Sidney had spruced himself up considerably for the ordeal of meeting Gareth’s mother. He had put on one of Vance’s Christmas-­present dress shirts, a knit tie of neutral color, his dark hair was combed wet, and at the last Vance had insisted on manicuring his nails—Sidney always had had a tendency to keep his nails poorly, with black dirt under them, and the thumb nails more apt than not to be broken. His blue eyes shining in contrast to his extremely dark complexion gave him today a calm handsomeness and purity which was inconsistent with the epithet ex-­convict.

Mrs. Vaisey did not keep him waiting long for, contrary to rumor, she was not grand at all; and the story that she was rich merely because she lived in a mammoth mansion was inaccurate. The threat of foreclosure hung over her, and since Gareth’s accident, she came to realize that although she had constantly scolded him in years past with his immaturity, when the time came he was no longer himself, she realized then it had been he who had kept at the account books and prevented her from being outright ruined and bankrupt.

Gareth’s mother spoke to Sidney without embarrassment or self-­consciousness and there was no hint or mention on her part as to where he had been for over four years, and Sidney also felt that perhaps, since she seemed so scatterbrained and forgetful, that she might not really know he had been in prison. So he insisted on telling her at the very beginning of their conference.

“Dr. Ulric has told me all I need know about you,” Mrs. Vaisey had affirmed, thus closing any further discussion of this matter.

She was a much younger woman than he had expected, certainly under forty. Her blonde hair looked untouched by gray, at least in this soft light of the old house; her complexion was a rich creamy color, and the only jarring aspect to her appearance was her hands, which showed the effect of hard work so that one would have thought despite her having hired help she did her own dishes and scrubbed her own floors.

He could tell she was satisfied with him, and she said as much, but though she spoke of Gareth constantly and told of their visits to New York and Chicago to see famous specialists, and complained of the cost, she was, he felt, about to dismiss him for today without having let him look in on his “charge.”

“Can I see Gareth now, Mrs. Vaisey?” Sidney finally came to the point.

She looked a bit displeased at this, or rather, hurt. He on the other hand feared that perhaps he was to be hired because of Gareth and yet—who knows?—not be able to set eyes on him.