Free Innocent by Eric Walters Page A

knew it was true.
    “It’s as if somebody has turned back the hands of time. Same eyes, same smile, even the same voice.”
    “She does sound like her mother,” Mrs. Remington said. “Exactly.”
    “And she is exactly as beautiful.”
    Mrs. Remington chuckled. “I think both my boys had a little crush on her.”
    “I think it’s safe to say that she was loved by everybody, including you and both of your boys.” He turned to me. “Your mother was a flower, one whose life was ended far too soon.”
    I felt like I’d been kicked in the stomach. My legs suddenly felt wobbly, and it must have showed. Edward jumped to his feet, took me by the arm and eased me into a chair.
    “Get her something to drink!” he ordered.
    Mrs. Meyers came forward and placed a glass of water in my hand.
    “What happened? What happened?” Mrs. Remington cried out.
    “Your son was an insensitive twit is what happened,” Edward said. He got down on one knee and looked directly into my eyes. “Please forgive me.”
    “I’m fine…honestly.”
    “You were going to faint. Take a drink of water,” he said.
    I took a little sip and then a bigger one. I felt better. I went to get up, and he placed a hand on my shoulder.
    “Take a minute. Please, don’t make me feel any worse than I do now.”
    “There’s nothing for you to feel badly for. I’m just overly tired. I haven’t slept much since all of this happened.” That was true.
    “Mrs. Meyers, bring her a little something to nibble on,” Mrs. Remington said. “You’ve had a touch of the vapors,” she said to me.
    As quickly as the water had appeared, a bowl of soup was placed in front of me.
    “Now, dear mother, I assume it was no fortuitous turn of fate that brought Lizzy back into our midst but was more your hand. Is that correct?”
    “I still have a few connections,” Mrs. Remington said.
    “A few? I won’t even bother asking what machinations you undertook. I’m just grateful. I wish to make a toast. Mrs. Meyers, come and join us.” He poured wine into a glass and then topped up his mother’s glass and his own.
    “Raise your drinks. To my dear mother for bending fate, and to the return of our Lizzy. Welcome home.”

Ten
    I RUBBED THE polish off the spoon, held it up and examined it. It shone so brightly that I could catch a distorted vision of myself in it.
    In the background was the faint sound of classical music. I didn’t recognize the piece, but I had a feeling it was Bach. There was a certain intricacy, a layered, almost mechanical quality. Not that I meant mechanical in a bad way; it was a precision I found comforting. Anything I knew about music was taught to me by Mrs. Hazelton as we sat in her office.
    I picked up another spoon. I didn’t know how many I’d done or how many were left to do, but Mrs. Meyers had told me there was enough silverware to have a formal dinner party for sixty people. That was a lot of knives and spoons and forks, and then there were dozens and dozens of serving spoons, tongs, spatulas and flippers. On top of that, there were silver napkin rings, salt and pepper shakers, serving bowls and a dozen candelabras, each of which held six candles. I couldn’t even imagine how much all of this had cost, but I knew it was an amount far beyond what I’d ever earn.
    Even if I had the money, I wouldn’t spend it on a bunch of silverware. How many forks and knives did you need? What was the point in having all of this when it wasn’t ever used? Wouldn’t it be better to have sixty friends rather than cutlery for sixty people who never showed up?
    “You seem to be enjoying the music.”
    I startled slightly and turned to face Mrs. Remington standing in the doorway. I had been so absorbed I hadn’t heard her enter.
    “You were humming along,” she added.
    “Sorry if I disturbed you.”
    “You didn’t disturb me. Human voices are always a welcome sound in this house.”
    “I like Bach,” I said.
    “Do you have a