Sold on a Monday: A Novel

“Mr. Reed, a moment.” Mr. Walker’s thin drawl didn’t do much to soften his ominous tone.

Like the rest of the group, Dutch was breaking from the daily news meeting, but he paused to flash his clenched teeth at Ellis. The gesture surely meant Hang in there, buddy—though it felt more like Pal, you’re in for it.

Probably because that was just what Ellis was telling himself.

When Mr. Walker had skipped over him while asking for updates around the circle, Ellis was relieved at first, as he still had no big project in the works. Not one for the public anyway. But then he’d caught a smirk from Mr. Tate, indicating that bypassing Ellis wasn’t an oversight.

“Follow me.” Mr. Walker now led Ellis through the standard chitter of the city room and into the privacy of the meeting room. The space was limited to a plain, rectangular table surrounded by well-worn chairs. Every wall was left bare, save for a single working clock. Aside from paper and ink, it was the greatest necessity in the business.

As Mr. Walker closed the door, Ellis peeked at the time. Half past one. Despite last night’s drive to and from Philly, he wasn’t weary enough to forget his two o’clock with Mr. Millstone. For any chance of making it, he had to leave soon. A prospect that wasn’t looking good, based on Mr. Walker’s folded arms, his jutted jaw. Add a gun belt and a silver star to the man’s suit, and he could pass as a southern lawman reaching his diplomatic limit.

Ellis prompted, “Is something wrong, sir?”

“I was planning to ask you the same. Because for the life of me, I can’t fathom where your head’s been lately.”

Ellis doubted that was true. Mr. Walker appeared to have a very clear idea about which body cavity Ellis had been using to store that particular part. But since cracking a joke in that regard wasn’t going to help, he merely listened.

“Early on, I did have some reservations about bringing you on board. But then you found your stride. Broke some solid stories.” Mr. Walker paused then, and Ellis wanted to cut to the end as much as he dreaded it. “If you have some notion, however, that a couple of bylines means you can sit back on your haunches—especially at your level of salary—you’re going to be gravely disappointed.”

The nature of Ellis’s generous raise had always carried a backroom-handshake feel. Apparently the paper’s accountant wasn’t the only other staff member aware of the specifics.

“I assure you, sir, I don’t think that at all. In fact,” Ellis reminded him, “I volunteered just yesterday to write up a piece about the beer bill.” After everything that had happened since, it was hard to believe that only a day had passed.

“Ah, yes. The mystery piece.”

Ellis puzzled over the description.

“You know…a mystery. When logic tells us something should be there, but for some reason it never appears.”

“But, sir. If you recall, I punched out that piece in plenty of time for deadline.” Ellis had actually finished it before his mother surprised him with a visit, had even gotten approval right after.

“Okay. Then who’d you leave it with?”

Ellis hated to assign blame, but he remembered clear as rain. Before departing early for the bank, he’d gathered his belongings, and on his way out, he handed his pages off to…

Except…he hadn’t. The damn things were still in his satchel.

“Christ.” He ran a hand over his eyes.

“Well then. Assuming you’re not trying to claim the Almighty is responsible, sounds like we settled that issue.”

Ellis pointed toward the door. “I’ve got that article right at my desk. I can grab it right this second.”

“It’s done,” Mr. Walker said. “I had Hagen write it up. You were nowhere to be found. An increasingly recurrent theme, it seems.”

The article wasn’t urgent. Reassigning it, specifically to the eager rookie with a billion ideas, was a bold flag of frustration.

Ellis lamented the flub, but not nearly as much as being viewed as a shirker. “I’m sorry, Mr. Walker. I do value my job, honest. Like I mentioned before, I just had some personal matters that needed my attention.”

“So do we all, Mr. Reed. And if that warranted perpetual free passes, we wouldn’t have a paper. Besides, we’re in the news business here. I don’t have to explain to you the importance of perception.”

Nope, he really didn’t. Misperceptions were just what had led Ellis into the current mess with Lily and Geraldine and Alfred Millstone.

The thought pulled Ellis’s eyes toward the clock, his editor’s lecture droning on until the room broke jaggedly into silence.

Mr. Walker’s gaze turned steely. “You have somewhere else to be right now?”

Ellis could still postpone the appointment. Given how it came about, though, he doubted he’d get another shot. And a one-on-one meeting could reveal just enough details to help those kids.

“Across the river,” he hazarded. “For an interview.”

Mr. Walker considered this, and Ellis feared an inquiry over specifics. Instead, the editor cast him an unreadable look before opening the door. “Then I suggest you get going.”

• • •

Those parting words normally would have scratched at Ellis’s mind. He would have reviewed them for intent, for a sign of finality. A message that he needn’t bother to return. But all he could think of now, as he drove toward Century Alliance, was that every resident on Manhattan Island had ventured out for an afternoon drive, enticed by the moderate spring weather.

Within seconds of pulling up to the bank, he was parked and sprinting toward the entrance. A drop of sweat slid from his hat.

“No running,” the guard inside growled, slowing Ellis to a brisk walk.

He maintained his pace up the stairs, glad nobody stopped to question him, and introduced himself to the lone secretary stationed outside three executive offices. She had a graying helmet of hair and wore a blouse with a puffy bow below her chin. On the door closest to her desk, the frosted-glass pane was marked Alfred Millstone.

The woman made a show of peering over her bifocals at the oversize wall clock—he was twenty minutes late, according to its Roman numerals—before she perused a scheduling book. Ellis remembered her. Via the teller downstairs, she was the one who’d declined his prior request to meet with Mr. Millstone. Now it was sorely evident she might turn him away again, on principle alone.

He was about to explain himself when she rose from her chair. “This way.”

Gratefully, Ellis followed her into the neighboring office. There, Mr. Millstone sat at a mahogany desk that neatly displayed a pencil holder, prism paperweight, files, and more. He was packing tobacco into a sleek wooden pipe—not his first time that day, based on the smell that blended with the scents of ledger ink and old East Coast money.

“Mr. Millstone.” Ellis extended his hand, which the man accepted this time, even rising from his wingback chair.

“I was beginning to wonder if I’d see you again.”

“I apologize, sir.” Ellis was doing so much of that lately that one would think he was trying to set a record. “Before I could go, my editor needed me for some pressing items.”

“Well, bosses can be troublesome that way, can’t they?” The reply held a hint of levity as Mr. Millstone nodded at his secretary, who yielded a partial smile before closing the door. “Please, sit down.” He indicated a visitor’s chair facing his desk, and they both settled in. “The truth of it is, Mr. Reed, I owe you an apology as well.”

Ellis paused while pulling his notepad and pencil from his coat pocket. He hadn’t anticipated this bit. “How so?”

“A good number of people are still enduring rough times, as you know. When you’re a banker, and a stranger comes knocking, it can make you a little nervous.”

“I imagine so.” Ellis gave a reassuring smile, and Mr. Millstone’s eyes warmed behind his glasses. Then he lit his pipe, stoking the tobacco with a series of puffs as Ellis waited.

“So,” the man said, snuffing out the match, “what can I tell you today?”

How about an update on the kids you bought in Pennsylvania?

Ellis stored the thought. As with cracking any big story, he’d work his way in gradually.

“Well, for the profile, Mr. Millstone—”

“Alfred will do.”

“Alfred.” Not a shock. Bigwigs often figured a personable exchange meant a more favorable article. “To start off, I was hoping to hear a little about your job here as president.”

“Sounds innocent enough.”

The choice of words was a bit curious, all things considered. But as soon as Ellis opened his notepad, Alfred launched into a description of his daily tasks, followed by a list of his overarching duties. He presented himself as a genial gentleman, just as the cabbie had said, though with a spark of passion over his occupation. So much so, he took only momentary breaks, solely to stoke his pipe, while delving into the importance of banking in the community, stressing the necessity of efforts to help honest, hardworking citizens succeed.

Ellis had to scribble to keep up. When he flipped to a fourth page, Alfred stopped and shook his head. “By golly, I did ramble on, didn’t I?”

He’d probably gone for a solid fifteen minutes, but now wasn’t the time for him to go quiet.

“It’s refreshing, actually. With a person of your stature, it can be hard to pry out more than a sentence or two for a quote. Unless it’s election time.”

Alfred laughed a little. He returned to his pipe, its sweet, woodsy scent filling the room, and Ellis glanced down at his notepad.

“Let’s see now,” he said as if referring to prepared questions. As if details of Alfred’s life weren’t already embedded in his brain. “I’ve heard you hail from the West Coast. Is that right?”

“Yes. That’s correct.”

“California, was it?”

“You’ve done your homework.”

Ellis smiled. “Requirement of the trade.”

Alfred nodded, amused. “It was the Los Angeles area.”

The answer wasn’t terribly specific, but truthful. Ellis didn’t push on that one. “I’m sad to say I’ve never been west of Ohio. That’s gotta be quite a change, from one coast to the other.”

“It certainly is.”

“Something in particular bring you out this way?”

Alfred took another puff, blew it out. “Family reasons more than anything.” When he didn’t elaborate, Ellis had to nudge.

“Family, huh?”

“My wife and I had long talked about living closer to relatives in New York. When the position opened up here at Century Alliance, I finally had the opportunity to make that happen.”

“That’s dandy.” Ellis jotted a note, neither of them mentioning his predecessor’s grim end. “And how’s the rest of your family been with that? As far as adjusting to the move.”

Alfred gave a small shrug. “You know how kids are.”

In a friendly manner, Ellis displayed his left hand, bare of a wedding band. “You’ll have to enlighten me.”

Alfred hummed in acknowledgment and leaned back in his chair. “As parents, I suppose we can’t help but worry…about new schools, new friends. We want to protect them. Keep them safe from the world, from anything that could possibly hurt them…from what we can’t see coming…” His voice gained a distant quality, same for his eyes.

After a moment, Ellis wondered if he should speak, cutting short Alfred’s evident drift into the past. But then the man continued. “In the end, of course, they’re the ones who adapt and persevere without batting an eye. We can learn a lot from our youth.” He looked straight at Ellis. “Don’t you agree?”

Ellis nodded before the sentiment rang with familiarity. In essence, it echoed his own article that had accompanied the Dillards’ picture.

Had Alfred, too, done his homework?

“Mr. Reed, I’m going to be honest with you.” Alfred suddenly lowered his volume, followed by his pipe. “And this is off the record.” He shot a glance toward the door, as if confirming its closure.

Ellis tucked his pencil in his notepad, his neck muscles tensing. “It’s off.”

How much did the man know? How much was he willing to share?

“A bank in New Jersey,” Alfred said, “would not have been my first choice.” He confided this in all seriousness, though he trailed it with a smile.

From the release of tension, Ellis couldn’t help but smile back.

There was no mention of a fatal car accident, nor of how Ruby and Calvin had joined the Millstones. There was also nothing, as best as Ellis could tell, in Alfred’s manner that merited alarm.

“Sometimes,” Alfred added lightly, “we have to make sacrifices for the ones we love. You understand.”

Ellis thought of Geraldine. What she’d chosen to give up, purely for the benefit of her children, was a prime example. “I do, sir.”

A knock came then, announcing the secretary’s return. In the doorway, she held a brimmed hat and overcoat. “Mr. Millstone, it’s time you departed for the station.” A suitcase and cane was posted outside the door.

“That late already.” He sighed and returned to Ellis. “Business trip to Chicago. I’m afraid we’ll have to wrap up for today.”

“No problem at all. I think I got everything I needed.”

“Excellent. Well, I’ll be back on Sunday. Feel free to ring me if you have any other questions.”

“I will, sir.” They both stood to shake hands, and Ellis thought to slip in a disclaimer. “Naturally, it will be up to my editor when, or even if, to run the piece, but I’ll certainly keep you updated.”

Alfred smiled. “I do hope so.”

• • •

Ellis had conjured the profile idea solely as an excuse to assess the banker. Now he was actually tempted to pitch the thing to Mr. Walker. No matter how horribly inconvenient, the reality was that Alfred seemed to be as nice a fella as they came.

Something Geraldine might have pegged from the start.

Clearly she wasn’t the type to hand off her kids to just any stranger, even a wealthy, dapper one. She’d chosen them a good home in every way, it appeared. With Ruby and Calvin settled in after all these months, perhaps they were genuinely happy where they were.

And really, wasn’t that the most important thing? That they had the best life possible? Harsh as it sounded, it wouldn’t take a bookie to calculate the odds of which future held the most promise. Geraldine no longer even had a home of her own. Her only requests were to know her children were all right, and that the arrangement be left alone. In going further, wouldn’t Ellis and Lily be overstepping largely for the sake of their own consciences?

After all, the sanitarium director had gone so far as to declare Geraldine deceased to protect her from unwanted attention. A court battle would inevitably lead to a swarm of reporters, photographers, and readers outspoken with their opinions. And when it was all over—when the kids and Geraldine and the Millstones had all been dragged through the legal and public muck—the judgment would most likely be the same.

Ellis dreaded to admit any of this to Lily, of course. Based on her experience with Samuel, he understood why she wouldn’t want to hear it. But the fact remained that similar dilemmas could have different solutions. And, as Ellis could vouch for, a common bloodline didn’t guarantee a thriving, loving family.

Maybe Geraldine was right.

Maybe life was just how it should be.