Sold on a Monday: A Novel

“There is nothing to fear except the persistent refusal to find out the truth.”

—Dorothy Thompson

The driver sat parked along the street, his features shadowed in a shabby black car. Lily caught a glimpse from the deli’s front counter as shoppers dwindled at last. It was almost closing time on Saturday, the busiest day of the week, with customers stocking up for Sunday meals.

“Dear, would you mind?” Lily’s mother handed her a nickel and two pennies.

“Mr. Wilson?”

“Who else?”

Once again, the longtime patron had shuffled away with his weekly goods—always salami and provolone—and left his change.

Lily sprinted out the door, not bothering to remove her apron. Specks of rain dotted her arms, left bare by her short-sleeved cotton blouse. The early-evening air carried an electric scent. She caught up with Mr. Wilson a few doors down, outside Mel’s Haberdashery, where he thanked her with a bashful smile.

On her way back, she brushed her hair from her eyes, the rest pinned up for her deli work. She was about to pass the old, black Model T when the driver opened his door and stepped out.

“Lily, wait.”

She froze.

It was Ellis Reed.

He pulled off his hat and held the brim awkwardly with both hands. “I’m sorry to just show up like this.”

Her teeth clenched, as did her stomach. A week had come and gone since their bitter parting in New York, yet the lashes from his words now turned fresh and raw.

She had been absurd to ever discount Clayton for the man standing before her. Having realized this, and with Clayton busy all week at the paper, she had postponed firming her stance on the courtship front. Aside from this: she would never again let emotion squander sensibility, even at the risk of winding up alone.

“What do you want?”

“To apologize, for my behavior that night. For the cruddy stuff I said. I’d planned to say this days ago, but…some things happened…” His gaze rose to hers, and the marked sincerity in his eyes couldn’t be overlooked. Nor could his effort.

“The drive from Brooklyn,” she realized, “must be three hours.”

He gave a small shrug. “A letter wouldn’t have been enough.”

She related to the concept, more than he could possibly fathom, but she maintained her guard.

“That’s why I’m here,” he went on. “To tell you in person.”

Before she could temper a response, a pair of ladies—the town librarian and the organist from church—pardoned themselves for interrupting the conversation to pass through, abruptly reminding Lily of their surroundings.

Somehow Ellis, surely without help from Clayton, had been able to find her. Here, in Maryville. How much else did he or others know?

She moved closer before asking, “How did you know where I’d be?”

He gestured his hat in the deli’s direction. “You mentioned coming here every weekend. To help out your folks.”

“Oh, yes. I forgot.” The connection eased her a bit, yet her worlds still needed to remain separate. At least for those unworthy of her trust. “Well, I accept your apology, Mr. Reed, and I appreciate all the trouble you’ve gone to. Now, I’m afraid you’ll have to excuse me.”

She started to leave, but he spoke again. “You were right, by the way. About the stories I’ve written. The things I did to get ahead…”

When his voice trailed off, she finished for him. “Like the children,” she said, “in the second picture.” She wanted to hear him say it. But he stared at her, baffled by her knowledge. “I know the kids weren’t the same, Ellis.”

His face turned heavy with regret, far more than expected.

Still, she returned to her purpose, aware of other townsfolk on the street. “Why don’t we talk more another time? Maybe when you’re back in Philly. Right now, I do need to help close up the store.”

“Of course,” he said quietly. His suit was wrinkled, his jaw unshaven. He looked as if he’d not slept in days. Their last encounter, while ill fated, couldn’t alone have been the cause.

“Mommy,” a small voice called.

Lily spun around. “Yes?”

Only then did she wince. Samuel—her precious secret—stood at the deli entrance with half a cookie in his hand. His shirt was marked with flour from baking with his grandmother. “Can I eat it? It’s extra and broke. But Gamma says I gotta ask.”

Behind Lily, astonishment was undoubtedly rolling over Ellis’s face.

“Mommy, pleeease?”

She nodded with little thought. In that moment, he could have asked for a box full of nails and she would have agreed.

Samuel burst into 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 table, landing on the long-eared rabbit fashioned from a linen napkin. Like a puppeteer, Ellis sent the animal hopping to the bowl of glazed carrots, where it wiggled its nose. Samuel laughed again, and the intensity in the room gave ever so slightly. Even Lily’s parents couldn’t hide their surprise, their grandson’s joy reliably infectious.

Samuel’s interest had just begun to fade when Ellis said, “How about a turtle?”

This time Samuel nodded with vigor, and Ellis went to work. He folded and tucked and tugged until the rabbit had transformed into the shelled creature. The turtle crawled along the table’s edge, garnering more giggles, before Samuel asked for a bird. Ellis gladly obliged, appearing to almost forget his burden.

Lily slipped away to serve pieces of her homemade rhubarb pie, which Ellis praised though barely had the chance to eat. He was too busy filling half a dozen other requests. Even one by Lily’s father—at Samuel’s urging.

By the end of the meal, neither of Lily’s parents had fully relinquished their guardedness, but they did fulfill their roles as proper hosts. Her mother even offered accommodations for the night on account of the weather.

“Thank you,” Ellis replied, “but really, I’ve already imposed too much.”

Lily’s mother tsked. “No sense leaving till it’s safe. Lillian, fetch the spare sheets.” The implied instruction was to make up the sofa.

For more than one reason the extended stay unsettled Lily. There was no practicality, however, in sending a tired driver out into a storm at night.

• • •

Every minute slogged into the next, stretching endlessly toward dawn. The pounding rain had gradually let up. In the bed beside Lily’s, the quilt over Samuel’s chest rose and fell with each breath. She inhaled his faint boyish scent, envious of his ability to rest.

In the dimness, she counted the stripes on the wallpaper of white and marigold, a relaxing habit since childhood. But tonight, not even warm milk would deliver her to sleep.

Just then, she caught a noise. She raised her head from the pillow and listened. Another creak suggested movement on the floor below. Her parents never ones to stir this late, she surmised that Ellis’s mind, like her own, was spinning over two children not meant to be sold.

How could Ellis—or she, for that matter—ever find peace until they knew more?

An idea came to her. It would mean shaving a few hours off her weekend with Samuel, but there was no better option. She had to tell Ellis, and now. If he were to leave by dawn, she would miss him altogether.

With quiet care, she slid out of bed, tied on her robe, and made her way down the stairs. In the sitting room, Ellis stood at the window, the curtains half-open. Moonlight softened his features as he stared into the night. Though he still wore his trousers, his suspenders hung loose down his thighs. Only a sleeveless undershirt covered his torso, the muscles of his arms and chest defined by shadows.

Lily suddenly worried over the unseemly meeting. She was dressed in little more than a nightgown. Not even slippers covered her bare feet. She took a step back, causing a floorboard to creak.

Ellis turned. “Did I wake you?” His voice was soft and raspy, threaded with concern.

She shook her head.

It would be silly to retreat now.

She moved just close enough to be heard well in a hush. “Tomorrow, I think we should go to the Dillards’ old area. To Laurel Township.”

“Lily.” Already there was an objection in his tone. Maybe he had considered it before. But he needed to hear her out.

“This train worker—the cabbie—he saw it all happen. He might know more: about where the kids went, why their mother did what she did. You said yourself she didn’t seem the type to do such a thing.”

“Lily,” he said again, “I appreciate the suggestion, and I definitely plan to dig around. You don’t need to get involved, though. That’s not the reason I told you. You didn’t do this. I did.”

“You’re wrong.” As he shifted to fully face her, Lily forced down the emotion, the guilt that had been mounting all evening. “I gave the chief your first picture. I found it in the darkroom. When I saw it, as a mother… Well, it hit home.” She opted to simplify, not up for delving needlessly into her and Samuel’s past.

Ellis’s brow lifted, an expression of finally grasping a missing piece. For a second, Lily wondered if he might resent her for instigating this terrible mess.

Instead, he answered, “It’s still not your fault. I’m sure you were only trying to help.”

“Fine. Then let me keep doing that now. I need to, Ellis. Please.”

Graciously, he didn’t ask why. He just considered her words, then let out a breath. “So, we’ll go together.”

Her burden lessened a fraction, for at least they had a plan. When they traded smiles, the space between them became far too quiet, too close. And yet, Lily hesitated to leave.

Spread over the sofa, the sheets remained smooth and unused. A restless night lay ahead for them both.

After all, discoveries awaited. Surely nothing of the worst sort. “You do know we’re likely worrying over nothing, what with a wealthy banker willing to raise the children. We could very well find out that everything turned out for the best.”

“Absolutely,” Ellis said. “We could.”

Together they almost sounded convinced.