A way to pressure Thomas through his children when the land approach had failed. Mr. Reese? Clara said. He looked up.
Her voice was very quiet. She had learned over her lifetime that there was a particular kind of quiet that commanded more attention than volume. I would like you to be very careful, she said, about what happens next. Because what you have done, and I want to be clear that I know exactly what you have done, is file a false complaint against a man through his children. And I want you to think carefully about what the people of this county will make of that when they know.
Reese opened his mouth. Tom Aldridge knows, Clara said. He loaned Thomas $60 last week and he knows why it was needed. Hattie Greer knows everything about everyone in this county. And Mrs.
Harlow, she turned to the woman who was watching her now with an expression that had lost some of its certainty. I suspect you do not enjoy being used as someone's legal instrument. I suspect you have a genuine interest in children's welfare. So I am going to invite you inside to see these children and this house, and I think you will find that there is nothing here that requires the county's intervention. A silence settled over the yard.
Jacob, behind his father, had not moved. His arms were crossed. His jaw was set. Thomas was looking at Clara with an expression she had not seen on his face before and did not entirely know how to categorize. Mrs.
Harlow looked at her for a long moment. Then she said, I would appreciate that tour. The house passed. Of course it did. Clara had spent 3 weeks making sure it would not because she'd anticipated this specific threat, but because she was Clara Bennett and a well-run house was its own kind of argument.
Mrs. Harlow went through each room with Mr. Pruitt and his notebook, and she asked questions that Clara answered plainly. And she looked at the pantry that was stocked, and the kitchen that was clean, and the children's rooms that were orderly. And when Emma brought Noah downstairs at Clara's request, and stood beside her brother with her chin up and her spine straight in the way she had learned to carry herself, Mrs.
Harlow looked at them both for a long moment. "How are you children eating?" She asked. "Well," Emma said. "Miss Bennett made biscuits this morning.
She taught me how to make them properly." Mrs. Harlow looked at Emma. Something in her professional expression shifted. "And are you happy here?"
She asked. "Tell me the truth." Emma looked at Clara, then back at Mrs. Harlow. "Yes," she said.