Part 3
“Why?”
“Lily helped me.”
“No.”
“She did.”
“That may explain groceries. It does not explain a house.”
Dominic looked down at his untouched coffee.
Eleanor leaned closer.
“Rich men are not complicated in the ways rich men think they are. They want profit, loyalty, forgiveness or control. Which one do you want?”
“None.”
“Then tell me the truth.”
Dominic lifted his eyes.
“She looks like my daughter.”
Eleanor’s face emptied.
Dominic saw it.
Every instinct he possessed sharpened.
“My daughter disappeared three years ago.”
Eleanor’s hand moved beneath the table.
“When?”
“October.”
“How?”
“Car accident.”
“Water?”
Dominic stopped breathing.
Eleanor realized too late what she had revealed.
“How did you know that?”
The old woman looked toward the diner window.
Outside, pedestrians moved through ordinary afternoon traffic.
Inside, an entire past seemed to have entered the booth.
“I asked a question.”
“You asked the right question too quickly.”
Eleanor stood.
“Give us one month in the house.”
“Eleanor—”
“One month. Lily needs heat. She needs better food. I am old enough to stop letting pride punish a child.”
“And after one month?”
“I decide.”
Dominic rose.
May you like
“Agreed.”
Eleanor pulled on her coat.
