They stopped at the second-to-last door on the left and entered a large bedroom. Holy crap. The entire downstairs of Val’s house—and then some—would fit in here. Val could see why it needed to be so big. This was Bridget’s world. A bed, sitting area with couch, large-screen TV, adjoining bathroom and a table and chairs completed the layout.

A young blonde-haired woman, Bridget, was sitting at the table with a small canvas in front of her and a smattering of paints to her side. She held the brush, and dipped it into several colors, mixing them on a pad before applying it to the canvas.

As Mrs. Morgan entered, Claudia stood from the rocking chair in the corner where she had been reading a book. She said hello to Val and gave a lukewarm smile. Then she glanced at Mrs. Morgan, uncomfortable that Val had been brought in the room. Bridget probably didn’t get many visitors.

“How is she doing?” Mrs. Morgan asked of her daughter.

“Very well today,” Claudia answered. She smoothed out the form-fitting skirt of her dress and adjusted the cardigan on her shoulders.

“Claudia is still Bridget’s main nanny. We don’t tell very many people. Bridget does need constant care, even though she’s thirty-three.”

“Main nanny?”

“She has two more. They come on Claudia’s days off and when Claudia is assigned other duties.” Mrs. Morgan walked over to her daughter and stroked the young woman’s hair. “Watercolors,” Mrs. Morgan said. “She loves watercolors. It’s good therapy for her. Some people thought we should have put her in an institution, that we couldn’t provide the kind of care she needed.” She glanced at Val, her hand still on Bridget’s hair. “My daughter will never set foot in an institution.”

Val walked closer to the table, to Bridget to get a look at what she was painting. It was a garden; complete with trees, flowers, branches. Similar pictures decorated the walls, all obviously painted by Bridget. Bridget seemed unaware anyone was in the room with her. She appeared content to dab paints and apply them to her evolving creation. Suddenly, Bridget stopped her brush strokes and slowly turned her head towards Val. She had no facial expression.

Val smiled and said, “Hello, Bridget, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Bridget, this is Val,” Mrs. Morgan said as she tucked a strand of Bridget’s hair behind her ear. “Would you like to say hello to her?”

Bridget turned her head to her mother. She said nothing, only staring at her with a blank face.

“It’s all right, sweetheart, Val knows you’re saying hello your way. You can paint again if you like.”

As if a switch was turned, Bridget focussed on her canvas again, resuming dabbing the brush in the paints.

“Mrs. Morgan, is it all right if I step aside for a moment,” Claudia asked.