Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies, but I do own my characters.
Kate sat stone-faced amongst the room full of lawyers, scratching her neck obsessively in a desperate attempt to escape the unease of the environment in which she found herself.
The men in the room - all either standing or sitting around her father's beloved oak desk - were in the process of determining the rightful heir to John Abbott's encompassing fortune. Due to the immense responsibility the heir would be required to exercise with such a great amount of money, one lawyer was assumed to be insufficient to determine the true wishes of the dearly departed.
Clara stood on the opposite side of the room to Kate. She was uncharacteristically picking her nails as she intently watched the commotion created by the group of men. Each man was talking loudly at the group, not caring whether their entreaties were being considered or had fallen on deaf ears. The legal bedlam made Clara's hands bleed.
Kate stopped her scratching to observe her aunt. Besides her bloody nails, Kate noticed that the woman's eyes were straining to see the document the lawyers hovered around and that they widened in paranoia at any sign of disagreement among the group. For the first time in what Kate would define as her second life, she saw her aunt visibly nervous.
Just as Kate had invariably tried to accomplish over the years, once again she endeavored to discover the source of her aunt's nervousness. It was obvious she was anxious about the final heir to her brother's fortune. "But," Kate thought, "what does the money really matter anyways? She would be just as miserable as she is now."
And there it was in its ugly truth. What impacted Kate the most about her aunt's nervousness - which was startling in itself - was the fact that she was nervous because she knew her life would never be what she wanted. No amount of money would satisfy her. Whether her aunt knew the truth or not about her fate, Kate wasn't entirely sure.
She couldn't help but pity the woman. Her entire life Clara had depended on her brother without fostering any kind of affection for him, and now there she was, her future written on the line of one legal document. If John Abbott hadn't awarded her anything before his death, she would have nothing to live on. Even if he had, she would have nothing. Sure, money would buy her food and water and that would last her for a while - but she had no loving memories of her brother to carry her soul through the rest of her miserable life. She had left her future to fate's hands, and Kate knew that fate was hardly kind.
Kate felt lighter. She stopped scratching her angry neck and set her hands in her lap. She realized that shewas the lucky one: although she'd never known life without tragedy, she would live the rest of her life knowing love, and those fond memories would get her through the toughest of times that she knew lay ahead.
Kate stood up, unnoticed by anyone in the room. She walked over to her aunt, who turned abruptly, startled by the girl's unanticipated proximity. Closely, Kate observed her aunt's face for emotion. Clara turned hastily away from Kate's face in discomfort and distrust, but the girl held her position nonetheless. She only had to wait a minute for Clara to timidly return her gesture. Overcome with a need to comfort her aunt, Kate bowed her head slightly, forcing the woman to find herself in a motherly position to the girl that she had sworn to make miserable.
Clara was shaking with doubt as she looked down at back of the girl's head and for the first time noticed her honey-colored hair. She had seen Kate every day since John had adopted her, but her bitterness kept her from noticing the girl's illuminated hair. The brightness of Kate's hair attracted Clara's hand, which she put on the crown of the girl's head. Clara lifted her face and focused her eyes on the nothing in front of her. "John," she said quietly; so quietly not even Kate could hear. Her shaking had stopped by the time she lifted her hand from Kate's head.
Kate was the only person in the room to watch as her aunt walked out of the door and out of her life forever.
Spot had made up his mind at the funeral. He was going to visit Kate, but not yet. He planned to wait exactly two weeks for everything to quiet down around her and as soon as her heart was clear, he would find her. That was his plan and he was going to stick to it. No temptation would force him to make the mistake of telling her his feelings too soon.
"Ey, boss," West called to Spot, who was at his familiar position on the docks atop several crates.
Spot acknowledged West's presence with a nod and a smirk. West climbed a few crates and sat next to his leader. "So what happened?" he asked.
Spot stared ahead. "What d'ya mean, what happened? Nothin' happened."
West looked confused. "Nothin'? Yeh didn' talk ta 'er or nothin'?"
Spot's upper lip curled. "Yeh think I was gonna go talk ta 'er right aftah 'er father died?"
West shrugged. "I 'spose yer right," West agreed. "Well, is that it then?"
"Nah, I'll go see 'er sometime. Zee'd have my hide if I didn't."
West let out a laugh. "Yeah, mine too."
The conversation was over and the boys reverted back to silence. Neither had purchased their papers for the day but were about to hop down from their wooden towers when Trip walked calmly down the docks.
"Whaddya need, Trip?" Spot asked, climbing down.
Trip looked uncomfortably at West, but handed Spot the paper he was carrying nonetheless. "I saw yeh hadn't bought yer papes yet. Thought I'd give yeh a heads-up," he said to a concentrated Spot.
Spot nodded his head in thanks and Trip walked off. West jumped down to join Spot. "What is it, boss?"
"Looks like Kate finally got a bit 'a luck," Spot said as he handed the paper to West.
West read the headline:
ABBOTT'S DAUGHTER WINS FORTUNE, DONATES TO HOSPITALS
West read the rest of the article. Apparently, Kate had donated the money in her father's memory to various hospitals around the state of New York, in the hopes of finding a cure for Tuberculosis. There were no direct comments from the girl, which surprised West. He didn't know a single person that wouldn't sell their mother's jewels to get a line in the papes.
"Jeez," West said. "An' she's sharin' it, looks like. Kin yeh imagine? All that money fer yerself. She must be nuts ta git rid of it."
Spot turned his head away from West and furrowed his brow. Recognizing Spot's resistance to comment on the article, West suggested, "Come on, let's get some papes."
West handed the paper back to Spot and the two walked to the Distribution Center. Once they had purchased their papers, they split up; Spot heading towards the city center and West heading towards the border with Manhattan.
Sales were slow that morning for West, but he maintained his upbeat pace as well as he could. By mid-day, his energy was worn and he wanted nothing more than to grab a bite to eat. Crossing into Manhattan territory, West was careful to make known to nearby newsies that he was not selling his papers. He walked through the street vendors until he came upon his favorite bread. Although more expensive than most, the bread filled him up like no other had ever been able to do, so he purchased a loaf with the change in his pocket and took a walk around the periphery of Manhattan.
West stopped to eat his bread, leaning against a stoic lamp post. He watched the people as they walked by: some were chatting, others were eating, but all were mesmerizing him. West quickly forgot his surroundings in his hypnosis, that is, until a light finger tapped him on the shoulder.
Ashamed at his inattentiveness and suspicious of retributive intentions, West grabbed the unsuspecting hand and turned around quickly to see its owner.
Emmalee stood in front of him, frightened by his reflexes and embarrassed at her own indiscretion. Her cheeks grew pink when she saw West's look of confusion.
"Please excuse me, I didn't mean to –" Emmalee began, West still holding her hand in defense.
Realizing the nature of his foe, West quickly shifted her hand in between the both of his. Although he didn't appear it, West was much more observant than anyone gave him credit for. He saw the chewed nails on Emmalee's hand and smiled to himself.
"No," he interrupted the girl. "Don' apologize. I jist wasn' expectin' yeh is all."
Emmalee smiled at the boy's manners. "I'm glad I found you."
West's smiled faded. "Yeh were lookin' fer me?"
Emmalee nodded quietly, still surprised by her cheeky decision to find the boy. "I was worried I would have to cross into Brooklyn, but here you are."
West's smile found its way to his face once more. "Well ain't this nice," he said cheerily. "Yeh wanna go sit in the park?"
Emmalee's smile was answer enough. The two walked farther into Manhattan until they came to a small park, and they sat on a park bench.
Emmalee fidgeted uncomfortably, nervous to be so close to a relatively unknown boy. West put his hands on his knees and rocked slightly back and forth next to the girl, unsure how to begin the conversation.
Emmalee could see the questions written in his eyebrows, but she didn't know how to answer them. "That was very nice of you to help Miss Abbott, you know."
West looked at her. "Ah, so she told yeh 'bout it? It was nothin', jist helpin' out a friend is all." His words surprised him. When did Kate go from being a stranger to a friend? He thought how funny it was that life could change so quickly.
"Well, it was nice anyway. She wanted to find you to tell you herself, but she's a bit preoccupied at the moment."
West nodded knowingly. "I'll bet," he ventured.
Emmalee looked at him surprised and then laughed. "Oh, of course you know! It's been all over the papers."
"Sure has," West said. "Pretty swell she gave it all away to those hospitals. Don' know if I coulda done it."
"Oh, she didn't give it all away to the hospitals," Emmalee said. Her face grew more intent. "That's why I had the time to come find you."
"Whaddya mean?" West asked.
"Well, as soon as they awarded her the money, she gave all the servants enough money to live on… forever probably. None of us will really have to work again."
She stopped to look at West, whose mouth had dropped open.
"It's true!" she insisted.
"But what about 'er aunt? She didn' get anythin'?" West asked.
"You know about her?" Emmalee asked, to which West nodded.
"I heard that Mr. Abbott had left her a menial sum in his will but no one can give it to her. While the lawyers were deliberating, we all saw her leave the house with her daughter, Carrie. We haven't seen her since, so I assume Kate hasn't either."
"She jist up an' left?"
"It would appear so," Emmalee replied. "Although I don't know where she would have gone."
West was looking at the ground thoughtfully. "Kate did alright fer herself, I guess."
Emmalee smiled. "She sure did. It's a shame we won't see her again, but I suppose she has a life to lead."
West's head shot up at Emmalee's comment. "Whaddya mean, yeh won't see 'er again?"
Realizing the limits of West's knowledge, Emmalee told him, "Why, yes. She bought a train ticket back to South Carolina. She's scheduled to leave this evening." Seeing the look on West's face, she asked "You didn't know? She didn't tell you?"
West grabbed Emmalee's hand and pulled her up from the bench. "Come wit me. We gotta tell Spot 'bout this."