Chapter 2 - THE NAME SHE REMEMBERED
Harper continued signing before she could lose her nerve.
Are you all right?
Beatatrice wiped beneath one eye with the side of her finger.
Embarrassed. Angry. Mostly tired.
Harper understood that answer more deeply than she wanted to.
You did nothing embarrassing.
Beatatrice glanced toward Greg.
He did.
Harper nodded.
Behind her, the room remained unnaturally silent.
Roman had released Greg, but the waiter had not moved.
Neither had Roman.
Harper could feel his attention between her shoulder blades.
Beatatrice looked at the menu again.
Then she gave Harper an almost mischievous smile.
What is the duck actually like?
Harper nearly laughed.
She had never tasted anything on Laura’s dinner menu. Employees ate family meal in the basement at four-thirty, usually pasta, chicken thighs, or whatever Chef Thomas needed to use before it went bad.
Still, she had heard Greg describe the dish a hundred times.
Very rich. Crispy skin. Cherry sauce. Tiny vegetables arranged like they are afraid of each other.
Beatatrice laughed again.
This time Roman moved.
He returned to his chair.
“Would somebody like to tell me what my mother just said?”
Harper turned.
Up close, Roman’s expression was harder to read than she expected.
He was still furious.
But not at her.
“She asked about the duck.”
“And?”
“I told her the truth.”
One corner of Beatatrice’s mouth lifted.
Roman noticed.
Something in his face eased.
“Sit down,” he told Greg.
Greg blinked.
“Sir?”
Roman pointed toward the empty chair beside the service station.
“You wanted to communicate with my mother. Try again.”
Greg went pale.
Harper immediately understood what Roman intended.
“Don’t.”
Roman looked at her.
The bodyguards looked at her too.
Harper wondered briefly whether her ability to recognize terrible ideas was going to get her killed.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t humiliate him for humiliating her.”
Greg stared at Harper.
Roman’s eyes narrowed.
“He deserves consequences.”
“Yes.”
Harper swallowed.
“But if your mother spends the rest of dinner watching you punish somebody because of her, then he still gets to ruin her evening.”
Beatatrice had been watching Harper’s face.
She understood enough.
She tapped the table firmly.
Then she signed toward Roman.
She is right.
Roman exhaled through his nose.
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Then he looked at Greg.
“Apologize to my mother.”
Greg immediately faced Roman.
“I’m incredibly—”
“To her.”
Greg stopped.
Slowly, he turned toward Beatatrice.
This time he did not shout.
He did not exaggerate.
He waited until she was looking directly at him.
“I’m sorry.”
Beatatrice read his lips.
Greg pointed toward himself, then pressed one hand against his chest.
“I was rude.”
He shook his head.
“Wrong.”
Beatatrice studied him.
Then she nodded once.
Not forgiveness.
Acknowledgment.
It was enough.
Roman sat down.
“You still have a job because she asked me not to ruin her dinner.”
Paul made a strangled sound from the archway.
Greg managed, “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me.”
Greg looked at Beatatrice.
“Thank you, ma’am.”
Then he walked away.
Harper reached for the water pitcher.
Roman stopped her.
“Where did you learn?”
She knew exactly what he meant.
“My brother.”
Beatatrice’s expression changed immediately.
Your brother is deaf?
Harper hesitated.
Was.
The warmth left Beatatrice’s face.
Harper looked down at her hands.
His name was Leo.
Beatatrice went completely still.
Harper noticed it instantly.
So did Roman.
“What?”
Beatatrice’s eyes moved slowly back to Harper.
Then her hands rose.
Leo what?
Harper frowned.
Hayes.
Beatatrice’s breath caught.
Roman leaned forward.
“Ma?”
Beatatrice ignored him.
Her hands moved faster now.
Leo Hayes? Brown hair? Blue hearing aids? He loved trains and drew terrible horses?
Harper forgot how to breathe.
Nobody outside their family remembered the horses.
Leo had insisted every animal he drew was a horse, even when they resembled dogs, refrigerators, or angry potatoes.
“How do you know that?”
Her voice came out louder than she intended.
Beatatrice stared at her.
Then, with trembling fingers, she opened the small black handbag resting beside her chair.
She removed a worn leather prayer book.
Inside it was a folded piece of paper softened by years of handling.
Roman looked confused.
“I’ve never seen that.”
Beatatrice unfolded it.
Harper saw the blue crayon first.
A woman stood beneath a crooked yellow sun wearing a bright red coat.
Beside her was a child with enormous blue circles over his ears.
At the bottom, in uneven block letters, someone had written:
LEO H. AGE 9
Harper sat down without realizing she had done it.
“My brother drew that.”
Beatatrice touched the paper.
Then she touched her heart.
Harper looked from the drawing to the older woman.
“You knew Leo.”
Beatatrice nodded.
Her eyes were wet again.
Every Thursday for almost two years.
Harper felt as though the restaurant floor had shifted beneath her.
“My family never mentioned you.”
Beatatrice’s face tightened.
Roman noticed.
“What aren’t you saying?”
His mother looked at him for a long moment.
Then she turned back to Harper.
Your mother knew me.
Harper shook her head.
“No.”
Beatatrice nodded.
After Leo died, I went to your home.
Harper’s stomach tightened.
“My mother would have told me.”
Beatatrice’s hands slowed.
She would not let me inside.
The words landed harder than Harper expected.
Beatatrice reached beneath her blouse and pulled out a thin silver chain.
A small blue glass bead hung beside a simple rosary medal.
Harper stared at it.
Leo used to make bracelets from those exact beads at St. Clare Deaf Center.
Beatatrice held it carefully between two fingers.
Leo gave me this.
Harper’s eyes burned.
“When?”
Beatatrice looked toward Roman.
Roman’s expression changed before his mother even answered.
He knew.
Harper saw it.
Beatatrice signed slowly.
The night he died.
Harper turned toward Roman.
His jaw had gone rigid.
“What does she mean?”
Roman said nothing.
Beatatrice reached across the table and covered Harper’s hand with her own.
Then she signed the sentence that made Harper’s entire past split open.
Leo did not die alone.
May you like
She looked at her son.
Roman was with him.
