“A Diet Coke, please,” I said.

“Lady Zhorzha, what drinkest thou?”

“I already have—” Zee picked up a plastic water bottle, but it was empty. “Just water is fine.”

“How are you doing, hon?” I said, after Gentry left.

“They’ve got her hooked up to a bunch of monitors to see what’s going on. They don’t think it was a heart attack. Maybe it was a panic attack.”

“Under the circumstances, that would not surprise me. I imagine I would have a panic attack if I’d been through what your mother has. I saw on the news, about the other woman. The other hostage.”

Zee nodded and fidgeted with the tassel on her purse zipper. We weren’t talking when Gentry returned with drinks from the vending machine, and he wouldn’t add to the conversation if there was food. He ate the way he always did, with his full attention. Like he was getting paid for the work. Zee took a few bites of her sandwich, but she was distracted.

“Miss Trego?” It was one of the nurses. “If you want to come back, I think we’re going to be able to discharge your mother soon.”

Zee jumped up, and in that way everything goes wrong on the same day, her purse fell off her lap and spilled all over the floor.

Gentry immediately stood up, so he was paying attention. He looked at her things scattered around on the linoleum, but he didn’t look at her. I did. I recognized the expression on her face from the years I’d spent working for the family court. Not panicked, but resigned to the world heaping misery on her.

“You go on,” I said. “We’ll pick this up.” She hesitated, one hand going to push her hair back, the other patting at her front pockets for something. Then she turned and followed the nurse.

After Zee was gone, we gathered up her things and put them back in her purse. Gentry picked up with one hand, while he rested his other hand on the back of his neck. Not stimming yet, but thinking about it.

“How are you doing?” I said, but he only nodded. Tired, I imagined, and overwhelmed. “Are you going down to Bryn Carreg tonight?”

“I know not, for I would not leave the lady.” He looked at his watch, probably thinking about how late in the day it was. It said a lot about his commitment to being there for Zee. He went down to his keep every weekend that he could. It was our compromise on knightly adventures. Out in the woods, but somewhere safe, so that we knew where he was.

Zee came back a few minutes later, frowning at some paperwork, and said, “What a goddamn nightmare.”

“Is there anything I can do for you? Or for your mother?” I said.

“Did he tell you?” Zee swiveled to look at Gentry, but he didn’t answer, so she looked back at me.

“Well, he told me the police searched your mother’s house and impounded your car,” I said.

“And I got fired and evicted. This week has been a real shit show, but at least Marcus is in school, so he didn’t have to see any of it.” Zee gave a pathetic little laugh and took a sip from her bottle of water.

“My lady, if thou wilt, thou and thy nephew aren welcome in all ways to come with me to my keep,” Gentry said.

I thought it was nicely done, but I felt that twinge again, of being proud of him and a touch scared, too. This wasn’t the first time he had risked himself on another person, and so often it ended in disappointment.

“Or if you don’t feel like camping, you’re both welcome to keep staying with us,” I said.

“I don’t know what to do about my mother,” Zee said.

“What in the world makes you think you need to do anything about me?” That was Zee’s mother, who’d arrived in one of those extra-wide wheelchairs, pushed by a nurse who looked like he’d been a linebacker in high school. He was a little darker than my son Carlees, but with one of those wild black beards.

“This is your daughter?” he said.

“One of my daughters,” Mrs. Trego said. “The one who made me come to the hospital even though I told her it was just heartburn.”

“The hell you did,” Zee said. “You were clutching your chest and saying I can’t breathe.”

“So melodramatic. And I told you. I told you it wasn’t LaReigne. A mother knows.”

“I know. You were right.”

I could see they were both exhausted, but Mrs. Trego had a fierceness in her eyes. Something like anger and triumph. I thought they might hug each other, but Zee went to get her purse from Gentry. Mrs. Trego put her hands on the chair arms and made a motion like she intended to stand up, but I don’t think she could without assistance. Of course, Gentry hadn’t told me how big she was, because it didn’t occur to him. Like it hadn’t occurred to him to tell Elana that Zee had pretty hair. Elana had asked and he’d answered, Is her hair pretty? Yea, ’tis pretty. If I had asked about Zee’s mother, he would have answered, but he wouldn’t think to offer the information on his own.

“I can walk from here,” Mrs. Trego said.

“No, ma’am, you cannot,” the nurse said. “Hospital policy requires you to get a ride out the front doors.”

“I’ve got to make a call,” Zee said, looking at her phone. “She’s eligible for paratransit, but I didn’t know she’d be ready to go so soon, or I would have called them already.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Mrs. Trego said. “I’m not a charity case!”

“It’s not charity, Mom. It’s fucking social services, okay?”

“Excuse me,” someone said behind me. I turned around to find a white man frowning at me. “Could she please watch her language?”

“Everyone deals with stress in their own way,” I said. “And I know the Lord didn’t send you here today to lecture her about her language.”

“It’s just that we have children here.”

“Maybe this is not the best place for children then.” Before he could answer, I turned back to Zee. “If it helps at all, I’m here in our van. It has a lift and a ramp for Elana’s chair so it’s more than equipped. It’s no trouble.”

“And who are you?” Mrs. Trego said.

“Oh god, I’m sorry.” Zee stuffed her phone back in her purse and made a little gesture between me and her mother. “This is Charlene Frank. This is Gentry’s mother. This is my mother, Dorothy Trego.”

“Gentry’s mother?” For a moment I thought maybe Mrs. Trego had met Miranda, too, but no, her confusion was the usual sort. But you’re black and he’s white! Or when I met Trang’s friends: But you’re black and he’s Asian!