“The one from the news,” he nodded. “Harrison Tech is my company.”
“Grandma Martha says rich people only help poor people when they want something in return,” Lily said bluntly.
The remark hit Edward like a physical blow. It was exactly the kind of straightforward observation Emma would have made.
“Sometimes that’s true,” he admitted, “but sometimes people just want to do what’s right. Like you did.”
Their conversation was interrupted by a distant call. “Lily! Where are you, honey? We need to get moving.”
Lily looked back over her shoulder. “That’s Grandma. I have to go.”
“Will you be back tomorrow?” Edward asked, trying not to sound desperate. “I promise, I just want to talk.”
Lily hesitated, then gave a quick nod. “I come here most mornings to find things to sell before school.”
“I’ll be here,” Edward promised. “And Lily… thank you again. You saved my life.”
She gave him a quick smile before vanishing into the maze of old cars, leaving Edward standing alone. His heart was racing with a mix of hope and terror. The girl was real, the resemblance was undeniable. And now he had a name—Grandma Martha—and the knowledge that they were struggling enough that a ten-year-old was picking through scrap yards before school.
Walking back to his car, Edward pulled out his phone. “Martin, I found her. And it’s her, Martin. I’d bet my life on it. I need you to do something for me. I need everything you can find on a woman named Martha who’s raising a granddaughter named Lily, living somewhere near the industrial district.”
The local farmer’s market was buzzing with weekend shoppers, but Edward’s focus remained pinned on the small figure weaving through the produce stalls. Following Lily had been Martin’s idea—not to scare her, but to learn more about her circumstances before making any official moves. Now, watching her carefully inspect bruised apples sold at a discount, Edward felt a surge of emotion: part pity, part guilt.
Lily wore a backpack that looked too heavy for her narrow shoulders as she selected the least damaged fruit, counting out coins from a small cloth pouch. Her careful consideration of every cent spoke volumes about her life.
As she finished her shopping and headed toward the exit, Edward made his move, timing it so the encounter seemed accidental.
“Lily!” he called out, feigning surprise. “I thought that was you.”
The girl turned, recognition flickering on her face. “Mr. Harrison,” she said, clutching her small bag of groceries.
“Please, call me Ed,” he smiled. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
Lily shifted uncomfortably. “I was just getting a few things for Grandma Martha.”
Edward gestured toward a small café at the edge of the market. “I was just about to grab some lunch. Would you like to join me? My treat, of course.”
Weariness showed in her features, but hunger seemed to win out. “I have to call Grandma first. She worries.”
“Of course,” Edward nodded, impressed by her caution.
He watched as Lily used a payphone near the market office, her tone careful as she explained she’d met the man from the salvage yard and he’d offered to buy her lunch. After some discussion, she nodded. “Okay, Grandma. I will. Two o’clock, I promise.”
“Everything okay?” Edward asked when she returned.
“She says it’s fine, but I have to be home by three,” Lily replied, her eyes still assessing him with a wisdom beyond her years.
Over sandwiches and milkshakes, Edward kept the conversation light, asking about school and her interests. Lily gradually relaxed, revealing a bright intelligence that made his heart ache with recognition. She loved science, just like Emma. Her favorite subject was astronomy, just like Emma.
“The stars make me feel calm,” Lily explained, stirring her milkshake thoughtfully. “Like no matter what problems we have down here, they just keep shining.”
“My daughter felt the same way,” Edward said softly.
Lily looked up sharply. “You have a daughter?”
Edward hesitated, then reached for his wallet. “I had a daughter, Emma. She would be about your age now.”
He slid a photo across the table—the same school portrait from the bedroom. Lily studied the photo, her expression unreadable.
“What happened to her?”
“There was an accident,” Edward replied, carefully avoiding terms that might frighten her. “Two years ago, during that big storm, our car went off a bridge. I survived, but Emma was never found.”
“I’m sorry,” Lily said, sliding the photo back to him. “That must be really hard.”
“It is,” Edward agreed, noting how she avoided looking too closely at the image. “But lately, I’ve had reason to hope that miracles are possible.”
Lily toyed with her straw wrapper. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because when I first saw you at that yard, I thought I was seeing a ghost,” Edward admitted. “You look remarkably like Emma. You even have the same scar.”
Lily’s hand went unconsciously to the crescent mark near her temple. “Lots of people have scars.”
“Of course,” Edward nodded, backing off slightly. Her wariness was startling. He changed the subject, asking about her grandmother.
Lily’s expression brightened as she described Martha Miller—a 72-year-old retired schoolteacher who had been raising Lily “for as long as I can remember.” The discrepancy didn’t escape Edward, but he didn’t push.
“Where do you and your grandma live?” he asked casually.
Lily’s guard went back up instantly. “Over by the River District,” she said evasively. “We have to move sometimes.”
“That must be tough,” Edward said, keeping his tone neutral.
Lily shrugged with a practiced indifference. “Grandma says home is where we are together, not a place.”
The sentiment struck Edward deeply. It was exactly what he had lost sight of after Emma disappeared—the understanding that a house, no matter how grand, isn’t a home without the people you love.
“Your grandma sounds like a remarkable woman,” he said sincerely. “I’d really like to meet her.”
Lily studied him for a long moment, as if making a difficult decision. “Maybe you can,” she finally said. “She needs help with her medicine, but she’s too proud to ask.”
“Would she accept help from me, do you think?” Edward asked.
