Then she corrected herself.
"I heard the mother."
The mother folded her arms.
"And?"
"And the older daughter."
The father's attention shifted.
His twelve-year-old daughter.
"Lily?"
The mother's face tightened.
"She wasn't involved."
The nanny continued.
"I heard both of them."
The father looked toward the upstairs hallway.
His older daughter was nowhere in sight.
"Where is she?"
The mother answered quickly.
"In her room."
The father called:
"Lily?"
No response.
He called again.
"Lily!"
The mother touched his arm.
"Leave her alone."
He looked at her.
"Why?"
"Because she's upset."
"About what?"
The mother hesitated.
"Everything."
The father frowned.
"What does that mean?"
His wife exhaled.
"Our daughter almost fell down the stairs."
The father looked toward the second floor again.
"Lily!"
A bedroom door opened upstairs.
Soft footsteps approached.
The older daughter appeared behind the railing.
She was pale.
Her eyes were red.
She held a television remote.
The father stared.
"What happened?"
The older girl looked at her mother.
Her mother looked back.
Something passed between them.
The father noticed.
"Lily?"
The girl gripped the remote.
The mother said:
"Go back to your room."
The girl did not move.
The father's voice softened.
"Sweetheart, come down."
The mother immediately said:
"No."
The father turned.
"No?"
"She's already frightened."
"Then I want her with us."
"She doesn't need to see this."
The older daughter started descending the stairs.
Her mother stared at her.
"Lily."
The girl kept walking.
When she reached the bottom, she looked at her little sister in her father's arms.
"Is she okay?"
The father nodded.
"I think so."
The little girl reached one hand toward her sister.
The older girl touched it.
Then she looked at the nanny.
"You okay?"
The nanny stared at her.
"I am."
The mother shook her head.
"Unbelievable."
The father turned.
"What?"
"You're all acting like she's the victim."
Nobody answered.
The mother pointed toward the nanny.
"She nearly killed our daughter."
The older girl looked directly at her father.
"Dad."
"What?"
"Stop shouting and look at what the camera caught on TV."
The foyer went still.
The father's expression changed.
"What camera?"
The mother answered before the girl could.
"She doesn't know what she's talking about."
The older girl held up the remote.
"The hallway camera."
The father's eyes moved toward the small security camera mounted above the bookcase near the staircase.
He had installed it six months earlier.
Not to monitor the family.
A delivery driver had once claimed a package had been left inside the foyer.
The camera covered the front door, hallway, and much of the staircase.