“There is not a trick, there is not a swindle, there is not a vice which does not live by secrecy.”
—Joseph Pulitzer
The phone rang on Saturday afternoon.
In his apartment, Ellis was throwing together a sandwich, a ball game airing on the RCA. Unlike his buddies back home, he was never a die-hard baseball fan, but he’d always be a Pennsylvanian. When the Phillies played, you listened. Especially on days like this, when they were beating the blasted Dodgers. Four to two, top of the sixth.
Another ring.
Ellis made his way from the kitchen, licking a dab of mustard from his thumb, and realized the caller had to be his mother. He took an extra moment to reach for the handset.
When he sent her off at the station, he’d agreed to visit soon for supper. Soon being a conveniently vague term. But now, since his father was surely tuned in to the game, something he and Ellis used to do together—meaning they’d listen in the same room—his mother had two hours of free time to mull. And call.
It was time for Ellis to do his part, to smooth over the cracks in their family’s foundation, to continue on as they had for decades.
He picked up the phone.
Only it wasn’t her.
“Ellis,” Lily said, “I need to talk to you.”
For a split second, he was happy to hear her voice. But then he registered the greeting. Whatever came next wasn’t going to be good.
- • •
For the remainder of the weekend, Ellis racked his memory. He reviewed and reevaluated details he had accepted as fact. Though he’d never actually seen Calvin through the window, he knew he’d heard the boy’s laughter…
Unless it was part of the radio show.
But during the interview at the bank, Alfred had spoken of kids, in the plural.
Or was he referencing children in general? He never did mention that he had a boy and a girl—or any specifics about them at all.
Still, Ellis refused to believe the worst. When Lily phoned from her parents’ home, just returned from the Millstones’, he’d combed her story for a sensible explanation.
Maybe an illness had caused Sylvia to grow faint, and a fever jumbled her words. Maybe she just meant Calvin didn’t live there now, as he was off at some prestigious boarding school. With sons of the wealthy, who knew how young they started them out?
Whatever the case, Ellis convinced Lily to wait on telling Geraldine. No reason to sound an alarm until they learned more. Lily had agreed on the condition that he would act quickly.
He hadn’t planned to do otherwise. His own apprehension was churning, a slow but relentless motion, as if roasting over a spit.
The best option was to confront the one person, aside from Alfred, bound to know the truth.
- • •
Amid the Monday morning bustle, it wouldn’t be difficult to follow a person unseen. Even in Hoboken.
Ellis counted on that now as he trailed Sylvia and Ruby from their house. Hand in hand, both looked properly suited for the day. A flared dress and angled hat for Sylvia, a school uniform and yellow hair bow for Ruby.
But no sign of Calvin.
The walk lasted around ten minutes, ending at an imposing brick school. Sylvia bent to straighten Ruby’s collar before releasing her into the stream of children, most arriving on their own. Other escorts bore the looks of young nannies.
Only after Ruby stepped through the doors did Sylvia turn to reverse her path. Ellis maintained his distance across the street. He ventured to guess she’d be back in the afternoon to accompany Ruby home.
To talk to the girl one-on-one, he’d have to pick his moment.
A playground abutted the west side of the school. As long as the weather held up—the merging patches of clouds could go either way—an outdoor recess was sure to be on the schedule.
And so he would wait.
Apartment buildings strewn through the area were interspersed with the usual stores. At the barbershop, he bought a copy of the Tribune—ironically, the only paper they sold—and parked himself on a bench. From the cobbler shop behind him, wafts of leather and shoe polish escaped with each swing of the door.
He perused articles to pass the time. The bolded headlines and coveted bylines further reminded him of the daily news meeting that loomed ahead.
Finally, a burst of high-pitched voices grabbed his attention.
Students were pouring out of the school, set free to skip and pounce. They fanned out over the playground.
Ellis abandoned his paper on the bench. As he made his way across the street, he sifted through the young faces as if panning for an elusive nugget of gold. But even a closer scan—over their swinging and sliding, their battles in hopscotch—failed to produce Ruby.
Then he saw it.
The yellow hair ribbon.
Off by herself, on the side edge of the grounds, Ruby was milling beneath an apple tree. It wasn’t nearly as full or sturdy as the one beside her farmhouse, where its branches easily supported her brother and his dangling, but maybe she still found comfort in the similarities it held.
From behind the tree, Ellis walked up casually, hands in his pockets. It had been too long for her to remember him. He didn’t want to scare her away.
“Enjoying the quiet over here?”
Ruby looked up from the leaf in her hand. She shrugged.
“Don’t want to play with the other kids, huh?”
She glanced toward her classmates, the shrieking and hollering like a cauldron of glee, and Ellis expected another shrug.
“Not allowed,” she replied.
Evidently, it was a quarantine of sorts. Swapping overalls for a uniform must not have tamed the spitfire of a girl he recalled, and honestly, he was glad to hear it. “You’ve been causing some trouble, then,” he said lightly.
“Got a stain on my sweater. From the teeter-totter.” She pointed toward the seesaw that kids were launching up and down with gusto. “Happened weeks ago, but still can’t go on the thing.” Focusing back on the leaf, she tore off pieces and flicked them aside. Not in a musing way. More of a rigid act steeped in irritation.
Ellis noted the lone, matronly teacher on recess duty. She was surveying the playground as a warden would a prison yard. It took no effort to imagine her enforcing such a ridiculous penalty. He’d try his best to stay out of her eyeshot.
“Whatcha doing here anyway?” Ruby asked. “You come to take pictures?”
It took him a second to process the connection. Impressed, Ellis smiled at her. “I didn’t think you’d remember me.”
“Why’s that?”
“Just that it’s been a while.” About eight months, incredibly. “And we only met that once… Well, twice, I suppose.”
“Saw you from my window lots of times, bringing boxes to our porch. Food and things.”
Another cause for surprise. Each time, he’d parked at the end of the drive, headlights diverted from their windows. Under the veil of night, he thought he’d been sly. “You knew it was me all along?”
She picked up a fresh leaf and resumed her tearing, a little gentler now. “I’d hear that motor of yours. Sounded like it was hurtin’ something fierce.”
“Yeah. It was.” Ellis laughed to himself. “Still is.”
Her cheeks warmed, and a smile he recognized curved her small lips. “I liked the pickled beets you left. The pears too. Could’ve done without the chickpeas.”
“Didn’t care for the taste?”
“Oh, I liked ’em going down just fine. It’s the after that was the problem. And I don’t mean from me, if that’s what you’re thinkin’.” She pointed emphatically. “Sharing a bed was no picnic when Cal tooted up a storm. That stink could’ve knocked out a bear.”
Ellis couldn’t help but laugh again. “That bad, huh?”
“You wouldn’t think something so big could come out of a person that small, and not just from chickpeas. This other time, my brother took on a dare to…” She stopped there, and her gaze lowered to the ground, her joy vanishing with her words.
“What?” Ellis pressed gently. “What’d your brother do?”
She shook her head, adamant. “I don’t got—have—a brother.”
Ellis peered at her, stunned by the lie. The girl had obviously been coached. He was suddenly as eager as he was fearful to probe further. Bracing himself, he lowered to a squat and met her at eye level. “You know, you first asked me why I came. Well, it’s actually about Calvin. If you have any idea where he went, I was hoping you’d tell me.”
She curled her bottom lip. Her reluctance was clear, yet Ellis couldn’t let up.
“The thing is, I swore I’d make sure he’s okay. And I’m trying to keep that promise. But I’m not sure I can without your help.”
Studying his face, she considered his plea. Quietly she answered, “He’s with Mama.”
Ellis cocked his head before he distinguished the reference. “You mean Mrs. Millstone? The mother you live with now.”
“No,” she told him. “My old mama.”
Now he was truly perplexed. “You’re saying your mama—Geraldine—kept Calvin.”
After a moment, Ruby issued a nod.
The claim made no sense. It didn’t line up with accounts from the cabbie and the train clerk, even Geraldine herself.
“That sure is interesting to hear. See, I was told that you and Calvin rode the train with Mr. Millstone. All the way to California. Then you moved here, to Jersey, with Mrs. Millstone too.”
Ruby nodded again.
At the boardinghouse, maybe Ellis had given Geraldine enough details to locate the children on her own. Over the past week, had she reconsidered her stance? Had she managed to take her son back?
Just then, past Ruby’s shoulder, Ellis saw the teacher starting in his direction. Time was running out. “And what happened next?”
“After school one day,” Ruby said, “I got a letter from Mama. I was so excited ’cause I thought she was finally better and it was time to go home. To our farm home.”
So, the girl knew her mother was sick, maybe all along.
“What’d the letter say?”
“That she loved me very much…but…but he could only afford to look after one of us.” Ruby’s voice thinned, and tears welled in her eyes. “Since I’m older, Calvin needed her more. That’s why she’d come to fetch him.”
The bell rang.
Recess was over.
Desperate for a delay, Ellis wished he could comfort her. “Honey, I’ve got to know. Did you ever see your mom? When she came to get Calvin.”
Ruby shook her head. “It’d be too hard for her. To say goodbye again.”
“But how do you know? Did someone—”
“Sir, may I help you?”
Ellis met the teacher’s grimness with an instant smile. “Morning, ma’am.” Grudgingly he rose. “I was just happening by. As a friend of the family, thought I’d say hello.”
The woman looked to Ruby. “Is that so?” A strained pause, then the child nodded. Thankfully. “All the same, these are school hours. In the future, your visits would be best kept to the family’s personal time.”
“Right. I’ll definitely do that.”
The teacher pivoted sharply on her heels. She flicked her hand toward the other children, all funneling into the school. “Back inside, Victoria!”
Ruby shot Ellis a final glance before following the order, leaving him astounded once more. The girl was now being called Victoria.
She’d been stripped not only of her family, but even of her name.
- • •
The minute Ellis returned to the paper, he phoned the sanitarium. The director, now aware of Ellis, put Geraldine on the line. Calmly, Ellis asked about a letter to Ruby. No details of its content or other mentions of Ruby’s story, nor of the girl’s renaming.
Just as he’d feared, Geraldine was at a loss. Ellis sloughed off the letter as an apparent misunderstanding. And her request that followed—asking him to peek in on the kids every so often—further confirmed his suspicions.
Geraldine had never come for her son.
Lily was right to be concerned. Either the couple had given Calvin away or something grave had happened while Ruby was off at school. The latter could explain Sylvia’s reaction.
But no. Ellis refused to accept that scenario. As a reporter, he prided himself on detecting the truth. Something in Alfred’s manner, when they chatted about kids, would have raised an alarm in Ellis.
Or had his view been skewed by a desire to see only what he wanted?
“Dutch,” he called out. The guy was wandering by with notepad in hand. Seeing Ellis, he strode right over.
“Hey, you missed today’s meeting. Thought you might be out sick.”
Ellis didn’t feel in the best of health, but it wasn’t from a cold.
He skipped past that issue for a vital one. “Your pal in LA—I think you said he was going to send the clips he’d found for me. You mind following up when you have a sec?”
Dutch bit out a laugh. “See that pile there?” He gestured to the mail layered haphazardly on Ellis’s desk. “Might go through it every so often. Here…” From a quick sift through the stack, Dutch handed over a small manila envelope. “I dropped it off for you last week.”
“Guess that’s what I get for giving my secretary time off.” Ellis made the joke not just to keep things light with Dutch, which it did, but also to subdue his own fear. Its slow burn was heating to a blaze. He felt it even before sliding out the clippings as Dutch strolled away, before flipping to the obituary about the Millstones’ late daughter, before staring at her portrait featuring a familiar sailor dress, a ribbon tied in her hair.
Victoria Agnes Millstone, the caption read.
Ellis had easily figured the Millstones were aiming to fill a void. He just hadn’t envisioned their daughter being literally replaced by Ruby, looks and all. Even without the same ribbon and dress, the two virtually could have passed as twins.
Every unnerving aspect had just been magnified tenfold.
Though dreading to share the news—how would he ever explain this?—Ellis slid his phone closer. He was still processing it all as he rang the operator, who put him through to Lily’s line at the Examiner. But it was the chief who picked up. He seemed even more rattled than Ellis.
“Took the day off,” he grumbled, explaining Lily’s absence, and hung up before Ellis could ask anything more.
A day off? The chief didn’t say she was out sick.
After her trip to Jersey, she must have extended her weekend to make up for lost time with her son. Ellis debated on waiting, not wanting to intrude, but for Calvin’s sake—and Ruby’s—he had to make the call.
To connect to the Palmers, he requested their deli. The phone rang only once before the reply came without greeting. “Dr. Mannis?”
“No…Lily, it’s me.”
“Ellis?” She sounded on the brink of tears.
In that instant, any other thought in his head, including his reason for calling, evaporated like mist. “Lily, what is it? What’s happened?”
Her voice trembled as she answered over the line. “Something’s wrong with Samuel.”
