“Jenny’s already filed concerns with the school counselor. If things don’t improve, social services is going to get involved.”
And once CPS started looking into things, no one had to finish the sentence.
Everyone knew the system was overwhelmed.
Kids got removed from the only family they had left. They got bounced between foster homes. Sometimes they got broken, like Lily.
“We need to move fast,” Garrett said. “Before CPS decides to act.”
“I might have something,” Shadow said. “Guy I know owns a small accounting firm. Needs someone for data entry and basic bookkeeping. Fifteen bucks an hour, benefits after 90 days, regular day shift.”
“He owes me a favor.”
“Would he hire someone without experience?”
“For me, he’ll take a chance.”
Garrett nodded.
“What about their housing situation?”
“Checked into that, too. Apartment’s in East Oakland, rough neighborhood. They’re three months behind on rent. Landlord’s been patient, but that won’t last forever.”
“How much?”
“Twenty-four hundred for the back rent. Seven hundred a month going forward.”
Garrett did the math.
It was a lot of money, but not impossible. Not if the club pooled resources.
“I’ll cover the back rent,” he said. “Anonymous donation.”
He looked at Shadow.
“Can you arrange for someone to deliver a gift card to a grocery store? Something substantial, maybe five hundred dollars. Put a note with it. For Sadie.”
“You sure about this?” Gears asked. “That’s a lot of money for someone you just met.”
“I’m sure.”
Garrett kept thinking about that crumpled dollar, about what it meant for a child to give away everything she had, about the kind of person who did that, and the kind of world that made it necessary.
“There’s something else,” Boulder said. “Something Jenny mentioned.”
“The school secretary told her a guy’s been asking questions. Some lawyer parent of another kid at the school wanted to know about Sadie’s living situation, about whether Marlene was a fit guardian.”
Garrett felt a chill that had nothing to do with the weather.
“What’s his name?”
“Preston Ashworth. Rich guy. Lives in the hills. His daughter’s in Sadie’s grade.”
“Why is he so interested in Sadie Mitchell?”
“Jenny doesn’t know. But he’s been making noise about protecting the children of our community, whatever that means.”
Garrett filed the name away for later consideration.
Right now, the priority was making sure Sadie had food to eat and a roof over her head.
Everything else could wait.
The following Tuesday, Garrett was at Rosy’s Diner at 7:15, coffee in front of him, crumpled dollar still in his wallet.
At 7:30, the door chimed and Sadie Mitchell bounded in like a small pink hurricane.
“Mr. Garrett!”
Her face lit up when she saw him.
“You came back.”
“Said I might.”
She slid into the booth across from him, practically vibrating with energy.
“Guess what? The most amazing things have been happening. My aunt got a new job, a real job with a desk and a computer and everything.”
“And someone paid our back rent. All of it. And there was a gift card in our mailbox for groceries. And now we have food in the fridge. Actual food.”
She had to stop to breathe.
“And Aunt Marlene cried, but happy tears, not sad tears.”
“That’s great news,” Garrett said, keeping his expression carefully neutral.
“It’s like magic. Like someone’s looking out for us.”
Sadie tilted her head, studying him with those too-perceptive eyes.
“You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you, Mr. Garrett?”
“Don’t know what you mean.”
“Hm.”
She didn’t look convinced, but she let it go.
“Anyway, Aunt Marlene gave me money for breakfast. Real money.”
She pulled a five-dollar bill from her pocket and smoothed it on the table proudly.