Seventeen

Mrs. Wilson,

Would you please come to school to meet with me tomorrow? We need to discuss Cassandra.

Miss Taylor

Josie stared at the note she’d found under Cassandra’s bed. It looked like it had fallen out of her bag and lain there forgotten for a week. Miss Taylor would think she was an uninvolved, uncaring foster parent. She rubbed a hand over the ache drilling her forehead. She wanted to believe the note meant they needed to discuss good things, but the tightness in her stomach warned that wasn’t the case.

Each day that passed without word from home, Cassandra pulled further inside herself. While she’d never been the most outgoing child, she’d blossomed in the months since arriving. Now she’d retreated as if protecting herself.

Without letters from home, Cassandra feared the worst. Josie couldn’t blame her. Since letters hadn’t made it, Josie decided to take a proactive approach. She’d send a telegram and see if Annabelle could pass the word through her work.

Reaching the decision, Josie stood and changed out of her cleaning outfit into a nice dress. She carefully applied rouge and a touch of lipstick. Pulling on pumps and pinning on a hat, she grabbed her purse and headed out the door. Maybe she could catch Miss Taylor over lunch, explain she’d found the note today.

Josie walked the few blocks to the school. She entered the doors and wound through the halls to the fourth-grade classroom. When she peeked through the door, she found the room empty. Books were scattered across the surface of the desks, and the chalkboard was covered with division and multiplication problems.

What sounded like hundreds of feet pounded off the floor. Josie looked up to see a class headed her way. None of the children looked familiar until she spotted Cassandra, standing a head shorter than the other children, with the hint of a Mona Lisa smile teasing her features.

Miss Taylor led the way. A thin woman, she struck Josie as a person who enjoyed her charges. Maybe even delighted in her work.

A cautious smile curved Miss Taylor’s lips. “Mrs. Wilson.”

“Hello.” Josie played with her purse straps. “I’m sorry I haven’t stopped by earlier. I located the note this morning.”

A light—could it be relief—flickered in Miss Taylor’s eyes. “Let me get the class settled, and I’ll have a minute.”

“Thank you.” Josie smiled at Cassandra as the children walked into the classroom. The girl avoided her eyes and shuffled after the other children. Josie leaned against the wall while she waited. She had to establish contact with Cassandra’s family.

Father, give me insight into her heart. Show me what to do. And give me the same for Art. Something’s happening there that I don’t understand. She turned over her worries and fears while she waited.

Her eyes were closed when the door opened. Josie pushed off the wall and watched Miss Taylor.

“I’ve got a few minutes but will have to keep a watch on the students.”

“Of course.”

“Cassandra’s struggling.”

Josie nodded. “I’ve noticed the shadow of a change at home, too. Is she keeping up academically?”

“Yes. I’d move her up another grade, but she’s struggling so with the children right now that I don’t think it would be best for her.”

“Could the problem be that she’s not challenged?”

Miss Taylor shook her head. “She is a little girl who is afraid.”

“Do you have any recommendations?” Josie nibbled on a nail.

“I’m not a social worker, but something has to happen. Cassandra’s miserable. And we have to make a change. I’m concerned she’s making enemies.”

“Does she still refuse to say the pledge?”

“No. She’s just quiet, and that’s okay.” Miss Taylor shrugged. “We’ll deal with that later. This is more important.” Miss Taylor straightened her skirt and turned as if to go back in the classroom. “Maybe see if there are other evacuated children around here that she can get together with. Maybe knowing she’s not alone will make a difference.”

“Thank you,” Josie whispered as Miss Taylor returned to her classroom.

Josie marched to the telegraph office and sent a message to Cassandra’s parents, begging them to send some word to Cassie. She walked home and asked to use the phone. While she didn’t like asking Annabelle for help—she’d helped raise Kat, after all, and that girl was turning out well—Josie knew she couldn’t take care of this situation on her own.

The thought of Kat covered from head to toe in dirt but grinning so big her face just about cracked warmed Josie. Maybe Cassandra needed a good romp in a mud puddle. Art didn’t seem to need much from Josie right now. She didn’t have a baby. What she did have was an eight-year-old who’d retreated into a world of pain.

Josie dialed Annabelle’s number and left a message. She spent the balance of the afternoon praying for Cassie. As soon as the girl got home, she ran to her room and slammed the door. Wails echoed through the apartment. Josie looked at the door, then approached it. She resisted asking what was wrong. Cassie’s answer would be nothing, but the slammed door said something else.

“Cassandra, I’ve got cookies and milk ready for you. Fresh from the oven.”

Silence answered her.

“I’ll bring some to you.”

“Thank you.” The muffled words sounded watery.

Josie went to the kitchen and brought a plate with several chocolate chip cookies and a tall glass of milk to Cassie’s room. She opened the door. “Here you go, sweetie.”

Cassandra looked at her with watery eyes. “Am I in trouble?”

“No. I want to help you. I’m so sorry you’re not happy. Is there something I can do to help?”

Cassandra’s chin quivered. “I want to go home. I want to see my mum and hug my grandmum.”

“I wish I could do that for you.”

“It was my birthday yesterday, and nobody knew.”

A rock settled in Josie’s stomach. How could she have forgotten to learn such an important date?

❧

Art sat in the unexpected meeting, curious about why E. K. Fine had called it. His normal pattern was to head home as soon after noon as possible on Fridays. Instead, it was four thirty, and he’d called a full staff meeting of non-plant employees.

“Know what this is about, Art?” Stan plopped onto the chair next to him and crossed his legs and arms.

“No. I bet Charlie does.”

Charlie laughed. “I don’t have the pulse of the company like that. We’ll learn together.”

That worried Art. E.K. acting outside his normal patterns seemed a red flag. The guy didn’t like to put in one extra minute of work. He enjoyed resting on the laurels of his father and grandfather. Maybe that’s why Grandfather had adamantly refused to help Art. Wanted to keep him from getting lazy on the money others accumulated.

More employees filtered in until there was standing room only. The air turned stale and hot. Art pulled at his shirt collar. Someone along the wall opened a couple windows, but even the crisp October air didn’t help much. More ties and bowties got loosened.

E.K. swaggered into the room, and Art sat straighter in his chair.

“Attention.” The murmur of voices drowned out E.K. He clapped to little avail. Art whistled through his fingers. The piercing sound caused the conversations to die. “Thank you.” E.K. placed his hands on the table in front of him. “I’ve called you here for a quick meeting. Our family has decided to sell this company.” Murmuring rose from around the room. E.K. waved them down. “I am pleased to announce that we have a purchaser and a signed agreement. I wanted you to hear from me before rumors circulated. The Wilson Holding Company out of Dayton has acquired us.”

Art could see E.K.’s mouth continue to move, but nothing registered. All he heard translated into static. Grandfather had bought the company? Why? The family had never done anything related to manufacturing musical instruments. It seemed far outside the investment parameters Grandfather had developed.

Art knew from working on the books things weren’t as solid as E.K. wanted everyone to believe. But this? He tried to relax his shoulders, but he wanted to leave.

This could not be good news for him. Not when Grandfather had made it so clear he was not impressed with Art’s choice of employer or position.

“It’s my pleasure to introduce the man who will soon own this great company.”

Art watched as Grandfather strode into the room. His suit was fully buttoned, and a precisely folded handkerchief was tucked in the pocket. With his silver hair and mahogany walking stick, Grandfather looked ready to take on anything the company could throw his way.

Art swallowed and wished he’d chosen a seat toward the back. There was no way Grandfather would overlook him. Nope. Grandfather located him immediately, his frown lightening a moment before returning.

“Good afternoon.” Grandfather’s rich voice filled the conference room. “My company is interested in this company because I see great potential here. It will be up to each of you to prove that you have the ability to contribute to its growth. I am not interested in employees who maintain the status quo.” His stare bored through Art. “That will be all.”

Grandfather turned on his heel and left the room. Art watched him leave. Why not stay long enough to say hi? There must be some event back in Dayton, though Grandfather would be hard pressed to make it home in time for anything tonight.

E.K. clapped his hands. “That will be all.”

Some people left the room as if they couldn’t wait to leave. Others gathered in small groups around the periphery. Art remained in his seat until he felt a sharp jab in his ribs.

“What are you waiting for, Wilson? Let’s get the weekend started.” Stan waggled his eyebrows and made a drinking motion.

Some folks couldn’t take no for an answer. “No, thanks. I’ve got some work to finish, and then it’s home for me.”

“I’ll drink one for you.” Stan strutted from the room.

Charlie shook his head as he watched the man leave. “Someday, his behavior will catch up with him.”

Much as Art might like to believe it, he had a feeling Stan was like a cat who always landed on his feet. “I’ve got to get a project wrapped up. See you next week.”

Art stumbled into the office and sank into his chair. He laid his head against the back, eyes closed, as he tried to wipe fear from his mind. Grandfather had not bought the company just to put him on edge. No, Grandfather was a businessman who carefully investigated potential companies. He’d seen something that made the company look like a good investment, one that happened to employ Art.

Art looked at the stack of ledgers on his desk, then shook his head. No way his mind would focus enough to finish them accurately tonight. Time to go home and forget about work. He had to before he drove himself crazy trying to anticipate what Grandfather would do once he officially owned the company. Art grabbed his swagger coat and bolted from the office.

He needed some space. Grandfather had made it clear the last time they visited that he wanted Art to stand on his own two feet. How did buying the company Art worked for figure into that independence unless Grandfather wanted to teach him something?