Father's head jerked back as if struck, and with the momentum, he collapsed to the floor with a resounding thud.
Alan, who had been clutching the brass flower crown in his hand, had flung his arm sideways and hurled it diagonally upward with all his might.
The brass paperweight, freed from his grip, flew through the air like a frisbee, striking Father's temple as he had bent over, glancing behind him to sit down.
Father fell, the chair tipped over, and the four-leaf clover crown paperweight rolled away with a heavy clunk.
A split second after the cacophony ceased, an almost weightless silence filled the room. Everyone froze in place, and Gloria, concealing her mouth with her hand, allowed a faint smile to surface behind it.