3

Chocolate

Sam sat in one of the plushy pink chairs Arthur kept in his study. Students often had visited him for help and he had discovered, through careful observation, that the most distressed students chose the cozy chair, despite its often prejudiced color.

She held a cup of tea to her lips. Warm wisps of steam rose from the green cup. She stared at her amber reflection. Her tears had long dried. Francis had left for one of his afternoon classes.

Arthur sat across from her, ankle over knee, and moving his foot restlessly. "So he doesn't know you're here? How'd you get here?"

"It wasn't hard." She said, a Southern twang dangling on her words. She stubbornly refused to let it go. She lowered the cup on to her lap, her reddish-purple dress bunched up on her lap. "I went to a friend. I told daddy I would be with Gretchen and that's where I went. Her older brother, Electric C—we call him that 'cause of an accident—offered to drive me to town. I said I had to see to the library. I went there and I waited for his red truck to leave. After that I walked here. He said to ring up a pay phone and tell him when to come get me. He has an awful soft spot for kids, he says."

"You're well spoken, young lady." Arthur said.

"Thank you."

Arthur watched her adjust her dress. She didn't turn to him.

"Does your father let you wear trousers?"

"You mean pants? Sure he does, but I told daddy that I wanted to do a play tea party with Gretchen so I wore this, to be believable."

Arthur began to wonder if Alfred's genius was present in his kin as well. Was unnaturally high IQ genetic? He was hungry for information and had to refrain from begging the girl to convince her father to simply show up.

He didn't have to.

"Why'd you come then, young lady?" Arthur asked politely.

Sam looked to wear Francis had been sitting. Without the Frenchman, Arthur would never have comforted her into detailing anything without bursting into tears. With her passing glance, Arthur felt inadequate.

"I came to get daddy to come to you. He's miserable."

"Does he hit you?" Arthur asked, his eyes burning with half-hidden rage.

"No!" Sam said, shaking her head furiously. "No, he'd never. But I see him brooding. He doesn't drink or smoke, so he doesn't do anything bad. He just sits there… Thinking. He never stops and sometimes he walks through our little farm without a word. I'm worried for him."

Arthur nodded. "I see. How do you expect him to come? He's a stubborn man."

"I don't know." Her eyes began to water.

Arthur flushed. "Oh, dear, I'm sorry child. I forgot your age. Do you want a chocolate? Yes, there, take one." He nodded towards the gilded basket of wrapped chocolates set on the table next to the puffy pink chair.

She looked at it and picked out one wrapped in white paper. She unraveled it and ate it, smiling. "It's good."

"It's from Belgium. A good friend sent them. She has remarkable taste." Arthur watched the girl regard the chocolates, twisting the used wrapper between her small fingers. Her nails were short and scarred. "She's also frightfully intelligent. She trumps me at any moment. And she's very lovely and kind."

"What does she look like?" Sam asked quietly.

"Oh, she's a small woman with curly blonde hair. And she… She's pretty, I guess you would say. Her eyes are bright green, like emeralds."

"She sounds pretty." Sam agreed.

"You would do well to meet her."

Sam frowned, turning back to Arthur. "I still don't know what to do."

"Well, if we have a big problem, the best thing to do is to chop it into smaller, chewable pieces." Arthur advised. "Do you know why he doesn't want to come? Is it his pride?"

Sam shook her head.

Arthur perked up. Just when he thought he could find out nothing more about the boy, that he had reached a dead end, there was a glimmer of hope. If Alfred wouldn't assert himself, his kin would have to.

"Then why?"

"He had a bad experience with school before. He says that they weren't nice to him. You said he was smart, so I don't understand why they wouldn't like him." Her gaze radiated innocence.

Arthur nodded, contemplating to himself.

If he was treated badly, the school probably had a reason, no matter how botched. His history must be truly as bad as Arthur had suspected. Something in his family perhaps, some string of corruption that the school district considered a potential threat. Naturally, as instincts go, he was outcasted and therefore developed an even rougher hide. Had he been allowed and welcomed, perhaps his old wounds could have healed better

Or maybe not.

Maybe Alfred was born as a distrustful, cynical infant. Maybe he was born with an unending supply of love for mankind and good. It was hard to tell what a man once was when his past took great care to mask itself in his present.

Arthur, then, smiled.

Sam watched as he stood and dug through his mountains of books. He discovered an older tome with gold printing on a black cover. He set it on his table and turned to his desk. He scribbled something down on the paper and returned to Sam.

"Let's get you home before your father starts to worry and shoots the neighbors."

Sam cracked a smile.

"Are you planning something, sir?"

"Nothing complex, I'm not a clever enough man to pull anything like that off. However, I think I know how to convince him. I'll take you home and you should tell the truth. If you don't, well… I don't quite know what to say."

"I told E.C. that I would call him to take me home." She said.

"Ah—even better. I'll take you back to the library and you go home. Tell your father your ran into me in the library and give him this." He handed her the note he had scribbled down. "If he doesn't read it, well, that's that. I guess I'll have to give up." He added with a note of sorrow.

She shook her head. "Daddy'll come. I'll make him."

"Thank you, Sam."

"Oh—and he did say something about you after you left, I just remembered."

"And that would be…?"

"He said he could have sworn up and down he'd seen you before."

"Is that so?" Arthur said, expression hardening. "I've never seen him before this day. Interesting notion. Now, let's get you home." He began to usher her out the door. She snagged one last candy and tucked it in the front pocket of her dress, thanking him over and over.