The Pink Bonnet Read online

  “My background?” He’d told her nothing of it. Instead, he’d skirted his history until the time he won a full scholarship to Vanderbilt Law School. How had she found out?

  “I know all, Mr. Vance.”

  He clenched his hands but gave her a polite smile. Or his best attempt at it.

  “I hope you will prove yourself worthy of my trust in you.”

  “Of course I will.”

  “That’s good. Very good.”

  He’d do what it took to prove that her faith in him was warranted. “So what happens with Millie now?”

  “She’ll be placed with a much more suitable family, one who can provide for her every need.”

  “And if she can’t be placed?”

  “Don’t worry, Mr. Vance, I will find her a placement.”

  What noble people who took in such children. “That’s wonderful. I’m glad to be able to help.”

  She reached across Millie, who now rocked against the back of the seat, and patted Percy’s hand, her fingers like ice. “I’m happy to have you. We train up children in the way they should go.”

  The Bible reference warmed him through, and he thanked the Lord for bringing him to this place where he could do good for society’s most vulnerable.

  They rolled into the heart of Memphis, down Madison Street, tall brick and stone buildings rising like canyon walls on either side of them. Cars’ horns honked, and the trolley’s bell clanged.

  The chauffeur pulled in front of a seven-story stone building with arched doorways overseen by lions’ heads and pairs of columns supporting the second and third stories. The Goodwyn Institute, as this building was known, housed not only the office of the Tennessee Children’s Home Society and other businesses but also a library and an auditorium.

  “Here we are, Mr. Vance. If you could leave those contracts we discussed earlier, I will see to them tomorrow.”

  “You don’t want me to come with you to drop off Millie?”

  “I can manage quite well.”

  “But she’s so fiery.” Despite her size, Miss Tann wouldn’t be able to carry and control the child.

  “Nothing a little discipline won’t rectify.”

  Percy stiffened. Just how was Miss Tann going to discipline her?

  “I can come and get her settled.”

  “James is quite capable. He’s been assisting me for years, long before you ever came along.”

  “But—”

  Miss Tann turned to him. “That will be all, Mr. Vance. You may exit the car.”

  “Ma’am?”

  “We can handle her from here.”

  “I’m happy to help.”

  “I said that will be all.” Her nostrils flared.

  He stepped out of the automobile and onto the sidewalk, waves of heat rising from the concrete. But as he stood there, the car pulling away from the curb and into the flow of traffic, little Millie turned and knelt on the car seat, looking out the back window after him, her face shadowed by the pink bonnet.

  By the time Cecile had arrived at the offices of the Tennessee Children’s Home Society last night, the building was dark. Everyone had left for the day, so she’d trudged home without her daughter. Sleep had proved elusive, but she wouldn’t spend another restless night. Today she would get Millie back. She would locate her and bring her home.

  Cecile spun in a circle as she surveyed her small apartment. There in the corner, on the big bed where Nathaniel had died, lay Millie’s well-loved pink quilt. One drawer of the battered bureau, now empty of her husband’s clothes, was filled with Millie’s dresses. Lace-trimmed socks and frilly underwear occupied another drawer. Neither Miss Tann nor Mrs. Ward had packed any of Millie’s belongings.

  The only item Millie took with her besides the clothes on her back was her pink bonnet, the one Cecile had bought when she’d found out she was pregnant and hoped that she would have a little girl. She opened another of the bureau’s drawers and retrieved a length of pink satin ribbon. Along with a few flowers, she’d used the material to embellish the plain bonnet. She looped the ribbon around her wrist and knotted it. It was the one item tying her to her daughter, their one connection.

  In the kitchen, a stack of secondhand books stood on the scarred table, waiting for Cecile to read them to her daughter. Beside that sat a pile of paper and a handful of crayons. When she got home, Millie would color beautiful pictures, and they would decorate the rooms with her artwork.

  First Nathaniel was gone then Millie. Without them, there was no joy. Oh, when she saw her daughter, she would cry. That was a given. She would try not to, but she would. Maybe they both would. They could stop on the way home for ice cream. What a treat that would be. A smile broke out on Cecile’s lips as a picture came to mind of Millie with chocolate all over her face. She wouldn’t even scold her daughter for not eating neater. Today was special. Today Millie would have free rein.

  Cecile dressed in her best brown wool suit, the one she’d worn the day she buried Nathaniel. Using a hot iron she’d heated on the stove, Cecile crimped her bobbed hair. She had to make her best impression on Miss Tann, show her she had the means to provide for Millie. That she was a good, loving, kind mother.

  She had but one tube of lipstick, the one she’d used on her wedding day. She saved it only for very special occasions. She didn’t even wear it to church on Sundays. But today deserved lipstick. She ran it over her lips and blotted. Perfect.

  A colony of butterflies had taken up residence in her stomach. Why did her hands shake? She had nothing to be nervous about. This was her own flesh and blood, her dearly loved child. She wouldn’t come home without her.

  She pulled up her stockings and slipped her feet into her spectator pumps. Once she had settled a tan cloche hat on her head and picked up her box bag pocketbook, she left the apartment. When she returned, Millie would be with her.

  She kept herself from skipping all the way to Miss Tann’s office in the Goodwyn Institute on Madison Avenue, the many buildings of the city’s downtown looming above her. By the time she stood in front of the white stone office building, she was winded and warm. She willed her breathing and heart rate to return to normal. An impossible feat. Instead, she drew herself up to her full height, entered the building, and rode the elevator to the fifth floor. There was the office, the gold stenciling on the door’s frosted window proclaiming this to be the Tennessee Children’s Home Society.

  She entered the small office and approached the brown-haired receptionist. “I’m here to see Miss Tann. I’m Mrs. Dowd to pick up my daughter, Millie.”

  “I’ll let her know you’re here.” The slip of a girl disappeared, and a few moments later, Georgia Tann limped through the door.

  “Mrs. Dowd, please, step into my office.”

  Cecile followed the imposing rather manly woman into a modest office dominated by a large, dark wood desk. Photographs of smiling infants and children covered the wall, and a window overlooked the busy street.

  “You are here about your daughter?”

  “That’s correct.” Cecile fiddled with the ribbon at her wrist.

  Miss Tann settled herself in a straight wood chair behind the desk. She rubbed her whiskered chin. “Do you have a job, Mrs. Dowd?”

  Cecile crossed her arms so Miss Tann wouldn’t see her hands tremble. She inhaled, long and deep, to steady her voice. “A part-time one at a nursery school. I haven’t been able to secure full-time employment, but I’m searching hard. I have enough money to last me until the new year.”

  “And your husband has passed away.” Miss Tann spoke without any warmth in her voice.

  “More than a year ago, yes. And all this time, I’ve been providing for our daughter. Nathaniel left me with some savings, so we haven’t been destitute. We haven’t gone hungry. We have a place to live.”

  “Do you have any family in the city?”

  “No.”

  “And I saw your apartment yesterday.”

  Mrs. Ward had let the woman into
her home without her permission?

  “It is not a fit place for a child.”

  “It’s not Buckingham Palace, but we have lived there for three years, since right after Millie’s birth. I keep a clean house.”

  “But not a safe one. Mrs. Ward told me about the broken glass.”

  Of course she had. And here she had trusted the woman. “Accidents happen. Millie wasn’t seriously injured.”

  “But you aren’t able to provide the oversight such a strongwilled child needs.”

  “My daughter and I love each other. Please, I need her, and she needs me.” Oh please, God, please give me Millie. “She’s all I have of my husband. She’s a piece of me, my heart, my soul, my everything.”

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Dowd. We at the Tennessee Children’s Home Society don’t feel you are a fit parent.”

  “What?”

  “Besides, you signed her over to us.”

  “I did no such thing.” Cecile’s head rang.

  “You relinquished your rights.” Miss Tann folded her square hands.

  “Show those papers to me. Show them to me now.”

  Miss Tann turned to a large gray metal filing cabinet on her right and withdrew a folder from it that she slid across the desk to Cecile. “See for yourself.”

  Typed across the top of the page were the words Relinquishment of Child.

  Miss Tann turned the pages until she came to the last one. There, at the bottom, was Cecile’s name. “That isn’t my signature.”

  “It appears to be.” Miss Tann pointed to the scribble across the paper.

  “No.” She twisted her wedding ring. “Mrs. Ward must have forged my signature.”

  “You signed them. Everything is legal.”

  This wasn’t happening. Couldn’t be. She clutched the piece of ribbon. If only she could hold Millie. Where was she?

  Miss Tann collected the papers. “Your daughter will be adopted by a fine family with the means to support her well.”

  It was almost as if she heard Miss Tann’s words from underwater. “Adopted?” Cecile gripped the ribbon tighter until it cut off the blood supply to her fingers.

  “Your daughter will have a much better life than you could ever give her.”

  “She should have the life I can give her.”

  Miss Tann cracked her knuckles. “That’s not possible.”

  Cecile’s voice rose in pitch, and she raised herself from the chair. “You kidnapped her.”

  “I would thank you to speak in a civilized tone, or I will have you removed from this office.”

  Cecile didn’t sit, but she spoke in a low growl. “You will not get away with stealing my daughter. I will get her back.”

  As cool as if she were having iced tea on the front porch, Miss Tann eyed Cecile. “That is quite impossible.”

  Chapter Three

  As Percy reached to open the Tennessee Children’s Home Society’s office door, it flew open, and a thin young woman rushed out past him. In her wake, the scent of roses filled his senses.

  “Excuse me, ma’am?”

  She came to a dead stop.

  He approached her. “Can I help you?”

  Her shoulders shook.

  “You seem upset.” He played with the change in his pocket. What should he do?

  She whirled around. Red rimmed her eyes. “Can you help me get my daughter back?”

  He stepped away. “Pardon me?”

  “That woman.” She pointed toward the office. “She kidnapped my child.”

  “Miss Tann isn’t in the habit of kidnapping children. She has their best interest at heart.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I’m her legal assistant, Mr. Percy Vance.”

  “Well, Mr. Vance, she conned my neighbor into forging my signature. I wasn’t even home when she stole Millie.”

  “She wouldn’t commit such a crime.”

  Her round face reddened. “Like employer, like employee. I don’t need or want your help.” She raced down the hall and disappeared into the stairwell.

  He shrugged and entered the windowless outer office. The low ceilings closed in on him. Miss Stewart, the perky brunette who sat behind an oak desk clacking away at her typewriter, flashed him a grin and gave him a tiny wave. Nothing but a flirt.

  He nodded but schooled his features lest she get the wrong impression. He had no interest in her. “Is Miss Tann available?”

  “She’s with a client, Mr. Vance. Have a seat. She shouldn’t be much longer.”

  He settled into the buttery-smooth leather couch and picked up the June issue of Life magazine from the polished coffee table. The cover pictured a fashionably dressed woman and a list of headlines, including one about a man named Hitler in Germany. He flipped through the pages featuring advertisements for White Star line, Listerine, and Lucky Strike cigarettes.

  The black telephone on the desk jingled, and Miss Stewart answered it. “Yes, Mr. Crump, she’s here. Oh. Oh yes, of course, I’ll put you through to her right away.” The secretary pushed a button on a speaker. “Mr. Crump is on the line for you.”

  Miss Tann’s tinny voice answered. “Thank you. I’ll take it.”

  Of course she would. When Crump had led Memphis as mayor, he’d ruled with an iron fist. Sure, the city was one of the most beautiful in the country, thanks to him, but at what cost? Even though he’d left for national office a few years ago, he still held considerable political sway here. No one crossed Crump or his cronies. Not even Miss Tann.

  Miss Tann’s client exited. Percy flipped through a National Geographic magazine and even a copy of Good Housekeeping with a print of a young boy and girl picking flowers on the front. That was the kind of life Miss Tann was giving these poor unfortunates. A good, happy one. Once he’d paged through a few more magazines, he drummed his fingers on the coffee table. He had other business to take care of. Miss Tann wasn’t his only client.

  At long last, her door opened, and she waved him into her office. She shut the door behind him and took her spot at her desk, seeming to dwarf the large piece of furniture even though she wasn’t that heavy. “Do you have those court papers?”

  “Yes, right here.” He attempted to focus on what Miss Tann was saying to him, but the weeping woman haunted him. “I’m sorry. I passed a woman in the hall who claimed you stole her daughter. Why would she make such an accusation?”

  Miss Tann tsked. “So awful. She’s an unfit mother, and I had to tell her so in no uncertain terms. She claims she didn’t give consent to her daughter’s adoption, but she did.”

  “How awful for her.”

  “No, Mr. Vance, not awful for her but for her daughter. Imagine growing up in those circumstances.” She cast a soft glance at him. “Like you did. Now the child has a chance at a better life.”

  He reviewed the weeping woman’s face in his mind’s eye, and a familiarity about her struck him. “I think I know her.”

  “Perhaps her daughter. She was that wild child we took custody of yesterday.”

  He couldn’t keep his mouth from falling open. “And she’s been adopted already?”

  “Not quite. But soon. No need to tell Cecile Dowd that. It’s a foregone conclusion.”

  “She claims her neighbor forged her signature.”

  “Of course not. She didn’t comprehend. You know, the poor don’t have much education or a whole lot of understanding. You can explain things to them over and over, and these cows just don’t get it into their heads. They’re nothing more than breeders.”

  They discussed several documents, and she gave him instructions on what to do. Even still, his mind wandered to the woman in the hall. Dowd was the name, wasn’t it?

  “Mr. Vance, have you heard a single word I’ve said?”

  He startled and dropped a handful of papers on the floor. “Oh, I’m sorry. My mind wandered.” He bent to gather them.

  Miss Tann glared at him. “Well, corral it and get down to business.”

  Mrs. Dowd had dressed
neatly though simply. She carried herself with a certain grace, her neck elongated, her chin high, her steps soft.

  Yes, his parents had been uneducated, but that wasn’t the case with everyone who had financial constraints. Especially since the stock market crash. Men went from living in penthouses on Fifth Avenue in New York to riding the rails to find work and food. “Just one question.”

  “What?” Miss Tann huffed the word.

  “Yesterday, how did you know without speaking to her that she’s an unfit mother?”

  “Why do you take such an interest in that case? I’ve brought you on other home visits. You’ve been with me when I’ve removed other children.”

  He didn’t have a ready answer. Something about this situation haunted him. “I’m not sure. Maybe the pepper the child possessed. Maybe the way she cried for her mother. Maybe running into the woman in the hall. Whatever the case, it made an impression on me.”

  “Forget about her. In a little while, she’ll breed other children. That’s what her kind do.”

  “Don’t you give the parents some time to change their circumstances? Especially during this depression? There have to be thousands of people in this city alone who have fallen on hard times through no fault of their own.”

  “And the children should suffer because of it?” Miss Tann rose from her chair and leaned across the desk. “Who are you to question how I run my agency? You’re nothing but a small-time lawyer, struggling to make his way in the world, aren’t you?”

  He nodded, his Adam’s apple caught in his throat.

  “But you want to be more, don’t you?”

  Again he nodded.

  “Then I suggest that unless you want to return from whence you came, you keep your nose out of my business. I know what I’m doing. I don’t need your questions.”

  Percy clutched the desk’s edge, his palms damp. “Just one more. Where is the child now?”

  Miss Tann fisted her hand and thumped the desk, her bobbed hair jerking with the motion. “How dare you ask? That is none of your business.” She was all but roaring. Then she relaxed her shoulders and softened her voice. “Why are you persisting?”