Sold on a Monday

by Kristina McMorris

  “The sanitarium,” Ellis murmured, reconciling the name.

  “The director there did some X-rays for me, and some other tests. We call her Doc Summers, even though she ain’t an official doctor. It’s on account of her that my lungs were finally treated for the right infection. Now that I’m well, she’s even let me stay on to give a hand with other patients.”

  Lily tried to brighten, an offering of support. “I’m sure they’re grateful to have you.”

  Geraldine smiled but with a solemn undercurrent. “It’s been good for me too. Helps to have a purpose, with my husband gone…and now the kids.”

  Tough as an ox, her husband wasn’t sick a day in his life, she had told Lily, until he stepped on a rusted nail. He died of lockjaw a week later, leaving a desperate widow to take in sewing and laundry to scrape by with two children.

  Lily glanced at Ellis, his face dimming with remorse.

  “Why don’t we sit down,” she encouraged him. He gave a half-hearted nod, likely questioning if he was prepared to hear more, but he followed.

  As Lily settled into the chair beside Geraldine, Ellis perched on the tufted settee across from them. Hat upon his lap, he ventured, “Miss Palmer said you wanted to speak with me?”

  “I do,” Geraldine said, but with a look of warning. “I don’t want none of this in the paper. You hear?”

  “Not a chance. You have my word.”

  She studied his face. Appearing satisfied, she sat back stiffly and began. “I told that man the kids weren’t for sale. No matter what he saw in that picture. But he persisted all the same. Put fifty whole dollars on my porch…though I barely noticed at the time.” She shook her head—at either the banker’s stubbornness or the fact she had missed such a thing.

  “I was having more bad days than good ’round then, and just that morning, I’d coughed enough blood to give me a real scare. I was just so tired all the time, and it was only getting worse. And I thought…maybe this was the Lord’s doin’, sending this person to us right then.” Geraldine’s eyes glimmered with moisture. When she dropped her gaze to her worn black shoes, Lily recognized a fear in her, an expectation of being judged.

  “He just had so many reasons,” she went on, “how he and his wife could give the kids a good life. Better than I ever could, sick or not. But they had to stay together—Ruby and Cal. That’s what I told him. I made him swear.”

  The room went quiet for a stretch, save for the crackling of firewood. Ellis noticeably swallowed, and Lily realized then how much her own throat had constricted, in spite of already knowing the story.

  Geraldine gained sudden conviction. “You gotta know. I’d sooner die than spend one cent of that man’s money.” She looked at Ellis, almost daring him to challenge her.

  “I believe you,” he stressed.

  “As do I.” Lily’s voice verged on a whisper.

  Slowly Geraldine nodded, the tension around her mouth relaxing.

  Perhaps not feeling a need to, she made no mention of the old mason jar she had described to Lily: a transparent display of those cursed dollar bills. Each one surely a reminder of a mother’s shame, no matter the reasoning behind her choice.

  Instead, she kept her composure and proceeded with intent. “Now, Mr. Reed,” she said, “when Miss Palmer called, she told Doc Summers you were hunting down what happened to me and my children. Finding out about their new parents and such.”

  “Yes. That’s right.”

  “Well, when you do, when you know more, I want you to tell me. And don’t you worry, I’m not looking to steal ’em back. They’re to stay right where they are, and they’re not to hear about any of this. I just need to know firsthand that they’re safe.”

  Ellis proffered a heavy smile. “I understand.”

  Lily was dumbfounded. She had been certain that the point of Geraldine’s visit was to acquire Ellis’s help, to combine forces to reunite her family.

  Then Ellis added gently, “And I can tell you already, Mrs. Dillard. From everything I’ve seen, they’re being well cared for, just like you hoped.”

  Lily scrambled to absorb his words, his claim that sounded literal. “You actually saw them.”

  Why would he withhold such important news? Was there something he wasn’t saying?

  “It just happened today,” he said quickly, as if sensing her worry. “I tracked them down over in New Jersey.”

  Geraldine looked almost panicked. “They were going to California. Where it’d be sunny and warm. That’s what the man said.”

  Ellis raised a hand to calm her. “It was the truth. He and his wife were living in Long Beach, or thereabouts. Then he got a job at another bank—a big promotion in Jersey—and they moved into a real nice house there.”

  The sudden relief sweeping over Geraldine was palpable. An internal dam, clearly bound by every fiber of her strength, had splintered, sending a rush of tears to her eyes. “So, the kids…they’re doing all right?”

  “I wasn’t able to talk to them,” Ellis said, “but from a distance, Ruby looked happy enough and healthy.”

  “And Cal? He was there with her?”

  “He was. He was even laughing. At some radio program…a western, I think.”

  Geraldine brightened, her son’s giggles clearly echoing in her ear. Though not a minute later, that glow faded. It had to be bittersweet, the knowledge that someone else could so easily bring her son joy. That such a sound would become a mere memory for Geraldine.

  Which was why Lily couldn’t let that happen.

  “Mrs. Dillard, it’s not too late. We can fix this together, I’m sure we can.”

  Geraldine swiped at her eyes and straightened in her chair. Fervently, she shook her head. “There’s nothing that needs fixin’. Life is just how it should be.”

  “But…if you do want them back—”

  “Knowing they’re happy and healthy is all I need.”

  “Well, yes, I understand that. But—”

  “I’ve said my piece.”

  Lily wanted to protest further but refrained. It was painfully clear there was no swaying Geraldine.

  At least, not tonight.

  • • •

  They walked to his car in silence, Lily and Ellis together. Streetlamps and the white glow of a three-quarter moon threw shadows over the pavement. She could have said goodbye from the boardinghouse, sent him off at the front door, but there was more she needed to tell him.

  As though he expected as much, he waited beside his car door with hat held low.

  “Those children should be with their mother. Now that she’s well again, it’s unfair to keep them apart. You must know in your heart she doesn’t actually want to live without them.”

  “Lily, listen…” While spoken softly, there was dissension in his words.

  “Yes, I know. The Millstones have prominence and a fancy home and in all likelihood mean well. Still, you heard Geraldine. She’s working as a caregiver now. She’d find a way to manage.”

  “I’m sure she would.” His agreement sounded genuine. “Unfortunately…it’s just not that simple.”

  “She’s their mother. It is that simple. What could possibly be more important?”

  He released a sigh, as if dreading to voice the answer. “I feel for them, Lily. Trust me, I do. But even if Geraldine demanded them back, I can’t imagine the Millstones handing them over without a fight. They’d have almost everything on their side, including a top-notch lawyer. I’m familiar with enough cases to know that no reasonable judge is going to return the kids to a poor widow.” He added with reluctance, “Especially one who sold them.”

  “They weren’t really for sale, though. You know that.”

  He went quiet, and she worried she had seemed accusatory. That wasn’t her intention. She was only stressing his full knowledge of the situation.


  But then he rubbed the back of his neck, thinking things over. Perhaps sifting through options.

  “Ellis, there must be something we can do.”

  He raised a shoulder, meeting her eyes. “If I thought it would help, heck, I’d pay the legal fees myself. But to take this on, any lawyer worth his salt would have to believe there’s even a remote chance of winning.”

  “So, we’ll build a stronger case.”

  This caused him to smile, and she noted how naive she appeared.

  Maybe in some ways she was, because she absolutely had to believe a solution existed, that the powerful bond inherent between a mother and child could surmount any obstacle separating them. And yet, Lily had also learned how the support of another person, even unexpectedly, could prove far more vital.

  Geraldine needed their help, more than she knew. Ellis couldn’t deny this fact once given a glimpse through Lily’s perspective.

  “If I deserved a second chance,” she told him, “so does Geraldine.”

  He tilted his head, just a fraction, but his attention was fully captured.

  For the first time to anyone but family, she would tell her story.

  Not all of it, mind you. But enough.

  “The summer before my senior year,” she began, “I was staying at the shore with a friend and her family. And I met a boy. He was charming and handsome, and the way he’d look at me…I thought for certain it was love. Of course, I discovered how foolish I’d been when he stepped out with another girl. But it was too late by then…to reverse what I’d done.”

  She let the implication dangle, unwilling to recount the evenings of sweet whispers and strolls on the beach, of chills and hand-holding and kisses that led to more.

  “I was young and terrified. I knew the scandal it could bring my family…and the baby. So, I agreed to give him up.” The reference to Samuel needed no clarification. Ellis’s nod made clear he understood, inviting her to go on.

  “It was the most logical decision in the world. I even wrote a letter for him to read one day, explaining it all.” No message could have been harder to draft, yet she had persisted for everyone’s benefit. “Then he was born, and I took one look at this beautiful, perfect child that was actually part of me, and I couldn’t do it. The papers were already signed, but I begged and pleaded anyway. If my father hadn’t stood up for me, and for Samuel, the adoption agency would have taken him. And I’d have made the biggest mistake of my life.”

  In the darkness, Lily could still see the scenes playing out. They were silent images, like a Chaplin picture projected on a screen. As they blurred and faded, she dragged her gaze back to Ellis, her sudden dread of judgment akin to Geraldine’s.

  Thus, the acceptance she found—in the depth of his eyes, in his whole bearing—meant more than he could have imagined. “So, you understand now?”

  He affirmed as much by the tenderness of his smile. “I do.”

  A sense that he was coming around buoyed her hopes. “The Dillards belong together, Ellis.”

  “And…to make that happen, they’ll need help,” he finished.

  “Precisely.”

  In that way, they were no different from a family like the Lindberghs, she realized. Only, for Geraldine, there was no bloodhound team of officers and agents working day and night. No hefty savings to offer as a reward or to entice a trade. No prominent name to incite national headlines. All she had was Lily and Ellis and the truth of what was just.

  If at all within their power, how could they not try?

  Chapter 25

  “Mr. Reed, a moment.” Mr. Walker’s thin drawl didn’t do much to soften his ominous tone.

  Like the rest of the group, Dutch was breaking from the daily news meeting, but he paused to flash his clenched teeth at Ellis. The gesture surely meant Hang in there, buddy—though it felt more like Pal, you’re in for it.

  Probably because that was just what Ellis was telling himself.

  When Mr. Walker had skipped over him while asking for updates around the circle, Ellis was relieved at first, as he still had no big project in the works. Not one for the public anyway. But then he’d caught a smirk from Mr. Tate, indicating that bypassing Ellis wasn’t an oversight.

  “Follow me.” Mr. Walker now led Ellis through the standard chitter of the city room and into the privacy of the meeting room. The space was limited to a plain, rectangular table surrounded by well-worn chairs. Every wall was left bare, save for a single working clock. Aside from paper and ink, it was the greatest necessity in the business.

  As Mr. Walker closed the door, Ellis peeked at the time. Half past one. Despite last night’s drive to and from Philly, he wasn’t weary enough to forget his two o’clock with Mr. Millstone. For any chance of making it, he had to leave soon. A prospect that wasn’t looking good, based on Mr. Walker’s folded arms, his jutted jaw. Add a gun belt and a silver star to the man’s suit, and he could pass as a southern lawman reaching his diplomatic limit.

  Ellis prompted, “Is something wrong, sir?”

  “I was planning to ask you the same. Because for the life of me, I can’t fathom where your head’s been lately.”

  Ellis doubted that was true. Mr. Walker appeared to have a very clear idea about which body cavity Ellis had been using to store that particular part. But since cracking a joke in that regard wasn’t going to help, he merely listened.

  “Early on, I did have some reservations about bringing you on board. But then you found your stride. Broke some solid stories.” Mr. Walker paused then, and Ellis wanted to cut to the end as much as he dreaded it. “If you have some notion, however, that a couple of bylines means you can sit back on your haunches—especially at your level of salary—you’re going to be gravely disappointed.”

  The nature of Ellis’s generous raise had always carried a backroom-handshake feel. Apparently the paper’s accountant wasn’t the only other staff member aware of the specifics.

  “I assure you, sir, I don’t think that at all. In fact,” Ellis reminded him, “I volunteered just yesterday to write up a piece about the beer bill.” After everything that had happened since, it was hard to believe that only a day had passed.

  “Ah, yes. The mystery piece.”

  Ellis puzzled over the description.

  “You know…a mystery. When logic tells us something should be there, but for some reason it never appears.”

  “But, sir. If you recall, I punched out that piece in plenty of time for deadline.” Ellis had actually finished it before his mother surprised him with a visit, had even gotten approval right after.

  “Okay. Then who’d you leave it with?”

  Ellis hated to assign blame, but he remembered clear as rain. Before departing early for the bank, he’d gathered his belongings, and on his way out, he handed his pages off to…

  Except…he hadn’t. The damn things were still in his satchel.

  “Christ.” He ran a hand over his eyes.

  “Well then. Assuming you’re not trying to claim the Almighty is responsible, sounds like we settled that issue.”

  Ellis pointed toward the door. “I’ve got that article right at my desk. I can grab it right this second.”

  “It’s done,” Mr. Walker said. “I had Hagen write it up. You were nowhere to be found. An increasingly recurrent theme, it seems.”

  The article wasn’t urgent. Reassigning it, specifically to the eager rookie with a billion ideas, was a bold flag of frustration.

  Ellis lamented the flub, but not nearly as much as being viewed as a shirker. “I’m sorry, Mr. Walker. I do value my job, honest. Like I mentioned before, I just had some personal matters that needed my attention.”

  “So do we all, Mr. Reed. And if that warranted perpetual free passes, we wouldn’t have a paper. Besides, we’re in the news business here. I don’t have to explain to you the importance of perce
ption.”

  Nope, he really didn’t. Misperceptions were just what had led Ellis into the current mess with Lily and Geraldine and Alfred Millstone.

  The thought pulled Ellis’s eyes toward the clock, his editor’s lecture droning on until the room broke jaggedly into silence.

  Mr. Walker’s gaze turned steely. “You have somewhere else to be right now?”

  Ellis could still postpone the appointment. Given how it came about, though, he doubted he’d get another shot. And a one-on-one meeting could reveal just enough details to help those kids.

  “Across the river,” he hazarded. “For an interview.”

  Mr. Walker considered this, and Ellis feared an inquiry over specifics. Instead, the editor cast him an unreadable look before opening the door. “Then I suggest you get going.”

  • • •

  Those parting words normally would have scratched at Ellis’s mind. He would have reviewed them for intent, for a sign of finality. A message that he needn’t bother to return. But all he could think of now, as he drove toward Century Alliance, was that every resident on Manhattan Island had ventured out for an afternoon drive, enticed by the moderate spring weather.

  Within seconds of pulling up to the bank, he was parked and sprinting toward the entrance. A drop of sweat slid from his hat.

  “No running,” the guard inside growled, slowing Ellis to a brisk walk.

  He maintained his pace up the stairs, glad nobody stopped to question him, and introduced himself to the lone secretary stationed outside three executive offices. She had a graying helmet of hair and wore a blouse with a puffy bow below her chin. On the door closest to her desk, the frosted-glass pane was marked Alfred Millstone.

  The woman made a show of peering over her bifocals at the oversize wall clock—he was twenty minutes late, according to its Roman numerals—before she perused a scheduling book. Ellis remembered her. Via the teller downstairs, she was the one who’d declined his prior request to meet with Mr. Millstone. Now it was sorely evident she might turn him away again, on principle alone.

  He was about to explain himself when she rose from her chair. “This way.”