Arthur entered alone.
Maya and Mrs.
Gordon remained outside.
He touched nothing at first.
Then his gaze found a small wooden horse on the floor.
He bent and picked it up.
His daughter had carried it everywhere for a month because she had decided, for reasons no adult had understood, that horses slept better under dinner tables.
Arthur remembered pretending to search for it while she giggled behind a curtain.
He sat on the edge of the bed.
Mrs.
Gordon quietly turned away.
Maya did not speak.
That was what surprised Arthur most.
Everyone who knew about his loss eventually tried to fill the silence.
They offered condolences.
Wisdom.
Religious comfort.
Business distractions.
Maya gave him none of it.
She simply stood where he had asked her to stand.
After several minutes, Arthur looked toward the doorway.
“Why didn’t you take the key?”
Maya frowned slightly.
“Because it wasn’t mine.”
“People convince themselves rules don’t apply when nobody is watching.”
“You were watching.”
Arthur almost smiled.
“You didn’t know that.”
“I suspected it.”
That caught him.
“When?”
“The money.”
“Why?”
“It was too neat.”
Mrs.
Gordon’s mouth twitched before she suppressed it.
Maya continued.
“You don’t leave anything carelessly.
Not a cup.
Not a file.
Not a chair.
But suddenly there’s cash beside a gold watch and the only interesting key in the entire house?”
Arthur looked down at the wooden horse.
“So you knew it was a trap.”
“I knew someone wanted to know what I’d do.”
“And you covered me with a blanket.”
“You looked cold.”
Arthur finally did smile, though it lasted barely a second.
Then Maya added, “Also, if you were actually asleep, I didn’t want you waking up angry because nobody covered you.
You seem like a man who could make that everyone’s problem.”
Mrs.
Gordon coughed into her hand.
Arthur turned toward her.
“Was that a laugh?”
“No, sir.”
“It sounded remarkably like one.”
