Sold on a Monday - Kristina McMorris Page 0,43

a grin. He disappeared inside before Lily collected her resolve, her reasoning, and turned to Ellis. “You have to understand,” she insisted. “The chief never would’ve hired me. And the boardinghouse certainly wouldn’t have been an option if anyone there knew.”

Ellis’s expression indeed held surprise, but with merciful subtlety, absent of judgment. He glanced back toward the deli. “He’s a good-looking boy, your son.”

She hugged her arms to her chest, more than the rain delivering a chill. She was starkly aware of the upper hand she had just surrendered, which perhaps was never rightly hers. “Thank you.”

Silence billowed between them until he asked, “How long have you known, about the kids in the photo?”

“A while.” It wasn’t her intention to be vague. “I kept wondering what troubled you about them, after you came to me. Eventually, I looked closer at the picture that went to press.”

“But you didn’t tell anyone,” he guessed.

She shook her head that she hadn’t. “You wrote a good article. It deserved to be read.” Perhaps unconsciously she’d had another reason: her own experience from compromises made to get by.

She noted her hypocrisy now, judging him as she had—his role in their spat aside. “It’s all in the past anyway. No reason for you to dwell upon what’s done.”

At that, he angled his head away and again kneaded the brim of his hat. There was more to the story.

“Ellis? What is it?”

Dread, like a vine, wound through her, even before he answered. When he did, each word, each imagined scene, sowed further devastation from what had come to pass.

A vacant house.

A mailman’s tale.

A ripple of consequences from the click of a shutter.

Digesting it all, Lily watched a puddle forming on the street. The sky darkened and rainfall thickened. There were too many thoughts and feelings to process all at once.

She looked back at Ellis and couldn’t tell if the mist in his eyes was from weather or emotion, though she suspected it was both.

They would sort this out—they had to. But not out here, not in the rain.

“Come inside,” she said, unsure if he heard her until he closed the car door to follow.

• • •

Tension hovered over the table as the family ate supper with minimal conversation. It didn’t help that Lily and Ellis, though toweled off and mostly dry, still resembled mutts from an alley. Even Samuel’s drawings of family and cakes and sunbursts, taped to the room’s powder-blue walls, failed to lighten the mood.

Lily’s mother had asked Ellis to stay for supper. Based on her tone, however, the invitation was a mere courtesy. If Lily had any doubt, she needed but peek at either end of the table, where her parents exuded as much suspicion as displeasure. The fact that Ellis was seated across from Lily and Samuel, in the chair often reserved for Clayton, made the core issue even more glaring.

To Ellis’s credit, he upheld an amicable front in spite of his quandary.

Foraging for conversation, Lily informed him that her mother had hand-painted the little bunnies on the ceramic meat-loaf dish, rabbits being Samuel’s favorite animal. Ellis was quick to compliment Lily’s mother, on both the dish and the meat loaf. For this, he received the briefest of thanks.

Lily’s efforts to engage her father fared no better, as small talk about baseball only led to his questioning of Ellis. “You a Yankees fan?” His challenging tone didn’t make clear the correct response was yes.

Lily stiffened when Ellis paused from eating. “I’m afraid I’ve been too busy lately to follow the games much. But I understand they’ve got a strong lineup this year.” The diplomacy of his reply, though impressively quick, indicated that if he cheered for any team, it wasn’t the Yankees. Her father’s scowl said this didn’t get past his sensor.

Before Lily could intervene, Ellis swiftly turned to Samuel: “So, you’re a fan of rabbits, huh?”

Samuel kept his gaze low, ever averse to strangers, using his spoon to push through his mound of mashed potatoes.

Lily gently prodded, “Be polite and answer Mr. Reed.”

Samuel rendered a stiff nod.

Lily met Ellis’s eyes, sneaking him a wordless apology—inviting him inside wasn’t meant to compound his troubles—but he came back with a warm smile. Paired with a small shake of his head, he told her not to worry. And so, supper plodded along in the all-too-cozy space. The sounds of drizzling rain and periodic thunder provided their only reprieve until Samuel stifled a giggle.

Lily cut a glance toward her son before tracing his focus across the

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