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NORMA TELLS ME TO stay where I am, nearly sprints toward the door, comes back with a bottle of water.

She orders me to drink the whole thing, watching while I do.

Then she sits down next to me.

“Did you faint?” she asks.

Another woman comes through the door, sees us next to each other on the floor, promptly leaves.

“I don’t think I lost consciousness,” I say. “I just got dizzy and managed to sit down before I fell down.”

Norma Banks reaches over and pinches my arm, making me wince.

“Don’t lie to me, missy.”

“Okay,” I say. “Maybe I did close my eyes for a second. But I’m fine now.”

“My ass,” the old woman says.

After a few minutes she slowly helps me to my feet, takes me by the arm, and walks us out of the room and up the hallway.

“I can walk on my own, thank you,” I say. “And I do not need to be looked at, if that’s where you’re going with this.”

I knew there was a nurse’s office somewhere in the courthouse, there had been since COVID.

“Not going there,” she says, “even though you probably do need your damn head examined.”

I’m still feeling groggy enough and unsteady enough on my feet, even though I’m not going to admit that to her, to offer much resistance.

“I just need to sit down for a second,” I say.

“Got just the place,” she says.

Then before I realize where she’s taking me, she’s knocking on the door to the judge’s chambers and walking us right in without waiting for permission to enter.

Judge Michael Horton, still in his robe, looks up from his desk, clearly surprised at unannounced visitors, even with Norma Banks leading the way.

“We need a moment, Michael,” she says. “And we’re not in court right now, so please don’t give me any of that Your Honor shit.”

A few minutes later Katherine Welsh has joined us, along with Jimmy Cunniff.

“Norma is overreacting,” I say to Judge Horton.

“Hard to believe a thing like that could ever happen,” he says drily.

“I just had a bit of a sinking spell in the ladies’ room,” I explain.

“Jane needs to take the rest of the day off,” Norma Banks says, “even if she doesn’t think she needs to, Your Honor.”

That gets a smile out of the judge. “Now you cut the Your Honor shit, Norma,” he says to her.

“I’m fine,” I say again. “Really.”

“She fainted,” Norma says. “People don’t faint for no reason.”

I look over at Jimmy. “Help me out here,” I say. “I’ve got this.”

“What you’ve got, pal,” he says in a quiet voice, “is cancer.”

“Be that as it may, I’m well enough to continue,” I say, turning back to Judge Horton.

“Overruled,” Horton says. “We will resume at nine in the morning if you’re up to it. If not, we’ll resume at nine on Wednesday.”

He nods at Katherine Welsh. “I assume that’s acceptable to you, counselor?”

“You know something, Your Honor,” she says, “I feel a touch of the stomach flu coming on, and I’m the one who needs to take the rest of the day, something of which I’m sure you can inform the jury, right before I inform the media.”

“You don’t have to do that,” I tell her.

“I know I don’t,” she says. “But I just did.”

She is the first one to head toward the door. Before she leaves, I say, “Quit trying to make me like you.”

She stops, turns around.

“I’m a cancer survivor, too,” she says, and leaves.