Chapter 3 - The Silver Shawl
The music stopped mid-note. Alexander knelt beside the woman while Naomi cleared space for the paramedics a guest had already called. The woman was conscious, but barely.
“Her name is Evelyn Shaw,” a man from the crowd said. “She worked for your family years ago.”
Vanessa’s mouth tightened. “She wasn’t invited.”
Evelyn caught Naomi’s wrist. “Don’t believe the hospital records,” she rasped. “They changed the night.”
“What night?” Naomi asked.
“The fire.”
Alexander froze. His little sister Lucy had vanished in a fire at St. Agnes Children’s Home twenty-three years earlier. He had been nine. Their father said she died; no body had been recovered. Their father had died three years ago without ever discussing it again.
The paramedics lifted Evelyn. She pushed the envelope toward Naomi. “Your mother kept the other half.”
Vanessa signaled to a guard. “That woman is confused. Please take the waitress away.”
“I’m coming with her,” Alexander told the paramedics.
“No,” Evelyn whispered. “They’ll see you.”
At the hospital entrance, an ambulance door slammed and the guards escorted guests out of the ballroom. Daniel finally spoke to Naomi in the deserted hall.
“I saw Vanessa open your locker this afternoon,” he said. “I thought she was looking for a reason to complain.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because my brother’s immigration lawyer costs money I don’t have.” He swallowed. “And because she told me you’d be gone by midnight.”
Naomi opened the envelope. Inside was a photograph of two children standing beside a brick wall. One was a boy, unmistakably Alexander. The other was a girl with dark eyes and a tiny crescent-shaped scar under her chin.
Naomi reached to the same place under her own chin.
May you like
The security guard who had escorted guests outside came back for the footage. His manager demanded he erase it, claiming the night had become a private family matter. Instead, he made a preservation copy and recorded the request in the incident log. His small act would matter later.
Then she read the date on the back. It was the day before the fire—and three years before her mother said Naomi had been born.
