Chapter 5: Echoes in the East Wing

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"She really left?"

The black crow paused on the high terrace, leisurely preening its feathers.

Somewhere beneath the eaves, a drip of melting snow echoed through the silent halls. Under the eaves stood Daniel, dressed in a dark suit.

"Yes, sir, Mrs. Foster has left," Mr. Peterson understood his boss's thoughts, "I even asked an extra question. Mrs. Foster said she's going to Savannah."

Daniel's hands tightened on the balcony rail, jaw flexing. "...Did she show any regret? Did she say anything else?"

Mr. Peterson felt bitter inside.

He shook his head, voice gentle. "No, Mrs. Foster just said goodbye to me."

"She didn't mention rank, nor any words of resentment?"

"Ellie Foster said nothing."

Rachel was right—this was just Ellie Foster's tactic of retreating in order to advance.

Daniel's mind ticked through possibilities, eyes narrowed. Surely within a few days, she would swallow her pride and return, happily accepting the honorary position, from then on behaving herself and causing no more trouble.

Daniel had seen too many such people, shamelessly angling for rewards by relying on past favors.

He thought back to the old-timers, their laughter always a little too loud after payday. When the former President fell into trouble, he was once given a meal by someone. After returning to office, the President rewarded that person with ten thousand dollars, but the person was ungrateful, feeling it was too little.

He went around telling everyone how the President, when down and out, slept in his car and ate canned beans, and now was ungrateful and stingy to his benefactor.

The former President was furious and had him blacklisted from all government contracts.

Only then did the gossip stop.

But Rachel was different. The Campbell family and she both kept the promise made with his mother. Rachel, a respected woman, had so many senators and governors to choose from, but waited for him until he was forty—waiting so long she became an old maid—yet never married another.

Rachel said, the staff below are all like this: either currying favor with the powerful, or betting on the fallen. If they guess right, they enjoy a lifetime of wealth. For someone like Ellie Foster, you can test her to see if she's truly loyal.

If truly loyal, she won't care about wealth or position.

If calculating, she will regret it and behave herself from then on.

But she asked for nothing, made up a lie, and left.

Five days passed, still no news.

Daniel became restless.

The empty White House echoed in the winter night. She must have taken a lot of cash and jewelry.

After all, after so many years in the White House, she was kind and honest, many dignitaries valued her, even the lower staff flattered her, calling her Miss Ellie. Daniel had seen those powerful ushers and housekeepers, all astonishingly rich. With all the gifts and tips, she must have saved a lot.

"You saw her leave, did she take anything?"

"The First Lady said, no staff may take White House gifts. Ellie had served twenty years, only given the standard severance of a thousand dollars. She took only that."

What can a thousand dollars buy?

Daniel stared out the window at the falling snow, lips pressed together. After deducting the bus fare to Savannah and settling expenses, how would she eat?

Did she really believe her own lie, thinking a good man was waiting for her at home?

"She took nothing? Didn't you all flatter her? I don't believe she didn't save anything for herself."

"We did, but Mrs. Foster never took our things, saying staff are all just trying to get by." Thinking of Mrs. Foster's kindness, Mr. Peterson wiped his eyes. "When she left, she paid back what she owed, so the thousand was just an overestimate. Maybe after paying debts, not that much was left."

Daniel was speechless.

He was speechless. He’d always believed loyalty was a transaction. Now, he wondered what it meant to be truly loyal—and whether he’d ever deserved it.

A knot formed in his chest—a mix of guilt and confusion. He had imagined many possibilities.

He thought Ellie Foster was calculating, that she spent twenty years with him, betting on future wealth.

He never thought—what if she had been sincere from the start?

If she had truly given him her heart, and he broke it so badly, how could he make amends?

"...Should I have someone check?"

He spoke barely above a whisper, haunted by the echo in the empty room. Maybe, maybe she was doing very well after leaving the White House?

"What do staff do to support themselves after leaving?"

"To be honest, people like me buy property for retirement."

Daniel knew Ellie Foster had none.

He pictured her suitcase, the worn handle, the patched lining. "If not?"

"Oh, then it's hard. I've seen dignified housekeepers go out to wash clothes and cook for people, even getting yelled at and mistreated."

...Yelled at and mistreated.

Daniel felt uneasy.

Just then, an aide sent by Rachel came to ask where the President would dine tonight.

"Not eating. Going to the East Wing."

The East Wing was almost deserted.

The floors creaked, and the old grandfather clock still ticked in the background. When the late President was alive, it was already quiet; no one wanted to live there, all thought it unlucky.

After Daniel took office, he forbade anyone from touching anything there.

Behind the main residence was a small room for staff. Miss Ellie had lived there for a while.

The space smelled faintly of lavender sachets and old cedar. In the room hung a paper kite with a broken wing, clearly not White House-made, crude in workmanship.

Daniel remembered, he envied his older brothers' kites, so Miss Ellie spent money to have someone bring one in from outside.

Unfortunately, it was cheap, and he was young, and accidentally got it stuck in a tree, breaking its wing.

Miss Ellie coaxed him, saying they'd go again tomorrow, tomorrow.

It was just to comfort him, for Miss Ellie had no money, only endless laundry, and little time to spend with him.

And that lantern, which Miss Ellie carried, running through the rainy night, to find Daniel crying by the White House fence.

He had been missing his mother, crying bitterly.

But he hadn't noticed Miss Ellie, rushing so fast, hurt her leg, and walked with a limp.

When they returned, Miss Ellie's skirt was torn, her knee bloody.

Her leg had always been bad, and after that fall, it hurt even more in the cold, even walking was painful.

Daniel sat by the bed for a while, and saw a small notebook left by the bed.

It was Miss Ellie's account book.

A staff notebook, the paper was poor, the ink was poor.

After so many years, damp and faded, most of the words were unreadable.

Daniel vaguely saw income, tips, and expenses.

Those bits of cash, always added and subtracted, fell under the two little words "Dan" and "illness," and came to nothing.

Daniel was silent for a long, long time.

He suddenly remembered twenty years ago, when he watched over his mother's sickbed.

His mother was very ill, and when her heart died, she didn't even want to live.

No matter how he begged at her bedside, she still spat out all her medicine.

He had always been afraid she'd leave him, like his mother did.

No matter how he pleaded, his mother still left.

It seemed he could never keep anyone by his side.

Just like Miss Ellie, who had accompanied him for twenty years.

Turns out a heart can be strong enough to endure twenty years of wind and snow with him—

And fragile enough that a gust of suspicion can easily break it.

Seeing Daniel in silent grief,

Mr. Peterson, ever the clever one, slapped his forehead and quickly said:

"Oh, I should go find out. Mrs. Foster took my umbrella and hasn't returned it yet.

That was a genuine import from Oregon, made of seventy-two pieces of bamboo. There aren't even ten such fine umbrellas in the whole White House, it must not be lost."