The Stranger Who Bought Every Dish

CHAPTER 2 - A NAME FROM THE PAST

The dishes arrived faster than Ethan thought possible.

Soup. Bread. Roast chicken. Mashed potatoes. Even a slice of apple pie Daisy stared at as if it belonged to another world.

The old man watched them eat, but he barely touched his own plate. His eyes stayed fixed on the photograph trembling in Ethan's hand.

"Where did you get that?" he asked at last.

Ethan swallowed hard. "It was my mom's."

The man nodded once, though his face had gone tight around the mouth. "What was her full name?"

"Clara Bennett."

For a moment, the man closed his eyes. When he opened them again, they shone with something too deep for Ethan to name.

"My name is Walter Bennett," he said quietly. "Clara was my daughter."

Daisy stopped chewing. Ethan just stared.

That couldn't be right.

Their mother had never spoken about grandparents. Only once, when she was sick and half-asleep, she had clutched Ethan's wrist and whispered, Keep Daisy safe. And if things get bad, find the man in the picture. He'll know your eyes.

Ethan had thought fever made people say strange things.

Walter asked no questions about money, or where they had slept, or why they looked as if no one had washed their faces in days. He simply listened as Ethan, in broken pieces, explained.

Their mother had died three months earlier.

Their landlord had thrown them out after a neighbor reported the children were alone.

Since then, they had been moving from shelters to bus stations, staying ahead of people who wanted to separate them.

At that, Walter's hand clenched around his napkin.

"Who wanted to separate you?" he asked.

Ethan hesitated.

"A woman from social services came with our aunt. Aunt Lisa said Daisy would be 'easy to place,' but nobody wanted a ten-year-old boy."

Walter went completely still.

Then he said, very carefully, "Clara didn't have a sister."

Ethan's spoon slipped from his hand.

On the back of the photograph, under old water stains, Walter asked to see what was written.

There, in faded ink, were six words Ethan had never noticed before:

Not Lisa. Trust no one she sends.