Chapter 2 - The Sidewalk in the Rain
The autumn wind off Lake Michigan hit Blake like a wall of ice as he pushed through the heavy glass exit doors onto the sidewalk. Rain was falling in relentless, slanted sheets, soaking through his dress shirt instantly. Lily buried her face into the crook of his neck, her small hands clutching his collar for dear life.
"Which way did she go?" Blake asked, scanning the dark avenue.
"Toward the bridge," Lily whimpered, pointing a small, wet finger down Michigan Avenue. "She was going to the shelter under the road to look for Uncle Joe. He had a blanket."
Blake walked briskly down the slick concrete, his eyes searching every recessed doorway, every darkened storefront. For fifteen years, he had driven down this avenue in black luxury sedans, shielded behind tinted glass, viewing the city as a grand chessboard of architectural opportunities. He had seen statistics on displacement, line items for clearance costs, and legal indemnities. He had never looked at the sidewalks.
Under the lower level of the Wacker Drive bridge, where the city smelled of damp exhaust, river water, and rust, a small crowd of unhoused people was huddled beneath the concrete overhang.
"Mommy!" Lily suddenly cried out, her small voice cutting through the sound of rushing rain.
Beside a rusted support beam, a woman was slumped over a damp cardboard box, holding a crying infant wrapped in a thin bath towel. Her clothes were soaked through, her face pale and drawn. A young man in a worn high-visibility jacket was trying to hold a plastic tarp over her to keep the rain off.
"Elena?" Blake called out, stepping into the dim light beneath the bridge.
The woman lifted her head slowly, her eyes wide with fear as she saw a tall man in expensive, wet business attire holding her daughter. "Lily! Oh God, Lily!"
She tried to push herself up, but her legs gave way, and she collapsed back onto the concrete. Blake rushed forward, dropping to one knee beside her, balancing Lily on his hip while extending a stabilizing arm to support Elena.
"Don't touch her!" the young man in the high-vis jacket warned, stepping between them with a rusted iron bar in his hand. "Who are you? Are you security?"
"I'm Blake Harrington," Blake said, his voice raw. "I own Pinnacle Tower. I'm calling an ambulance right now."
"No!" Elena gasped, clutching the baby closer to her wet sweater. "No ambulances. We can't pay for an ambulance! They'll take my children!"
"I will pay for it," Blake said, pulling his phone out with trembling fingers. "I'll pay for everything. Please, let me help you."
Elena looked up into Blake’s eyes. She didn't see a corporate executive or a developer. She saw a man whose face was pale with genuine horror, whose tears were mixing with the rain streaming down his cheeks.
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"You're him," she whispered, her voice cracking. "You're Harrington. You knocked down the Riverside apartments."
"I did," Blake choked out, the word tasting like ashes in his mouth. "And I am so sorry."
