Chapter 5 - The Woman at the Laundry Gate
I didn’t go to Ruth’s house.
I went to Professor Santos’s.
By nine that evening, Liam slept in a borrowed crib beside a bookshelf, and my mother’s papers lay on a dining table that didn’t wobble.
Professor Santos made rice and fried eggs.
I ate too quickly.
She pretended not to notice.
“The university has a legal aid clinic,” she said.
“I spoke to Attorney Mateo Reyes.
He can meet us tomorrow.”
“What if Carmina takes back her donations?”
“That’s the university’s problem.”
“Dr. Cruz didn’t say that.”
“No,” she said.
“He didn’t.”
At seven the next morning, Ruth sent an address.
Public laundry.
Back gate.
Come with someone.
Professor Santos drove.
Ruth waited beneath an awning, twisting a towel between her hands.
When she saw Liam, her face crumpled.
“Your mother bought that blanket with her Christmas bonus.”
I looked down at the red fabric.
“She told me.”
“She wanted a yellow one.
The red was cheaper.”
For a moment, the three of us stood silently beside the humming machines.
Then Ruth took a plastic pouch from her shopping bag.
“These are photographs Teresa gave me.”
The pictures showed ledger pages, vouchers, and an employee access log.
“Why didn’t you bring them to me?”
Ruth’s eyes filled.
“Because they came to my house after the funeral.
They said Teresa had taken company money.
They said helping her family would make me part of it.”
“Did you believe them?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
“My husband can’t work.
My daughter’s school fees come through the foundation.”
Anger rose in me.
So did understanding.
I hated having both.
Ruth rubbed the towel harder.
“Your mother found the payments by accident.
She was cleaning after a meeting.
A folder had fallen behind a cabinet.”
“Scholarships?”
Ruth nodded.
“She recognized your name.
Then other names.
Students she knew still came to work hungry.”
“Who signed them?”
“A clerk prepared the forms.
Someone else approved them.”
“Carmina?”
“I never saw her sign.”
That mattered.
I wrote it down.
“What are the originals?”
“A payment register.
Your mother hid it before security searched her locker.”
“Where?”
Ruth looked toward the street.
“In the place nobody thought she owned.”
Before I could ask, a black vehicle slowed beside the gate.
Ruth stopped speaking.
A man in a gray shirt lowered the window.
“Mrs. Dizon.
You missed your shift.”
Her face went pale.
Professor Santos stepped forward.
“She’s speaking with friends.”
The man looked at the pouch in my hand.
Then he smiled.
May you like
“Careful, Bea.
People have already started asking whether you’re fit to raise that baby.”
