The Little Girl Accused of Theft at Mrs. Grant's Banquet

CHAPTER 2 - A NAME FROM THE PAST

The man introduced himself as Daniel Ruiz from Child Protective Services.

He was in his forties, tired-eyed, and plainly dressed, which made him look even more out of place among the crystal chandeliers and silk gowns. He knelt beside the girl, lowering his voice.

"It's okay, Lucy. Nobody's taking your necklace."

Lucy.

The name landed somewhere deep inside Eleanor, where grief had not yet made room for anything else.

Eleanor stood, one hand still pressed to the sapphire at her throat. "You knew who she was?"

Daniel nodded. "Not until tonight. We had the child's name and her mother's name. No father listed. Caroline moved often. Used shelters sometimes. Paid cash when she could. There were gaps."

"You should have called me."

"We didn't know you existed."

That struck harder than Eleanor expected. Not because he was rude. Because he was telling the truth.

The banquet around them had turned into a field of careful glances and lowered voices. Eleanor had hosted charity dinners in this hotel for fifteen years. She knew exactly how quickly pity became gossip.

She looked at Lucy. "Where have you been staying?"

Lucy did not answer. She kept her eyes on the white tablecloth.

Daniel answered for her. "Emergency foster placement for now. Her mother collapsed in a bus station clinic. Advanced pneumonia complicated by untreated diabetes. She died before we could locate any family."

Eleanor closed her eyes.

Caroline had been diabetic since she was nineteen. Stubborn. Bright. Funny. Furious at being managed.

Furious at Eleanor, too.

"Why didn't Caroline call me?" Eleanor asked, though she was really asking herself.

Daniel reached into his satchel and took out a small plastic evidence bag. Inside was a folded piece of paper, worn soft at the creases.

"We found this in Caroline's coat pocket," he said. "It had your name on it. No address. Just one sentence."

He handed it to Eleanor.

Her fingers shook as she opened the note.

If anything happens to me, tell my mother I'm sorry, but don't let them take Lucy.

On the back, in a child's uneven printing, were three words:

Grandma likes blue.

"If anything happens to me, tell my mother I'm sorry."