Chapter 21: Trespass

Frank walked into the mailroom and stopped in the middle of the floor.

He held out a bunch of pink carnations still in their grocery-store plastic.

He smiled at fifty strangers.

"I'm so sorry to interrupt," he said. "I'm the proud father."

Nobody laughed.

Clara felt Miles move half a step closer to her, until his shoulder was almost touching hers.

"Frank," she said.

"Dad," he said, warmly. "Come on, sweetheart, I came all this way."

"You're not supposed to be here."

"It's a school. It's open to the public."

"Not to you," Miles said.

Frank looked at him with amused patience.

"And this is the young man," he said to the room. "The famous letter writer. I hear he writes very nice letters."

A ripple went around the mailroom.

"Funny," Frank went on, easily.

"I've been trying to give my daughter a gift for three weeks, and every time somebody tells me to get lost."

"What kind of school is this?"

He turned in a slow circle, talking to the whole room.

"She's been through a lot," he told them, softly.

"Money trouble. I'm not proud to say it. She gets confused, and she says things."

Clara's heart was going very hard.

She had heard this voice at kitchen tables and at landlords' doors.

She had heard rooms go soft around it.

This time she stepped forward, with her own letter still crushed in her hand.

"He forged my name," Clara said.

Her voice carried.

"He took out an eleven thousand dollar loan and a credit card in my name."

"A man in a gray jacket has been following me for a month."

"Clara, honey..."

"On Monday I signed a legal statement with your name on it."

"The county has it."

Frank's smile was still on his face, but it had stopped moving.