Nor did he know that she had already made a decision concerning him.
The next morning began with an ordinary sound.
The old bicycle chain clicked as Andre pedaled toward town.
The sun was bright, though the air remained cold.
Thin ribbons of mist drifted over the fields, and ranch horses moved slowly behind frosted fences.
Andre carried a small bag of oats on his back.
He had another day of work ahead of him, and he intended to arrive early.
As he approached the main road, he heard an unfamiliar engine.
A large black motorcar came around the bend, its polished body shining beneath the morning sun.
Motorcars occasionally passed through town, usually belonging to railway officials or wealthy ranch owners, but Andre had never seen one quite like this.
The vehicle slowed.
Then it stopped directly ahead of him.
Andre pulled his bicycle brakes and planted one foot on the ground.
He waited, uncertain whether he should move aside.
The motorcar’s rear door opened.
A driver in a dark uniform stepped out and held it carefully.
Then an elderly woman emerged.
She wore a fine beige coat and the same gray scarf Andre had seen the previous afternoon.
He stared.
“Ma’am?”
Evelyn smiled.
“Good morning, Andre.”
He looked from her to the motorcar.
“Are you all right?”
“Very well, thanks to you.”
Andre laughed nervously.
“I didn’t expect to see you again.”
“I rather hoped I would see you.”
She approached him, stopping beside the old bicycle.
Her eyes moved over the faded paint and worn handlebars.
“Still riding your mother’s bicycle?”
“Every day.”
“May I speak with you for a moment?”
Andre nodded, though he glanced toward the stable road.
“Of course.”
Before Evelyn could continue, Mr.
Sullivan appeared from the direction of the livery yard.
He had come to investigate the arrival of the expensive motorcar.
The moment he recognized the elderly woman, he stopped walking.
His expression changed completely.
He removed his hat.
“Mrs.
Harrow?”
Andre looked at him.
Mr.
Sullivan stepped closer, clearly astonished.
“Mrs.
Evelyn Harrow?”
The woman gave him a polite smile.
“Good morning.”
Mr.
Sullivan glanced at Andre.
“Son, do you know who this is?”
Andre shook his head.
“She told me her name was Evelyn.”
The older man’s mouth opened slightly.
Then he looked toward the black motorcar, the driver, and the woman standing beside the weathered bicycle.
“Andre,” he said quietly, “this woman owns railroads, grain companies, and more ranchland than most people can imagine.
Her fortune is worth over a billion dollars.”
Andre turned toward Evelyn.
For several seconds, he could not speak.
The woman he had found lost beside a frozen road, the woman who had accepted his sandwich and borrowed his old gloves, was one of the wealthiest people in America.
Evelyn looked at him with the same gentle expression she had worn the afternoon before.
Then she opened her handbag and removed a gold-edged card.
“I came back because of what you did for me yesterday,” she said.
“And there’s something important I’d like to ask you.”
Andre stared at the card in her hand, wondering what a woman with more money than he could comprehend could possibly want from a boy who owned little more than an old bicycle.
The story isn’t over yet.
For a long moment, Andre stood motionless beside his bicycle, looking at the elderly woman in front of him.
A billion dollars.
He had heard people speak about fortunes like that, usually when newspapers described wealthy industrialists in distant cities.
Such amounts meant nothing to him beyond the understanding that they belonged to a world entirely different from his own.
He looked down at his worn shoes, his patched trousers, and the old bicycle that had carried him through countless difficult days.
Then he looked back at Evelyn.
She was still smiling.
“Are you really that wealthy?” he asked.
Evelyn gave a small, almost embarrassed laugh.
“So the newspapers keep telling me.”
Andre glanced toward Mr.
Sullivan.
The older man nodded.
“She’s telling the truth, son.”
Andre rubbed his hands together.
“I don’t understand.”
“What don’t you understand?”
Evelyn asked.
He hesitated.
“Yesterday you were walking along a road with no one to help you.”
“That’s true.”
“And today…”
His eyes moved toward the magnificent motorcar.
“Today you have all this.”
Evelyn looked at the vehicle.
Then she turned back toward him.
“I had it yesterday too, Andre.
I simply couldn’t use any of it when I needed someone to care.”
The words settled between them.
Mr.
Sullivan lowered his gaze, understanding that the conversation belonged to the two people standing beside the bicycle.
He excused himself and returned to the stable, leaving Andre and Evelyn beneath the pale morning sunlight.
Andre was still struggling to make sense of everything.
“Why were you out there alone?”
Evelyn considered the question before answering.
“I came here to visit the place where I grew up.
I hadn’t seen it in many years, and I believed I remembered the roads better than I actually did.”
She glanced toward the distant hills.
“My driver had business at the railway office, and I decided to walk.
I thought it would be a short visit.”
“But you got lost.”
“Very thoroughly.”
Andre could not help smiling.
Evelyn smiled back.
“The old farm is gone now.
The fences have changed, the paths have disappeared, and the winter makes every field look much the same.”
She paused.
“I suppose I wasn’t as prepared as I thought.”
Andre nodded slowly.
There was something comforting about hearing a wealthy person admit to such an ordinary mistake.
He had imagined that people with fortunes never worried about directions, weather, or whether they would reach home before dark.
Yet Evelyn had been frightened and cold, just like anyone else.
She held out the gold-edged card.
“This has my office address and telephone number.”
Andre accepted it carefully.
The paper was thick, with neat dark lettering.
Evelyn Harrow.
Harrow Rail and Grain Holdings.
Below the name were addresses in several cities.
Andre stared at the card, then looked up.
“What do you want to ask me?”
Evelyn’s expression grew thoughtful.
“Yesterday, while we were walking, you told me about this town.