the designated home. It was light green with white trim and as perfect as a dollhouse.
Too perfect, she decided.
At the park across the street, children reveled in the rare freedoms afforded by a temperate Saturday morning. The chorus of their giggles, a reminder of Samuel awaiting her return, sent Lily straight up the steps to reach the front door.
After pocketing the address and her traveling gloves, she knocked.
Birds chirped from trees that dotted the area, and a rattling car passed on the street. The possibility of the driver being Ellis—which certainly it was not—caused her palms to perspire. And what for? He wasn’t her father or her boss, and certainly not her beau. She didn’t require his approval to come here. Still, guilt niggled at her.
She pushed it away as she rang the doorbell. A direct appeal to Mrs. Millstone was the answer. She was a fellow mother who understood the loss of a child. With her husband away on business, Mrs. Millstone would be free to meet Lily alone.
Unless she, too, had traveled for the weekend.
Lily clutched her purse, clinging to her hopes. She reached out in a final attempt to ring the bell. Before she made contact, the door opened. A young housekeeper stood in greeting. In a black dress and white apron, she wore her hair pinned up tight.
“Sorry to keep ya waitin’, ma’am.” Her lilting accent pegged her as an Irish immigrant. Fittingly, her pale skin held freckles more pronounced than Lily’s. “I was knee-deep in the wash and was slow to hear the door.”
“That’s quite all right. I’m just delighted somebody’s home.” Lily smiled in partial relief. Even if the lady of the house wasn’t in, the housekeeper would likely know her whereabouts.
The girl smiled timidly in return. She couldn’t have been more than sixteen. “Is there something I can help ya with?”
“There is, in fact. I’ve come to see Mrs. Millstone.”
“Is she…expectin’ ya, ma’am?” Her tone said she doubted that was the case, as the girl would have been alerted to prepare for company.
“She’s not,” Lily affirmed, “but it really is an important matter. You see, I’m an old work colleague of Mr. Reed. I believe he was here recently.” At the girl’s uncertain look, Lily added, “He’s a reporter, from the New York Herald Tribune, and came to speak with Mr. Millstone.”
“Ah, I see,” the girl said. “And you’re with the paper too, are ya?”
“I am. Well…the Philadelphia Examiner, that is.” The girl’s eyes brightened, impressed by this, but Lily remained steadfast. “Is Mrs. Millstone available to speak?”
“I’d be glad to check. If you’ll wait here a minute.”
Lily nodded and soon discovered the estimate wasn’t an exaggeration. After less than a minute of disappearing inside, the housekeeper returned. “The missus would be pleased to receive ya. Do come in.”
In the foyer, the girl offered to take her coat, but Lily politely declined. Given the purpose of her visit, it seemed too casual, too friendly. Moreover, depending on how the conversation went, she might not be welcome for long.
Following the girl over the white marble floor, Lily surveyed the wide, sweeping staircase, the chandelier overhead. The air held an almost sweet, powdery scent. Though Ellis hadn’t been past the front door, he was right about the residence.
But Lily wasn’t here to admire the decor.
Rather, to block out visions of the children running about, unencumbered by the vastness of space, she trained her focus on a darker thought. She considered the disparity of fortunes between bankers and too many of their patrons, those with little choice but to live in shantytowns or to beg on the street.
Or, God help them, to sell their own children.
When the housekeeper entered the parlor, a woman gracefully rose from a claw-footed love seat, ready for a greeting. She appeared to be in her midthirties. In a cream silk blouse and a black A-line skirt, she wore her dark-blond hair sleek around her face, with soft pink touches on her lips and cheeks. A string of pearls looped her neck.
“Ma’am, may I present…” The girl suddenly winced. She had neglected to ask for Lily’s name.
“Mrs. Millstone,” Lily kindly jumped in, “I hope it’s all right to introduce myself. I’m Lillian Palmer. I appreciate you agreeing to meet with me.”
“Call me Sylvia.” She smiled and invited Lily to sit in the ornate chair across from her, its striped upholstery boasting a satiny shimmer. As Lily obliged and set her purse down, Sylvia signaled to the housekeeper. “Claire, some tea for our