harry asked a receptionist to bring a blanket and wait with them. When he came back into the office, Lydia had picked up the tablet.
“Put it down,” he said.
“I’m turning it off. It’s been recording since the meeting.”
“Put it down, Lydia.”
She held it against her suit. “You can’t tell me what to do with my own property.”
Harry stayed by the door. “You called my company because you wanted a concierge at tonight’s opening. I came to discuss your complaint about Leo. I walked in, and you told me he’d dropped an award beside your grandson.”
“He did drop it.”
“I want to see the recording.”
Lydia’s fingers tightened around the tablet. “You’re taking his side now?”
“I slapped him without knowing what happened.” Harry’s voice was rougher than it had been on the phone. “I’m not doing anything else until I know.”
Lydia looked at me. “You ran at me.”
“I ran at the award.”
“You frightened Sam.”
“He was crying before I came in.”
Mara’s voice came from the hallway. “Play it, Mom.”
Lydia turned. Mara stood in the doorway with Sam wrapped in a cream blanket. The receptionist waited behind her.
“Go downstairs,” Lydia said.
“No.”
For a moment, the only sound in the office was the air vent above the windows. Then Lydia placed the tablet on the glass desk.
Harry didn’t touch it. “Will it save the recording if you stop it?”
“Yes.”
“Please stop it.”
Lydia tapped the screen. The red dot disappeared. She entered her passcode, found the video and pushed the tablet toward Harry.
He looked at me. “Will you watch it with me?”
I wanted to get out of the office. My cheek still throbbed, and the front of my suit was dusty from the rug. But Mara was holding Sam at the door, waiting.
“Yes,” I said.
Harry turned the tablet so we could both see.
The recording began with the empty corner office. Late afternoon light lay across the bookshelf and the rug. The angle included the desk, the door and most of the floor in front of it.
Lydia came in carrying Sam. She set him on the rug with a small cloth toy, then sat behind the desk and opened a folder. For a while, paper rustled. Sam crawled toward the bookshelf and back.
Mara stepped closer. “That’s when I went downstairs.”
On the screen, Sam pulled himself up against the desk. Lydia looked over the edge.
“Sit down,” she told him.
He dropped onto the rug and began to cry. Lydia tried the cloth toy, then picked up the glass award. Sam reached toward it.
“Don’t touch that.”
He cried louder. Lydia stood, lifted the award above him and shouted, “Shut up!”
I entered the frame at a run. “Put him down!”
Harry leaned forward. On the screen, my hands reached Lydia’s wrists just as the award slipped. I lunged after it, missed, and fell beside Sam. The award struck the rug and broke.
A few seconds later, Harry appeared in the glass office door. He stood still. Lydia pointed at me.
“He did it!”
The tablet speakers made the slap sound smaller than it had felt. Harry flinched anyway. On the screen, I fell, pointed toward the bookshelf and told him to check the tablet.
Harry stopped the video.
Mara held Sam so tightly the blanket bunched at his back. “You raised that over him.”
“I wasn’t going to hurt him,” Lydia said. “I was moving it away.”
“You held it over his head.”
“It slipped.”
“And then you blamed Leo.”
Lydia reached for Mara’s arm. Mara stepped back into the hallway.
The receptionist said, “The paramedics are here.”
Mara took Sam downstairs with her. Lydia followed as far as the doorway, but Mara didn’t wait. Her footsteps faded toward the elevator.
Harry remained beside the desk. “Leo, I’m sorry.”
I touched my cheek again. “You saw me on the floor. You didn’t ask.”
“I know.”
“You hit me.”
“I know that too.” He took a breath. “I’ll report what I did to the company. You can make your own report, and I won’t handle it.”
Lydia picked up the tablet. “There’s no reason for any of this to leave the room.”
Harry looked at her. “You accused him in front of me. There’s a recording. Mara has seen it.”
“This is my gallery.”
“And Leo is my employee.” Harry paused. “I’ll make sure he has the chance to give his account without me present.”
He asked Lydia not to delete the recording and requested a copy. She stared at the screen for several seconds, then sent it to Mara, with Harry and me copied on the message. I checked my phone only long enough to see the video file arrive.
Downstairs, the paramedics examined Sam in the lobby. I stayed back while Mara answered their questions. One of them checked his feet and hands under a small light. The other brushed a tiny piece of glass from the blanket.
They didn’t find a cut. Mara thanked them, then carried Sam outside to her car.
Harry came through the lobby doors after me. He had my coat over one arm.
“The opening’s still scheduled,” he said. “Lydia wants another concierge.”
I took my coat. “She won’t get me.”
“No. She won’t.”
Across the street, Mara fastened Sam into his car seat. Lydia came out of the gallery and approached the passenger side. Mara closed the rear door before Lydia reached it.
Harry held the lobby door open, waiting for me to go back inside.
I put on my coat, unclipped my name badge and handed it to him. “I’ll speak to your office tomorrow,” I said, then walked toward the bus stop.
