Chapter 4 - Dinner on Paper
By midnight, the candles had burned low.
Guests slipped away carrying coats and explanations.
Some apologized.
Most avoided the dessert table.
Elisa left after speaking with the officer, her heels striking the marble path hard enough to announce that she considered herself the injured party.
Damon stayed.
June had brought Nora a bowl of chicken and rice.
The girl ate slowly, pausing between bites to check the service entrance.
When Mara finally arrived with an officer, Nora jumped down so fast her chair tipped over.
“Mom!”
Mara caught her with one arm.
The other wrist was wrapped.
“I’m here, baby.
I’m here.”
Damon looked away from the reunion until Mara said his name.
Up close, she seemed younger than her exhausted voice had sounded.
“Thank you for keeping her.”
“Thank June.
She stayed with her.”
June squeezed Mara’s shoulder.
The officer asked whether Mara wanted to continue her statement somewhere quiet.
They moved into the library.
June took Nora to the adjoining sitting room, leaving the door open.
Mara sat on the edge of a chair.
“I wash dishes at Saint Agnes Shelter three mornings a week,” she said.
“I take catering shifts when I can get them.”
“Why was Nora here?”
“My sitter canceled.
June said she could stay in the staff room until we finished.”
Damon nodded.
“What happened with the invoice?”
“A driver gave me a receipt by mistake.
Same vendor.
Same meal count I’d seen at the shelter.”
“Could it have been a duplicate?”
“That’s what I thought.”
She pulled a folded sheet from inside her shirt.
“But this says Saint Agnes received six hundred meals on Thursday.”
“How many did you receive?”
“Forty-eight.”
Damon stared at the number.
“We split them.
Some parents said they’d already eaten so their kids could have enough.”
The officer asked about security.
Mara described being taken into an office, ordered to return the receipt, and told to sign a statement admitting she had copied private records.
“When I refused, they grabbed me.
I kept asking for Nora.”
Her voice broke.
She pressed her good hand against her mouth.
“They drove me off the property.
Said I could get her back when I calmed down and cooperated.”
Damon felt sick.
From the next room came the scrape of a spoon.
Mara looked toward it.
Then she placed the receipt on his desk.
At the bottom was an approval code.
Beside it appeared a printed name.
DAMON CROSS.
May you like
Mara watched him recognize it.
“Before you promise to help us,” she said, “tell me why your name is on the bill.”
