text: When he returned to the Palmer House that evening, Sarah Sloan was waiting. "We've found your mother," she said.
  
  "So she's alive?" Grit asked.
  
  "Yes, but she doesn't want to see you," Sarah said.
  
  "She thinks I'll blame her for abandoning me."
  
  "I think that's it, yes."
  
  "So where is she?"
  
  "She's here in Chicago, lives on North Lakeview Avenue," Sarah said.
  
  "Married?"
  
  "Yes," Sarah said. "Your mother remarried 20 years ago, and she has two other children. Her husband knows nothing about her past, and she doesn't want him to know. You understand—a child out of a wedlock and all the societal disapproval."
  
  "Did you ask her about my paternity?"
  
  "Yes, she says Mister Gridleigh is your father, but she was abundantly clear she didn't want to see you."
  
  "Well, I guess that's all I need to know, isn't it? She gave me away when I was a child and now refuses to see me. No love lost there."
  
  "Yes, it's very sad," Sarah said. "I'm' terribly sorry. Your mother is married to a city councilman who hopes to be the mayor of Chicago."
  
  "I get it," Grit said.
  
  Sarah offered to accompany him to dinner, but he said, "I think I'll order a sandwich to eat in my room tonight and catch the earliest train back in the morning. I appreciate all your help, Sarah."
  
  Grit ate his turkey and bacon sandwich and was propped up in bed with his shoes off reading Mysterious Island by Jules Verne when there was a knock at his room door. And suddenly he knew exactly who was knocking.
  
  He opened the door and looked into the face of a most beautiful middle-aged woman who had a large black scarf covering her head. He said, "Hello Mother, won't you come in?"
  
  She swept into the room and took off the scarf as she turned to face him. "Do you hate me?" she asked in a tiny, feminine voice.
  
  "No, of course not," he said. "It's good to see you again after all these years."
  
  "You don't even remember me, do you?" she asked.
  
  "Only in the vaguest portion of my memory," he said. "I do remember waking in the sanctuary of the church and wandering up and down the pews in the dark looking for you and calling, 'Mama, mama.' Little snatches here and there of memory, but I didn't recall what you looked like. If I'd met you on the street, I wouldn't have known you."
  
  "I am sorry, but at the time, I was so poor that I could not feed you or myself. My leaving you in the church was an act of desperation in the hope you'd have a better life. Later on, I found my footing and all these years, I've wondered what happened to you. Have you been happy?"
  
  "Happy is a relative term," he said. "I went to prison for three years for killing a man in a fight. It was an accident, but that was a low point in my life. I served my time, got out and have built a pretty good life. I have a beautiful wife, an adopted daughter, and we've got another child on the way. So yes, I'm happy with the life I've built for myself and my family."
  
  "I'm so very glad," she said. Slowly she removed a photograph from her pocket and said, "I brought this for you." She handed him a photograph that showed her posed in a chair with a man standing behind and a little to the left side and two children at the other side. "That's my family. I've worked hard to build a new life, and I hope you won't..."
  
  "Don't worry yourself, mother," Grit said. "I won't cause you any trouble. I'm going back to Nebraska in the morning to my own family, the only one I've ever been a part of, and it's a happy family."
  
  She nodded, "I am sorry, you know, about everything."
  
  Grit nodded. "I spoke with Gridleigh."
  
  "Yes, Sarah told me," she said. "What did he say?"
  
  "He's got a cancer deep in his bowels, he says. Could live another six months or, maybe not that long."
  
  "Are you going to inherit?"
  
  "We didn't talk about it. I hope not," Grit said. "I've built a good life out in Lincoln, and I don't want anything to interfere with that."
  
  "But the money could give you an even better life," she said.
  
  "I seriously doubt that," Grit said.
  
  "Do you have any other questions of me?" she asked.
  
  Grit shook his head, "No, I guess not, but if you ever need me, just send me a telegram in Lincoln."
  
  She drew close and placed her head on his chest. He put his arms around his mother and drew her close. "Life has done you wrong, my sweet son, but you've made it come out alright. I'm so happy for you." She pulled back, looked at his face and kissed his cheek before saying, "I have to get back to my life now." She opened the door, put on the scarf that partially hid her face, and walked away. Grit turned and closed the door.