The sharp sound of Toby's leather shoes echoed wildly against the marble walls. High-society guests gasped and parted like a red sea as the young boy dashed past crystal tables and tall champagne towers.
Richard: Security, stop him! Don't let him near the main entrance!
Toby: Stay away from me! Let me go!
Near the double oak doors leading to the kitchen corridors stood Clara, a twenty-eight-year-old maid dressed in a plain black uniform and a crisp white apron. She was holding a heavy silver tray laden with crystal wine glasses. Hearing the commotion, she turned her head just in time to see the small boy sprinting directly toward her.
Clara: Oh goodness! Toby, sweetie, slow down!
Toby: Mommy! Mommy!
Toby threw his arms around Clara's waist with all the strength in his small body, burying his face into her white apron. The sudden impact knocked the silver platter straight out of Clara's hands. It crashed onto the floor with a deafening metallic clatter, shattering half a dozen wine glasses into tiny glittering shards across the aisle.
Evelyn: Oh my heavens! Look at the mess that careless maid made!
Victoria: Did that child just call the hired help his mother?
Clara ignored the gasps of horror from the wealthy crowd. She dropped directly to her knees right beside the broken glass, ignoring the sharp fragments near her dress, and wrapped her arms tightly around the trembling boy.
Clara: Hush now, baby boy. I'm right here. I've got you. You're safe.
Toby: Mommy, please take me away from here! They're so mean to me!
Clara: Shh, take a deep breath, sweetie. I won't let anyone hurt you.
Richard: What is the meaning of this insolence? Get your hands off my son right now, girl!
Richard stormed down the hall, his face red with sudden rage, his boots crunching lightly over the shattered glass near the doorway.
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