October 2nd, 1944. Porter got a package from home. Real chocolate. He split it with me and the other two. I told him he was a fool. He should have kept it. He said, “A man’s got to eat, but a man’s got to have friends, too. He’s gruff, but he’s a good man.” Emma closed the book. She finally understood. Mr.
Hank hadn’t just been testing the world. He had been looking for Elias. He had been looking for a friend. He’s trying to paint you as a schemer, General Sinclair explained one evening at the small kitchen table. The house smelled like cinnamon. Mary had started baking to keep her hands busy. But I don’t I don’t know how to scheme, Mary said, her hands twisting a dish towel. I’m a maid. To Mr.
Graves, you are a threat. The general said, “He has scheduled your depositions for next week, both of you. He will try to scare you. He will try to make you contradict yourself. He will try to prove you took advantage of a sick old man.” “But we didn’t,” Emma said from the floor, not looking up from the journal. “Mr.
Hank used my cookies to find a friend.” The general smiled. “That quartermaster is exactly what you should say.” The deposition room was cold and dark. Mr. Graves the hawk sat at one end of a long polished table. A stenographer sat beside him. Brenda and Junior were there sitting against the wall like a bitter audience.
Mary sat opposite Graves with General Sinclair at her side. Her hands were trembling. Mrs. Carter, Graves began, his voice slick. Let’s be clear. You worked as a maid. Did you make a habit of fraternizing with the patients? I I would say hello. Just hello. Gravessmiled. Or did you seek out wealthy patients? Objection, Sinclair said, his voice a low rumble.
The patients financial status was not public knowledge. Noted, Graves sneered. Mrs. Carter, when did you first discover Mr. Porter was wealthy? In your office, Mary said, her voice small. After he he was gone. I just thought he was a sad old man. A sad old man, Graves repeated. Whom you instructed your daughter to visit? A 10-year-old girl? No.
I I told her not to. It was against the rules. Ah. Graves slapped the table. Mary jumped. So, she was defying the rules. How convenient. The daughter sneaks in to see the lonely billionaire. Did you practice this story, Mrs. Carter? It’s not a story. It’s the truth. The truth? Graves scoffed.
The truth is you were drowning in debt. Did you find out about his son, his granddaughter? Did you realize how disappointed he was in them? Did you see your opening? I No, I was just cleaning. Yes, you were. Graves looked at her with contempt. We’re done. Send in the child. Mary felt sick, but the general put a hand on her arm.
You did fine, Mary. You told the truth. Emma came in. She was not afraid. She sat in the big chair, her feet not touching the floor. “Hello, Emma,” Graves said, his voice suddenly thick and sweet. “My name is Mr. Graves. I’m just here to ask about your friend, Mr. Hank.” Emma nodded. “You brought him cookies.
Did your mommy tell you to bring them? No, sir. She told me not to. She was scared of nurse Jacobs. Graves’s smile faltered. “Oh, but you did it anyway. Why?” “Because he was hungry,” Emma said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. He said the jello was slop, so I brought him a cookie. “And did he did he promise you things?” Graves leaned in.
“Did he promise you money?” a new house. Emma looked at him confused. No, why would he do that? He’s not a bank. He was just Mr. Hank. But he gave you a coin, Graves pounced. A heavy gold looking coin. It’s not gold, Emma said. It’s a challenge coin. He traded it to me for the cookies. He traded you. Graves looked at the stenographer.
So, you made a deal. You gave him cookies. He gave you what? A promise. Objection. Sinclair said he’s twisting the child’s words. I’m just trying to understand this trade. He said. Emma’s voice was clear and steady. He said I was the quartermaster. And he said he found his family. His family? Graves looked at Brenda and Junior. You mean them? No. Emma said.
She pointed at herself. Me? He said I was a Carter like my great grandpa. He said we were better than you. You, Junior shouted from the back wall, his face purple. Quiet, Graves ordered. His fake smile was gone. The old man was scenile. He was confused. He was babbling about wars and ghosts. No, he wasn’t, Emma said. He was just mad.
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