Gerald stared at her. Then he laughed bitterly. “And where will you be without me?”
Tommy answered, “Safe.”
Two local officers stepped from the second car.
Gerald backed away. “This is madness. Over old soup and street brats?”
Tommy’s gaze sharpened. “Not over soup. Over the fact that when the world let three boys starve, one poor woman fed them anyway. Men like you count on kindness being weak. You were wrong.”
As the officers led Gerald away, he shouted, “Rich men always want something!”
Martha flinched.
Tommy heard it.
He turned to her gently. “He’s wrong. But there is something we want.”
Martha looked at him warily.
“We want you to come with us tomorrow. There is a building downtown with your name waiting over the door.”
Chapter 5: The Name Above the Door
The next morning, Martha wore the only clean dress she had not already patched twice.
She nearly refused to go. Women like her were not driven downtown in chauffeured cars. They did not belong in marble districts or sit before reporters. But Tommy had asked, not ordered, and Martha had lived too much of her life in fear.
So she went.
The building stood near the freight yards, renovated but not extravagant, with brick walls, wide windows, and a fresh sign covered by a white cloth. A small crowd had gathered: reporters, workers, church representatives, and several women from Martha’s boarding street.