I pick up the boxes, thoughts swimming in my head. Lois’s and Paolo’s voices fade into the distance as I knock on Mercedes’s door. As usual, there’s no answer, so I open it and enter. It’s unlocked now. Has been for two weeks. But I’m not sure she’s left it apart from when I take her to the stables in the morning or when Lois comes to get her for dinner in the evening. Miriam still delivers breakfast and lunch, which Lois prepares, but those trays go back untouched.

“Good evening,” I say as I enter. I set the boxes down on the table by the door.

Mercedes has a chair pulled up to the open window and is sitting with a heavy sweater wrapped around her, her knees tucked up under her. She doesn’t bother to turn around or acknowledge me.

It's raining and colder than usual tonight. It’s been raining for the past few nights, and the prediction is for more wet, gloomy, and cold weather in the next few days.

“It’s too cold to have your window open,” I say when she shudders at a gust of wind. I move to close it. “If you want fresh air, let’s get a jacket on you, and we can go for a walk.”

I look down at her, waiting for her to reply. And it takes all I have to tamp down whatever the fuck it is that seems to be creeping up from my gut to my chest, casting a shadow over everything.

“Mercedes? Would you like to go for a walk?”

She blinks, slowly, so slowly. She drags her gaze from the window to me as if she’s just realized I’m here. Just noticed I closed the window. She takes a breath in, looks away, and shakes her head. She gets up, makes a point of walking in the narrow space between the chair and the wall to avoid having to pass close to me, and gets into bed.

“It’s early for bed,” I tell her.

“I’m tired.”

“You need to eat dinner.”

“Tomorrow.” She turns her back to me and pulls the blankets up high.

I pick up the boxes and walk around to the other side of the bed so I can see her face. “I have a gift for you,” I say, trying to inject a smile into my words.

Nothing.

I set the large, embossed gold boxes down on the bed. They’re from a specialty shop in town. I’m sure she recognizes them, but her eyes are still blank.

“I didn’t see any riding clothes in your closet, and since you used to enjoy it, I thought I’d order you some. I hope I got the size right. And if you don’t like something, we can, of course, exchange it. They’re especially made for you.”

Nothing.