Chapter 3: Breakfast with the Master**
The grand dining hall had twenty-four velvet-upholstered chairs, a crystal chandelier, and a mahogany table that could seat a diplomatic delegation. For the last five years, Arthur Glenn had eaten every meal alone at the head of that table.
Today, sitting across from him, perched high on a stack of leather-bound encyclopedias, was Nora.
The kitchen staff moved with quiet amazement, placing a silver plate of fluffy scrambled eggs, buttered toast, and fresh strawberries in front of the little girl. Nora stared at the feast, keeping her hands tucked under her knees.
“Go on,” Arthur encouraged, picking up his coffee cup. “Strawberries don’t bite.”
Nora picked up a single berry with two fingers, taking a minuscule bite. Her eyes lit up instantly. “It’s sweet! Like candy!”
Arthur chuckled, an unfamiliar sound in the cavernous room. “They’re fresh from California. Eat as much as you like.”
“Mama only buys the soft apples from the sale bin,” Nora remarked between bites. “She says the fancy fruit is for real people.”
The words struck Arthur like a blunt blow. *Real people.* He thought about his multimillion-dollar board meetings, the cutthroat corporate acquisitions, the vast empty mansion he called home. He had surrounded himself with luxury while the people maintaining his sanctuary lived on discounted fruit and sheer terror of losing their livelihoods.
“Your mother is a real person, Nora,” Arthur said quietly. “A very brave one.”
Nora nodded vigorously, wiping strawberry juice on her cheek. “She’s the bravest. She works all night so I can have storybooks. But she gets sad when she looks at the shiny papers.”
“Shiny papers?” Arthur asked, setting his coffee down.
May you like
“The ones with the red letters,” Nora said. “They say ‘Overdue.’ Mama cries when she opens the envelopes.”
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