PART 2: The Thing at the Bottom
Vivian’s anger deepened.
She was not used to being embarrassed in public. Certainly not by a child.
Around the table, guests stared without breathing. A woman in pearls pressed her napkin to her lips. A man in a navy suit leaned slightly forward, trying to see what the boy was holding. Servers stopped near the wall, afraid to move.
The boy’s hands shook so badly that the wine trembled inside the crystal glass.
Vivian saw the movement and mistook it for guilt.
“You thought this was funny?” she asked. “You wanted attention?”
The boy shook his head quickly. “No.”
“Then why would you steal my glass?”
His lower lip trembled. He looked at Charles, then back at Vivian.
“Because you were going to drink it.”
Vivian laughed once, but there was no humor in it.
Charles stepped beside her now, his face tightening with concern. “Son, what did you see?”
The boy swallowed.
He slowly lifted the crystal glass between himself and Vivian. The dark red wine moved under the chandelier light, making it difficult to see through the patterned crystal.
Then the boy raised one trembling finger and pointed toward the bottom.
“There’s something in it,” he whispered.
For the first time, Vivian’s rage faltered.
She looked down.
At first, she saw only the wine.
Then the boy tilted the glass slightly.
The red liquid shifted.
Something black appeared at the bottom.
Vivian’s expression changed.
The guests leaned closer.
Charles bent forward, his eyes narrowing.
The boy’s hands trembled harder, but he kept the glass steady enough for everyone near the table to see. Beneath the dark red wine, pressed against the patterned crystal bottom, lay a large black beetle-like insect.
For one long second, no one spoke.
The ballroom that had been filled with soft music and polite laughter became so quiet that the small clink of a fork against a plate sounded loud.
Vivian stared at the glass.
Her lips parted.
Only moments earlier, that same glass had been less than an inch from her mouth.
Charles reached out carefully and took the glass from the boy, holding it up toward the candlelight. The black insect remained visible in the wine, horrifying and unmistakable.
Vivian’s confident posture began to collapse.
She looked at the boy again.
This time, she did not see a rude child.
She saw shaking hands, frightened eyes, and a small face full of desperate honesty.
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He had not been trying to embarrass her.
He had been trying to save her.
