way to drive me there, wanting nothing in return.”
“Wow. Nothing, huh? That’s…impressive.” It might have been just another wisecrack, an attempt to be clever, but there was an edge in his humor tonight that didn’t sit well.
Then she considered the source, the hypocrisy on full display.
“I’d be careful if I were you, Mr. Reed,” she said with a thin smile, “judging other reporters for what they’ll do to get ahead.”
At her less-than-playful jab, Ellis’s humor receded. He turned tentative, deciphering. “Meaning…?”
She shrugged. “Meaning, no topic appears out-of-bounds for your shot at a byline these days. Unless I’m missing something on this self-congratulatory wall of yours.”
He threw a glance toward the frames and straightened a little. His drink was no longer moving. “Nothing wrong with being proud. I worked hard for those.”
“And by ‘those,’ I presume you’re referring to all the meaningful stories ‘with heart’ you were hired to cover.”
“What I’m writing,” he told her, “is important.”
“Oh, I can see that—with such titillating pieces on mistresses and mobsters. Although…after tonight, I can safely surmise how and where you’re getting your biggest scoops.”
That one touched a nerve. It was plain on Ellis’s face and in the curtain of silence that dropped between them.
She had gone too far. She knew this. The question was why. In reality, they were no more than distant friends, good acquaintances even. After months apart, how did she feel the right, the need, to state her disapproval?
He stared at her, unflinching. Given his current condition, it was up to her to promote a truce.
“I’m sorry for that. Truly. I shouldn’t have—”
“No. Go on.”
She stalled at his coolness.
“I’m sure as a secretary at the Examiner, you’ve got all kinds of great career advice.”
Lily just sat there, stunned. Though he couldn’t have foreseen their full impact—or perhaps somehow he did—his words pierced holes straight through her pride.
Her mind told her to march out, or lash back at minimum, but the whole exchange left her short on will. Her lone thought was that coming here had been a grave mistake.
Slowly, she set her glass on the table and gathered her gloves and purse. On her feet, she pulled out the envelope she had come all this way to deliver. Now she simply wanted it out of her possession, her duty fulfilled.
“This is for you.” She placed the sealed letter beside her glass, eliminating any chance for their fingers to touch.
Ellis’s features were softening. Awareness, maybe even regret, was setting in. But she refused to meet his eyes.
“It’s about the children in your first feature,” she said, regaining her defenses, her clarity. “If you even remember who they are.”
There was so much more she could say, about what she had learned of that photo. About the damning secret he harbored. About how pictures, like people, so often were not as they appeared.
Instead, before Ellis could speak, she walked out the door.
Chapter 15
Replay the conversation a dozen different ways, and the conclusion was the same: he’d been a righteous jackass.
After Lily’s departure, Ellis had caught a glimpse of that reality before he dozed into oblivion. The following morning, nausea and the pounding in his skull had made thinking of any kind damn near impossible. But as the day had waned and the fog of his memories cleared, he couldn’t escape the shame from his barbs.
Sure, he’d been soused. And yeah, he’d been primed for battle after the row with his father, an exchange steeped in too many layers to process just yet. But mostly, he’d been riled by the mirror in Lily’s words, reflections of himself he’d dodged for months.
Now he couldn’t shake them. On a drizzly Monday afternoon, impelled by the letter she’d delivered, he dug from his desk other reminders of his deed. The city room buzzed around him as he finally opened the small mound of posts. They’d continued to trickle in even after he first started at the Tribune, forwarded from the various papers that had picked up his feature. Each expressed sympathy for the family. Several envelopes held a buck or two.
Before she left, Lily had questioned if he actually remembered the kids. As if he could forget. He’d just shoved them into the deepest caverns of his mind, an attempt to keep his sanity. Their faces, dual symbols of his guilt, had haunted him like ghosts, even in New York. Among kids on the street, in Central Park, at Times Square, he’d see Ruby smiling, laughing, toting a bundle of flowers. He’d see Calvin climbing a tree