Chapter 2 - THE DAUGHTER HE COULDN'T FIND
"My mother's name is Mara Miller."
I said it quietly, because the man standing in front of me looked as though one wrong word might make him fall apart.
Nathaniel Graves didn't answer.
His eyes moved from my face to the pink eviction notice, then back again.
"Mara Miller," he repeated.
"Yes, sir."
"Has she always used that name?"
I frowned.
"What do you mean?"
He rubbed one hand over his mouth.
Behind him, the guards remained motionless. The receptionist had stopped pretending to work.
"Ruby," he said, lowering himself onto one knee, "does your mother have a little silver necklace? Something shaped like a bird?"
My stomach tightened.
Mom had a necklace exactly like that.
She kept it inside a small wooden box beneath her bed. Sometimes, when she thought I wasn't watching, she took it out and held it against her chest.
"How do you know about Mommy's necklace?"
Nathaniel closed his eyes.
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Then he stood.
"Marcus."
A broad-shouldered man with a narrow scar across his chin stepped forward.
"Yes, sir?"
"Take that eviction notice. Find out who issued it, who owns the property, and who authorized the removal."
Marcus reached toward my backpack.
I pulled away.
"It's Mommy's paper."
Nathaniel immediately raised his hand.
"Nobody takes anything from her without asking."
Marcus stopped.
Nathaniel looked at me.
"May I see it, Ruby? I promise you'll get it back."
I hesitated.
Mom always warned me not to trust strangers, especially strangers wearing expensive suits.
But this stranger looked more frightened than I felt.
I handed him the notice.
He unfolded it carefully.
The paper was cheap, with uneven black printing and a small silver key stamped beside the words BELLWETHER PROPERTY GROUP.
Nathaniel stared at the symbol.
"Impossible," he whispered.
Then he turned toward Marcus.
"Bellwether was dissolved twelve years ago."
Marcus examined the page.
"Apparently someone reopened it."
Nathaniel's jaw tightened.
"Without telling me."
That was when I noticed the receptionist watching us with a strange expression.
Her nameplate said LENORA PRICE.
"Mr. Graves," she began, "I didn't realize the child was connected to—"
"Neither did I," he interrupted.
Then he looked at me.
"Have you eaten today?"
I shook my head.
"Breakfast?"
"Toast."
"What about lunch?"
I looked down at my sneakers.
"I used my lunch money for the bus."
"To bring me my wallet?"
I nodded.
Something changed in his expression.
He turned to Lenora.
"Please bring her something to eat."
Lenora hurried away.
Nathaniel reached into his jacket, but I immediately stepped backward.
"Please don't give me money."
He stopped.
"Why not?"
"Because I didn't bring your wallet for a reward."
His face softened.
"I understand."
I wasn't sure he did.
People with shiny shoes and expensive watches probably didn't understand what nine hundred dollars meant to somebody whose mother counted quarters before buying milk.
But Nathaniel surprised me.
He sat on the marble bench beside the reception desk.
"Then perhaps you could sit with me for a minute."
I climbed onto the opposite end.
He kept a respectful distance.
"How old are you?"
"Eight."
"And your mother?"
"Thirty-three."
His fingers tightened around the wallet.
"Does she ever talk about her family?"
"Not much."
"Her father?"
I shook my head.
"She says some people are better loved from far away."
Nathaniel looked down.
For the first time, I noticed his hands were shaking.
"Does she say that?"
"Sometimes."
He stared toward the windows.
Twelve years ago, he explained, someone he loved had walked out of his life.
He had searched everywhere.
Hospitals. Shelters. Small towns. Places where people went when they wanted to disappear.
He'd hired investigators and paid for advertisements that were never answered.
"Why did she leave?" I asked.
His expression became tired.
"Because I gave her reasons."
That answer made more sense to me than he probably expected.
Mom sometimes said people didn't disappear because they stopped loving someone.
Sometimes they disappeared because staying hurt too much.
Lenora returned with a sandwich, apple slices, and a glass of milk.
She placed them on the table.
"I'm sorry I frightened you downstairs," she said stiffly.
I studied her.
"You were mean."
Her cheeks reddened.
"Yes," she admitted. "I was."
I picked up the sandwich.
Nathaniel watched me take the first bite as though it were the most important thing happening in his building.
Then he reached inside his wallet.
Not for money.
For a photograph.
It was small and worn, with white creases across one corner.
He placed it on the marble between us.
A younger Nathaniel stood beside a beautiful dark-haired woman wearing a blue dress.
She was laughing.
Around her neck hung a delicate silver necklace shaped like a bird.
I stopped chewing.
The woman had my mother's eyes.
My mother's smile.
Even the little mark above her left eyebrow, the one she told me came from falling off a bicycle when she was young.
"That's Mommy."
Nathaniel didn't move.
"Are you certain?"
I nodded hard.
"She's younger there, but it's her."
He pressed his lips together.
For several seconds, I thought he might cry.
Instead, he touched the photograph with one finger.
"Her name was Evelyn."
I swallowed.
"Mommy's middle name is Evelyn."
He shook his head slowly.
"No, sweetheart. That was her first name."
I stared at him.
"Why'd she change it?"
"That's something I hope she'll explain."
"Who is she to you?"
Nathaniel looked directly at me.
"She's my daughter."
I nearly dropped the sandwich.
My mother had told me her father was alive.
She had never told me who he was.
Or why she refused to speak about him.
I looked at the silver-haired man.
"Does that make you my grandpa?"
His face crumpled.
"Yes, Ruby."
A tear slipped down his cheek before he could stop it.
"I believe it does."
I didn't know what to say.
I'd imagined having a grandfather before.
Someone who might take me fishing, teach me to ride a bicycle, or sit in the audience during school plays.
I'd never imagined one who owned a building taller than anything on Aldridge Street.
"Does Mommy know you're here?"
Nathaniel gave a small, sad smile.
"She knows where to find me."
I thought about that.
Then I remembered something important.
"Mommy's going to be worried."
Nathaniel immediately asked Marcus to bring a telephone.
I knew Mom's number by heart.
She answered on the fourth ring.
"Ruby? Where are you?"
Her voice sounded breathless.
"Mommy, I'm okay. I found a wallet, and I brought it back."
"Where?"
"At a big building downtown."
"What building?"
I looked at Nathaniel.
"Graves Tower."
Silence.
Then Mom spoke in a voice I'd never heard before.
"Ruby. Listen carefully. Do not tell that man anything else."
My heart sank.
"Mommy?"
"I'm coming to get you."
The line went dead.
Nathaniel had heard enough to understand.
He stared at the phone.
"She's coming?"
I nodded.
He looked at Marcus.
"Open the front entrance for her. Verify her identity, but don't frighten her. And release the other visitors. The building isn't a prison."
Marcus went to carry out the orders.
I glanced at Nathaniel.
"Is Mommy mad at you?"
He looked at the photograph again.
"She has every right to be."
Twenty minutes later, Marcus returned.
"Sir, she's here."
Nathaniel stood so quickly his chair scraped against the floor.
I saw Mom through the glass doors.
Her brown hair was falling from its loose bun. She still wore her faded cleaning uniform, and her face was white with fear.
The moment she saw me, she rushed forward.
"Ruby!"
I ran into her arms.
She hugged me so tightly I could barely breathe.
Then she looked over my shoulder.
And froze.
Nathaniel stood several feet away.
"Evelyn," he whispered.
Mom slowly straightened.
"Don't call me that."
"I've been looking for you for twelve years."
"I know."
His expression changed.
"You knew?"
"Of course I knew."
"Then why—"
"Because every time I considered coming home, I remembered what happened to the people who trusted you."
Nathaniel flinched.
"Please. Let me explain."
Mom pulled me behind her.
"Explain what? The fire? The people who died? Or what happened to Daniel?"
I looked up.
Daniel was my daddy's name.
Nathaniel went completely still.
"Daniel?"
Mom's eyes filled with tears.
"My husband."
Nathaniel shook his head.
"I never knew you were married."
"You knew enough."
"Evelyn, what are you talking about?"
She stepped closer.
Her voice trembled, but every word was clear.
"Four years ago, Daniel Miller tried to warn your company about a dangerous building. Three days later, he was dead."
Nathaniel stared at her.
Mom wrapped one arm protectively around my shoulders.
"And the last thing my husband told me was that he'd discovered who ordered the cover-up."
May you like
She looked straight into Nathaniel's eyes.
"He said your name."
