Echoes of Mercy: A Novel Read Free Page A

for a … test. When that’s finished, I’ll tell you who’ll be the newest toter at Dinsmore’s World-Famous Chocolates Factory.”
    Caroline followed Mrs. Brewer and the agent to the L-shaped landing for the factory’s loft. A rich, sugary aroma rose from the lower floors, reminding Caroline she hadn’t eaten any breakfast. Her stomach rolled with desire as Hightower led them to a table at the far end of the landing. Early-morning sun slanted through a square window, highlighting the top of two stacks of dented, tarnished trays filled with brown mounds—walnut-sized chocolates, each adorned with a swirl and a dusting of finely chopped nuts. They looked wonderful and smelled even better. Her knees quaked as hunger struck hard.
    “Only the top tray has candy,” the agent explained, gesturing to the stacks. “The bottom two have rocks. This way, if you drop them, there won’t be as much waste, but the weight is comparable to trays filled with chocolates.”
    Mrs. Brewer angled one eyebrow. “How much weight did you say was on there?”
    “Forty to forty-five pounds.”
    The woman grimaced.
    He scowled. “Is that a problem, Mrs. Brewer? Because this is what a toter does. She totes trays from the candy-making center to the packaging center.”
    Mrs. Brewer shook her head.
    “All right, then. I’ll give each of you a stack, and at the count of three, I want you to head to the other end of the landing, turn, come back, and put the trays on the table again. Then pick them up and repeat the process two more times. Do you understand?”
    Mrs. Brewer smoothed her palms down the front of her skirt. “Yep.” Her voice held little confidence.
    The aroma of the chocolate was making her dizzy, but Caroline nodded. “I understand.”
    The man handed Carrie the first stack. She curled her fingers around the lip of the bottom tray and held tight. A tiny, involuntary grunt left her lips, but she managed to balance the trays against her rib cage. She watched as Mrs. Brewer took her stack of trays from Hightower. Perspiration broke out across the woman’s upper lip, and her face paled. Caroline started to ask if she was all right, but the agent whipped out a timepiece from his pocket, held it aloft, and announced, “Go!”

Oliver
    Oliver Dinsmore topped the stairs and closed the heavy door behind him, muffling the noise of the machinery below. His ears continued to buzz as he stepped into the center of the long upstairs landing. Two women—one older with rivulets of sweat pouring down her red face, and one with her lips set in a grim, determined line—trudged toward him. He shifted the newsboy-style cap higher on his forehead to get a better look. Each woman carried a stack of three trays bearing chocolates. Dinsmore’s World-Famous Chocolate-Coated Vanilla Creams from the looks of them. He nearly snorted in self-derision. Had he really recalled the entire title of the confection? Father would be so pleased.
    He pressed his back to the wall as the women passed him, giving them as much room as possible. At the end of the landing, as if choreographed, they made the turn in unison. But then the older one jolted as if stung on the rump by a hornet, and she stumbled. One chocolate rolled to the edge of the top tray. The woman gasped and tipped the trays the opposite direction. Oliver started to call out a warning, but before the words could escape, a good half-dozen candies and twice as many rocks—
rocks?
—spilled over the edge and clattered against the wide-planked floor.
    The second woman had managed the corner without mishap and continued on, but at the racket she stopped and looked back. Sympathetic dismay replaced the determination he’d seen earlier on her face. Oliver found it a strange reaction. Shouldn’t she gloat? She’d just won some sort of ridiculous competition.
    Gordon Hightower, the factory’s manager and self-assigned hiring agent,stormed toward the older woman, who stared in utter despair at the