CHAPTER TWELVE: GIDEON’S BAD NIGHT
The next morning Gideon did not arrive at the scheduled interview.
Talia called Ethan because Gideon had listed him as someone who could be notified of a change in the public meeting arrangements.
“He’s in the hospital,” she said.
“His daughter found him dizzy and confused.”
Ethan felt his stomach drop.
The sight of the old man counting money at the bistro returned with surprising force.
“Is he all right?”
“The doctors are checking him.”
“He asked me to tell you that the hearing should go ahead without him.”
Ethan offered to bring his notes to the hospital.
Talia said Gideon needed rest and that his daughter would decide whether visitors were appropriate.
At noon, Gideon’s daughter called.
Her name was Claire Mercer.
She was a librarian who spoke in complete,
carefully measured sentences.
“My father has spent three days pretending he doesn’t need sleep,” she said.
“He would like to see you for ten minutes.”
The hospital corridor smelled of disinfectant and reheated coffee.
Gideon sat upright beneath a blanket, looking smaller without his jacket.
His hair was white against the pillow.
He smiled when Ethan entered.
“I hear you stirred up another room,” he said.
“Denise did most of that.”
“Good.”
Ethan pulled a chair close to the bed.
“Why were you eating alone that night?” he asked.
Gideon looked at the window.
“My wife used to love the bistro.”
“She died three years ago.”
“I had not gone back since.”
Ethan glanced at the old wallet on the bedside table.
“And the missing money?”
Gideon rubbed his forehead.
“I had given the last of my cash to a man whose car wouldn’t start outside the pharmacy.”
“I didn’t expect a restaurant check to be difficult.”
Ethan laughed softly.
The old man smiled, then grew serious.
“My appointment as receiver does not make me a judge,” Gideon said.
“It allows me to preserve a business while its owners argue over what happened.”
“Victor knows that.”
“He wants everybody to imagine I’m coming to punish him personally.”
Ethan leaned forward.
“Aren’t you?”
Gideon shook his head.
“I called for a temporary closure because he continued selling an event while withholding records about how customers’ names and deposits were being used.”
“The court will decide the wider questions.”
“The families must decide how to respond to the misuse of their memories.”
“And Victor must answer for his own choices.”
Gideon reached for a glass of water.
His hand trembled enough that Ethan took the glass and steadied it.
“You could have ignored all of this,” Gideon said.
“You could have found another job and left.”
“Sometimes I wish I had.”
Gideon looked at him steadily.
“That doesn’t make you cowardly.”
Ethan thought of the unsigned statement Victor had pushed across the cafe table.
“I was scared when he threatened my references,” he admitted.
“I’m still scared.”
“Then don’t pretend courage is comfortable,” Gideon answered.
Claire entered the room carrying a sweater.
“That’s ten minutes,” she said.
Her father raised one finger.
“One more question.”
He looked at Ethan.
“What do you want to do when this is over?”
Ethan considered the question.
“I want to work somewhere I can be proud of serving people.”
“Then don’t let this story end with you waiting for Victor to hire you back.”
Claire held the door while Ethan stood.
He left without promising anything grand.
He only promised to attend the hearing.
