Sold on a Monday

by Kristina McMorris

  “That’s my daughter,” Sylvia pointed out. “She’s lovely, isn’t she?” The prideful glow in her face caused Lily’s throat to tighten, adding a rasp to her reply.

  “She is.”

  “Technically she’s ten, but going on twenty according to her teacher. Always so much going on in that head of hers.”

  Lily was thankful for Claire’s delivery of the tea just then.

  “Oh, Claire, that reminds me,” Sylvia said. “Please tell my sweet girl she needs to practice the piano once more before supper if she wants tapioca tonight. And don’t you dare let her say she’ll simply go without.” Sylvia rolled her eyes in jest and told Lily, “It’s her favorite dessert, so there’s no getting that one past me.”

  Claire politely bowed her head and pivoted to leave. Her footfalls continued through the foyer and up the stairs.

  “To be perfectly honest,” Sylvia said conspiratorially, “as a young girl, I was terrible about practicing. Now wish I’d been more diligent.” She brought her cup and saucer to her lap. “Come to think of it, that might not have helped. I was truly awful. Sadly, I never had the natural ability that my daughter does.”

  An image of Ruby, seated at the piano, materialized in Lily’s mind. The lessons, and certainly the piano itself, weren’t luxuries Geraldine could afford anytime soon.

  Sylvia took a sip of her tea. “I’d gladly ask her to come down and play for you, but this is her special reading time. Once her nose is in a book, I’d have to pry it out. I hope you don’t mind.”

  Lily shook her head, attempting to shed thoughts of Ruby’s happiness here, wanting even more to discard the undeniable sense of liking Sylvia.

  Assuming her husband was similar, no wonder Ellis felt conflicted.

  “I’m much the same,” Lily managed. “When it comes to reading.”

  “Yes, well, there are worse vices a person could have.” Sylvia smiled and took another sip. “Do you have children as well?”

  Lily had to think before answering. Everything about their exchange had left her feeling unprepared. “One. A son.”

  “Oh, that’s lovely.” With a look of wonder, Sylvia rested her cup on her saucer. “Of course, I know boys can be a handful at times, with all that energy bound up in their little bodies. But what father doesn’t secretly want a small version of himself running about? I’m sure your husband is as proud as a peacock.”

  Lily smiled before drowning the truth with Earl Grey. It could have used cream and a sugar cube, but she gulped it down.

  “Now,” Sylvia said, “what else could I tell you about our family? I imagine there are some specifics you need for the article.”

  Lily’s grip tightened around her drink. Whatever Claire had passed along about Lily’s employment or her ties to Ellis, her purpose had been misconstrued.

  The sound of footsteps down the stairs preceded Claire’s return to the foyer, but there was no reason to call her in here to sort out the correction.

  Lily set her cup and saucer aside. The plan to come right out with the issue had been far easier in her head. “I’m actually here today to speak about Geraldine Dillard,” she began.

  A small crinkle formed upon Sylvia’s nose. “I’m sorry… I’m not familiar with her.” There was nothing insincere in the woman’s manner, nor was there any hint of uncertainty.

  Was it possible she had never learned of the name? Had her husband not bothered to ask for such a significant detail?

  Lily didn’t want to insult Sylvia by duplicating her maternal title, but there was no other way to say it. “Mrs. Millstone, Geraldine is the mother of the two children you’re caring for.”

  Sylvia smiled once again, this time with a tinge of sympathy. “I’m afraid you’re mistaken. We have only one daughter. She’s the one I was telling you about.”

  A seed of impatience was sprouting within Lily, hastened by confusion. “Yes, I understand there’s just one girl. But I’m referring to her brother, Calvin. He’s the boy, along with Ruby, that your husband purchased in Pennsylvania.”

  Adopted. Lily realized she had bypassed the more mindful term when a shroud of silence dropped over the room. Sylvia’s lips lowered at this, and her eyes darkened. But not from offense, it seemed. There was a struggle for comprehension. It was like watching the grayest of clouds encroaching on the horizon, a transformation that Lily could actually feel as her own puzzlement inched toward dread.

  Had Alfred Millstone procured the children on his own accord and not shared the circumstances with his wife? How would he have explained Ruby being added to their charge?

  Perhaps as a lone urchin he had found in an alley. Or an orphan inherited from a relative who had passed. In any event, why would Alfred deceive her?

  A sudden crashing noise jolted Lily. A cup and saucer—Sylvia’s—had tumbled to the floor and shattered. An amber puddle spread over marble.

  “Are ya all right, ma’am?” It was Claire, hurrying into the room. A broken piece crunched beneath her shoe as she attended to Sylvia, whose face had gone pale.

  “I…I must…lie down.”

  “Certainly, ma’am. Let me help.” Claire guided her upward and escorted her toward the foyer. In tandem, they plodded up the staircase and out of view.

  Lily was scouring the encounter for rationale when her gaze circled back to the mantel. Slowly, she came to her feet and closed in on the photographs. Beside the center image of Ruby was one of her hugging a doll, and another of her in a garden. The next was a formal portrait of the family—with one thing missing from them all.

  Or more aptly, one person.

  The revelation slid up Lily’s spine, an icy finger, launching a shiver through her veins, and a halting question through her mind.

  Where in heaven’s name was Calvin?

  Part Three

  “There is not a trick, there is not a swindle, there is not a vice which does not live by secrecy.”

  —Joseph Pulitzer

  Chapter 27

  The phone rang on Saturday afternoon.

  In his apartment, Ellis was throwing together a sandwich, a ball game airing on the RCA. Unlike his buddies back home, he was never a die-hard baseball fan, but he’d always be a Pennsylvanian. When the Phillies played, you listened. Especially on days like this, when they were beating the blasted Yankees. Four to two, top of the sixth.

  Another ring.

  Ellis made his way from the kitchen, licking a dab of mustard from his thumb, and realized the caller had to be his mother. He took an extra moment to reach for the handset.

  When he sent her off at the station, he’d agreed to visit soon for supper. Soon being a conveniently vague term. But now, since his father was surely tuned in to the game, something he and Ellis used to do together—meaning they’d listen in the same room—his mother had two hours of free time to mull. And call.

  It was time for Ellis to do his part, to smooth over the cracks in their family’s foundation, to continue on as they had for decades.

  He picked up the phone.

  Only it wasn’t her.

  “Ellis,” Lily said, “I need to talk to you.”

  For a split second, he was happy to hear her voice. But then he registered the greeting. Whatever came next wasn’t going to be good.

  • • •

  For the remainder of the weekend, Ellis racked his memory. He reviewed and reevaluated details he had accepted as fact. Though he’d never actually seen Calvin through the window, he knew he’d heard the boy’s laughter…

  Unless it was part of the radio show.

  But during the interview at the bank, Alfred had spoken of kids, in the plural.

  Or was he referencing children in general? He never did mention that he had a boy and a girl—or any specifics about them at all.

  Still, Ellis refused to believe the worst. When Lily phoned fro
m her parents’ home, just returned from the Millstones’, he’d combed her story for a sensible explanation.

  Maybe an illness had caused Sylvia to grow faint, and a fever jumbled her words. Maybe she just meant Calvin didn’t live there now, as he was off at some prestigious boarding school. With sons of the wealthy, who knew how young they started them out?

  Whatever the case, Ellis convinced Lily to wait on telling Geraldine. No reason to sound an alarm until they learned more. Lily had agreed on the condition that he would act quickly.

  He hadn’t planned to do otherwise. His own apprehension was churning, a slow but relentless motion, as if roasting over a spit.

  The best option was to confront the one person, aside from Alfred, bound to know the truth.

  • • •

  Amid the Monday morning bustle, it wouldn’t be difficult to follow a person unseen. Even in Hoboken.

  Ellis counted on that now as he trailed Sylvia and Ruby from their house. Hand in hand, both looked properly suited for the day. A flared dress and angled hat for Sylvia, a school uniform and yellow hair bow for Ruby.

  But no sign of Calvin.

  The walk lasted around ten minutes, ending at an imposing brick school. Sylvia bent to straighten Ruby’s collar before releasing her into the stream of children, most arriving on their own. Other escorts bore the looks of young nannies.

  Only after Ruby stepped through the doors did Sylvia turn to reverse her path. Ellis maintained his distance across the street. He ventured to guess she’d be back in the afternoon to accompany Ruby home.

  To talk to the girl one-on-one, he’d have to pick his moment.

  A playground abutted the west side of the school. As long as the weather held up—the merging patches of clouds could go either way—an outdoor recess was sure to be on the schedule.

  And so he would wait.

  Apartment buildings strewn through the area were interspersed with the usual stores. At the barbershop, he bought a copy of the Tribune—ironically, the only paper they sold—and parked himself on a bench. From the cobbler shop behind him, wafts of leather and shoe polish escaped with each swing of the door.

  He perused articles to pass the time. The bolded headlines and coveted bylines further reminded him of the daily news meeting that loomed ahead.

  Finally, a burst of high-pitched voices grabbed his attention.

  Students were pouring out of the school, set free to skip and pounce. They fanned out over the playground.

  Ellis abandoned his paper on the bench. As he made his way across the street, he sifted through the young faces as if panning for an elusive nugget of gold. But even a closer scan—over their swinging and sliding, their battles in hopscotch—failed to produce Ruby.

  Then he saw it.

  The yellow hair ribbon.

  Off by herself, on the side edge of the grounds, Ruby was milling beneath an apple tree. It wasn’t nearly as full or sturdy as the one beside her farmhouse, where its branches easily supported her brother and his dangling, but maybe she still found comfort in the similarities it held.

  From behind the tree, Ellis walked up casually, hands in his pockets. It had been too long for her to remember him. He didn’t want to scare her away.

  “Enjoying the quiet over here?”

  Ruby looked up from the leaf in her hand. She shrugged.

  “Don’t want to play with the other kids, huh?”

  She glanced toward her classmates, the shrieking and hollering like a cauldron of glee, and Ellis expected another shrug.

  “Not allowed,” she replied.

  Evidently, it was a quarantine of sorts. Swapping overalls for a uniform must not have tamed the spitfire of a girl he recalled, and honestly, he was glad to hear it. “You’ve been causing some trouble, then,” he said lightly.

  “Got a stain on my sweater. From the teeter-totter.” She pointed toward the seesaw that kids were launching up and down with gusto. “Happened weeks ago, but still can’t go on the thing.” Focusing back on the leaf, she tore off pieces and flicked them aside. Not in a musing way. More of a rigid act steeped in irritation.

  Ellis noted the lone, matronly teacher on recess duty. She was surveying the playground as a warden would a prison yard. It took no effort to imagine her enforcing such a ridiculous penalty. He’d try his best to stay out of her eyeshot.

  “Whatcha doing here anyway?” Ruby asked. “You come to take pictures?”

  It took him a second to process the connection. Impressed, Ellis smiled at her. “I didn’t think you’d remember me.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Just that it’s been a while.” About eight months, incredibly. “And we only met that once… Well, twice, I suppose.”

  “Saw you from my window lots of times, bringing boxes to our porch. Food and things.”

  Another cause for surprise. Each time, he’d parked at the end of the drive, headlights diverted from their windows. Under the veil of night, he thought he’d been sly. “You knew it was me all along?”

  She picked up a fresh leaf and resumed her tearing, a little gentler now. “I’d hear that motor of yours. Sounded like it was hurtin’ something fierce.”

  “Yeah. It was.” Ellis laughed to himself. “Still is.”

  Her cheeks warmed, and a smile he recognized curved her small lips. “I liked the pickled beets you left. The pears too. Could’ve done without the chickpeas.”

  “Didn’t care for the taste?”

  “Oh, I liked ’em going down just fine. It’s the after that was the problem. And I don’t mean from me, if that’s what you’re thinkin’.” She pointed emphatically. “Sharing a bed was no picnic when Cal tooted up a storm. That stink could’ve knocked out a bear.”

  Ellis couldn’t help but laugh again. “That bad, huh?”

  “You wouldn’t think something so big could come out of a person that small, and not just from chickpeas. This other time, my brother took on a dare to…” She stopped there, and her gaze lowered to the ground, her joy vanishing with her words.

  “What?” Ellis pressed gently. “What’d your brother do?”

  She shook her head, adamant. “I don’t got—have—a brother.”

  Ellis peered at her, stunned by the lie. The girl had obviously been coached. He was suddenly as eager as he was fearful to probe further. Bracing himself, he lowered to a squat and met her at eye level. “You know, you first asked me why I came. Well, it’s actually about Calvin. If you have any idea where he went, I was hoping you’d tell me.”

  She curled her bottom lip. Her reluctance was clear, yet Ellis couldn’t let up.

  “The thing is, I swore I’d make sure he’s okay. And I’m trying to keep that promise. But I’m not sure I can without your help.”

  Studying his face, she considered his plea. Quietly she answered, “He’s with Mama.”

  Ellis cocked his head before he distinguished the reference. “You mean Mrs. Millstone? The mother you live with now.”

  “No,” she told him. “My old mama.”

  Now he was truly perplexed. “You’re saying your mama—Geraldine—kept Calvin.”

  After a moment, Ruby issued a nod.

  The claim made no sense. It didn’t line up with accounts from the cabbie and the train clerk, even Geraldine herself.

  “That sure is interesting to hear. See, I was told that you and Calvin rode the train with Mr. Millstone. All the way to California. Then you moved here, to Jersey, with Mrs. Millstone too.”

  Ruby nodded again.

  At the boardinghouse, maybe Ellis had given Geraldine enough details to locate the children on her own. Over the past week, had she reconsidered her stance? Had she managed to take her son back?

  Just then, past Ruby’s shoulder, Ellis saw the teacher starting in his direction. Time was running out. “And what happened ne
xt?”

  “After school one day,” Ruby said, “I got a letter from Mama. I was so excited ’cause I thought she was finally better and it was time to go home. To our farm home.”

  So, the girl knew her mother was sick, maybe all along.

  “What’d the letter say?”

  “That she loved me very much…but…but he could only afford to look after one of us.” Ruby’s voice thinned, and tears welled in her eyes. “Since I’m older, Calvin needed her more. That’s why she’d come to fetch him.”

  The bell rang.

  Recess was over.

  Desperate for a delay, Ellis wished he could comfort her. “Honey, I’ve got to know. Did you ever see your mom? When she came to get Calvin.”

  Ruby shook her head. “It’d be too hard for her. To say goodbye again.”

  “But how do you know? Did someone—”

  “Sir, may I help you?”

  Ellis met the teacher’s grimness with an instant smile. “Morning, ma’am.” Grudgingly he rose. “I was just happening by. As a friend of the family, thought I’d say hello.”

  The woman looked to Ruby. “Is that so?” A strained pause, then the child nodded. Thankfully. “All the same, these are school hours. In the future, your visits would be best kept to the family’s personal time.”

  “Right. I’ll definitely do that.”

  The teacher pivoted sharply on her heels. She flicked her hand toward the other children, all funneling into the school. “Back inside, Victoria!”

  Ruby shot Ellis a final glance before following the order, leaving him astounded once more. The girl was now being called Victoria.

  She’d been stripped not only of her family, but even of her name.

  • • •

  The minute Ellis returned to the paper, he phoned the sanitarium. The director, now aware of Ellis, put Geraldine on the line. Calmly, Ellis asked about a letter to Ruby. No details of its content or other mentions of Ruby’s story, nor of the girl’s renaming.

  Just as he’d feared, Geraldine was at a loss. Ellis sloughed off the letter as an apparent misunderstanding. And her request that followed—asking him to peek in on the kids every so often—further confirmed his suspicions.