Chapter 21: Under Oath

The courtroom on Monday held a hundred people, and more waited on the stairs.

Conway's mother sat in the front row in her good blue coat.

She was small and gray, with her hands folded around a cane.

I had known her since I could walk.

She had given me cookies over the back fence for twenty years.

She had never once said a word about being anyone's secret.

"Mama," Conway said quietly, and knelt in front of her.

"Don't fuss," she said. "I'm not afraid of that woman."

Eleanor sat at the opposite table with two lawyers from Boston.

She did not look at anyone.

The judge was an old man with half-moon glasses, and he had known the Harcourts for forty years.

"This is a petition to contest a clause in a will," he said.

"The trustee claims the sealed letter is forged and the bracelet planted."

"Call your first witness."

Eleanor's lawyer stood.

"The trustee calls Mrs. Redfern."

My stomach clenched.

Conway's mother rose, took her cane in both hands and walked to the stand alone.

She swore in a clear voice.

"Mrs. Redfern," the lawyer said. "You raised the petitioner."

"I did."

"You were paid."

"I was paid for my heart. That was nine years ago."

"You were paid, over the years, a great deal of money."

"I was."

"Isn't it true that you invented this story to extract more?"

A murmur went through the benches.

Conway's hands closed into fists.

His mother looked at the lawyer for a long moment.

"Young man," she said. "I lost a baby girl in April thirty-one years ago."

"She was nine days old. I buried her myself behind the church."

The courtroom went quiet.

"That same month, in the dark, a young maid from the big house walked up my path with a basket."

"She put it in my arms and said, 'Please.' I didn't know whose he was. I knew he was hungry."

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