When he returned, he said, “She’s got pneumonia.”
“Is she going to live?”
The doctor shrugged.
Milo and Ellen Scott stumbled into the police station at Ávila.
The desk sergeant looked up at the two bedraggled tourists. “Buenos días. Can I help you?”
“There’s been a terrible accident,” Milo said. “Our plane crashed up in the mountains and…”
One hour later a rescue party was on its way to the mountainside. When they arrived, there was nothing to see but the smoldering, charred remains of an aircraft and its passengers.
The investigation of the airplane accident conducted by the Spanish authorities was cursory.
“The pilot should not have attempted to fly into such a bad storm. We must attribute the accident to pilot error.”
There was no reason for anyone in Ávila to associate the airplane crash with a small child left on the doorstep of a farmhouse.
It was over.
It was just beginning.
Milo and Ellen held a private memorial service for Byron, his wife, Susan, and their daughter, Patricia. When they returned to New York, they held a second memorial service, attended by the shocked friends of the Scotts.
“What a terrible tragedy. And poor little Patricia.”
“Yes,” Ellen said sadly. “The only blessing is that it happened so quickly, none of them suffered.”
The financial community was shaken by the news. It was almost unanimously agreed that with Byron Scott’s death, Scott Industries had suffered an irreparable loss.
“Don’t listen to what any of them say,” Ellen Scott told her husband. “You’re better than Byron ever was. The company is going to be bigger than ever.”
Milo took her in his arms. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”
She smiled. “You’ll never have to. From now on we’re going to have everything in the world we’ve ever dreamed of.”
She held him close and thought: Who would have believed that Ellen Dudash, from a poor Polish family in Gary, Indiana, would have one day said, “From now on, we’re going to have everything in the world we ever dreamed of”?
And meant it.
For ten days the baby remained in the hospital, fighting for her life, and when the crisis was past, Father Berrendo went to see the farmer and his wife.
“I have joyous news for you,” he said happily. “The child is going to be all right.”
The Morases exchanged an uncomfortable look.
“I’m glad for her sake,” the farmer said evasively.
Father Berrendo beamed. “She is a gift from God.”
“Certainly, Father. But my wife and I have talked it over and decided that God is too generous to us. His gift requires feeding. We can’t afford to keep it.”
“But she’s such a beautiful baby,” Father Berrendo pointed out. “And—”
“Agreed. But my wife and I are old and sick, and we can’t take on the responsibility of bringing up a baby. God will have to take back his gift.”
And so it was that with nowhere else to go the baby was sent to the orphanage in Ávila.
Milo and Ellen were seated in the office of Byron Scott’s attorney for the reading of the will. The three of them were the only ones present. Ellen was filled with a sense of almost unbearable excitement. A few words on a piece of paper were going to make her and Milo rich beyond imagining.
We’ll buy old masters and an estate in Southhampton, and a castle in France. And that’s only the beginning.
The lawyer started to speak, and Ellen turned her attention to him. Months earlier she had seen a copy of Byron’s will and knew exactly what it said:
“In the event that my wife and I should both be deceased, I bequeath all my stock in Scott Industries to my only child, Patricia, and I appoint my brother, Milo, as executor of my estate until she reaches the legal age and is able to take over…”
Well, all that is changed now, Ellen thought excitedly.
The lawyer, Lawrence Gray, said solemnly, “This has been a terrible shock to all of us. I know how much you loved your brother, Milo, and as for that darling little baby…” He shook his head. “Well, life must go on. You may not be aware that your brother had changed his will. I won’t bother you with the legalese. I will just read you the gist of it.” He thumbed through the will and came to the paragraph he was looking for. “I amend this will so that my daughter, Patricia, will receive the sum of five million dollars plus a distribution of one million dollars a year for the rest of her life. All the stock in Scott Industries held in my name will go to my brother, Milo, as a reward for the faithful and valuable services he has provided the company through the years.”