“Well then,” she said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” She pivoted toward Clayton, who held out his arm as if to make a show of it. She had progressed but a few steps when Ellis responded.
“Actually, that’s pretty doubtful.” His tone had gained density, a forthrightness that turned her head. “See, I’ve got a lot of packing to do. For the big move.”
All Lily could do was stare at him as Clayton took the bait.
“Move, huh? Where to?”
“Got an offer from New York. From the Herald Tribune.”
Ellis seemed to be waiting for a reaction—any reporter at the Examiner would be downright envious—but Clayton’s mouth surprisingly slid into a grin. “Yeah? How about that.” He even congratulated Ellis with a hearty handshake.
It took Lily a conscious effort to mirror their joy. She despised the acute sting of Ellis’s choice. Though only a few hours away, New York City—dubbed “the Big Town” for many a reason—entailed the start of another life. And leaving the rest behind.
Regardless, when the men’s hands separated, she offered, “In that case, Mr. Reed, I wish you the best of luck.” Then to Clayton: “We ought to get on the road, didn’t you say?”
“After you,” he replied, and she led him toward the exit, barring herself from looking back.
Chapter 11
It was dim of Ellis to hesitate. No reporter with an iota of sense would have turned down the famed Herald Tribune.
Sure, his decision would have been easier without the hindrance of his conscience. Lily had been right about the source of his guilt, of his success being built on the hardships of others, but that was only the half of it. The Tribune editor’s raves, particularly about the photo of the Dillards, had reminded him of the truth. Or, rather, the lie.
He’d longed to tell this to someone, and not just anyone. To Lily Palmer. How the picture of those kids was meant to be a single rung on the rise of his career. How instead, although it shouldn’t, that photograph suddenly felt like the whole ladder.
There was something about her that told him she’d understand, an underlying connection. At least he had thought so until Clayton’s interjection made the situation all too clear. In that moment, reflexive pride had spurred Ellis to decide about the job. Once the words were out, he couldn’t very well take them back. Even if he could, why should he? The move to New York was just what he needed. Before long, any memory of Lily and the Dillard kids would fade far into the distance.
Ellis told himself this as he geared up to phone the chief to make it official. He braced for a rant over a perceived show of disloyalty or ingratitude. While the man did mutter over the inconvenience, he ended up wishing Ellis well, even tinged with sincerity.
It couldn’t have hurt that the actual Society editor was finally set to return in the coming weeks. Plus, a day rarely passed when a writer—aspiring or seasoned, man or woman—didn’t swing by the Examiner on a hunt for an opening. As the saying went, only first-ranked reporters were irreplaceable—until they were replaced.
Ellis’s father would reinforce as much with relish, if given the chance. That was precisely why Ellis prevented him the opportunity. After all, it was a time of celebration. When it came to sharing his news, he’d deliberately called during the workday to reach only his mother. Oh, sweetheart, we’re just so proud of you, she’d said, bubbling with excitement. For an instant, he almost believed the plurality in her claim.
Within four days of accepting, he’d packed up his belongings—a minimal task if ever there was one—prepared his clunker for the drive, secured an unseen apartment in Brooklyn, and off he went.
Of course, one peek at his tenement would have quelled his mother’s enthusiasm. For yet again, a single toilet accommodated an entire floor of renters, the walls were as thin as gauze, and tailed critters enjoyed occasional visits. But much improved over the last, his room had a real desk and chair, a bed mostly free of lumps and creaks, and a kitchenette with a sink that ran hot and cold water. Hell, a person could spin with arms spread wide and not risk scraping a single wall. And as a perk, with immigrants of all varieties as neighbors, if Ellis ever got the itch, he could take up just about any foreign language he pleased.