Chapter Twenty #3
The telephone was at the back of the restaurant, with a pretty wooden screen around it for privacy. Vivian picked up the receiver nervously. Leo was fine, she told herself. She was just making sure, was all. “Circle two-four-four-one, please.”
Her knees nearly buckled with relief when Leo answered, his voice fuzzy with fatigue. “Hello?”
“Leo. Golly, I’m glad to hear your voice.”
“Hey, Viv.” She could hear the shaky inhale of a yawn on the other end of the line, but his sleepy voice sounded like he was smiling when he spoke again. “You calling to check on me, sweetheart?”
“Of course I am,” Vivian said. “You made it out of the drunk tank okay?”
“Clean getaway,” Leo said, chuckling. “I’ll tell you all about it if you tell me about the rest of your night.”
Vivian shivered. She didn’t want to have that conversation in the middle of the Chins’ restaurant. “Tell you what, how about you come by the Nightingale tonight? I’ll fill you in then.”
“Just tell me now, is Florence okay? The two of you gonna be safe?”
Warmth bloomed in Vivian’s chest at the genuine concern in his voice. “Yeah,” she said quietly. “We’re okay. Will I see you tonight?”
“Count on it.”
Vivian’s hands were shaking with relief by the time she finally hung up the phone. There wasn’t a good spot to wait in the restaurant, but she found an empty, round little table that was out of the way and settled in to watch the other diners until Florence made it down.
She couldn’t stop herself from thinking of Honor just then—Honor, who seemed to find it so easy to write her off, to go on with her life.
It was hard not to compare that to Danny, who had known Florence all of a handful of days before he was angling for any wholesome way he could to put his arms around her.
And Florence …
She never would have expected it, but Florence didn’t seem to object. And Vivian didn’t like how unhappy that made her. Maybe Bea was right. Maybe she was jealous. Maybe she was just looking for reasons …
No. That necklace had been exactly like the one Mr. Guzman had described. There was something fishy going on with Abraham. She was sure of it.
A man moving at a slow, stately pace cut across her vision, startling her out of her thoughts. He had just left one of the tables of elderly men. As he reached the door, he paused, turning back to say something to his friends.
Vivian caught her breath, half rising in her chair. She recognized that man. The last time she had seen him, she had held his head on her lap, and he had said her mother’s name.
She was halfway across the restaurant from him, and the door was just swinging shut behind him, the bell jangling, when Vivian darted out of her seat, earning startled looks from the other diners.
She hurried after him, but weaving between the tables and around one of Danny’s cousins slowed her down.
When she finally made it out the door, she glanced anxiously up and down the street, only to see the man’s hat disappearing into the crowd.
She tried to run after him, but by the end of the block, it was clear that he was gone.
Vivian clutched at a knot in her side, panting as she tried to catch her breath and ignoring the curious faces that turned her way. She could have kicked herself for being too slow.
But he had been sitting with friends. And if she hurried back, they would still be there.
The bell jangled again as she slipped back into the restaurant, and this time the faces that turned toward her were more than just surprised or curious. More than one looked downright suspicious. Vivian swallowed, giving the room a quick smile as Mrs. Chin stalked toward her.
“You’re disturbing our customers, Vivian Kelly,” she said quietly, but her frown was concerned, rather than accusatory. “Is there trouble?”
“No,” Vivian said quickly. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to … I just saw someone, is all, but I wasn’t able to catch up to him in time.”
“Someone you know?” Mrs. Chin looked around, clearly surprised. “Here?”
“Sort of.” Vivian hesitated, glancing at the table of white- and gray-haired men who had gone back to their emphatic conversation.
“Mrs. Chin, do you know any of the men at that table? They had a friend who just left, and I … I recognized him. Danny and I helped him out a few months ago, he got sick or something when we were passing by, and I think…”
“Yes?” Mrs. Chin prompted when Vivian fell silent.
“I think he might have known my mother,” Vivian explained in a nervous rush. “Do you think you could ask them? About where to find him, I mean?”
“What if he doesn’t want to talk to you?” Mrs. Chin asked, stern but not cruel. “You do not look like your mother was Chinese.”
“No, she was Irish.” Vivian swallowed. “If he doesn’t want to talk to me, I’d be no worse off than I am now.”
Mrs. Chin regarded her for a long moment, then nodded briskly. “I’ll ask around. But now you need to go.” She turned away as she spoke, her voice going a little cold. “You and that sister of yours need to get to work. And then I will need help with those dishes tonight.”
“Mrs. Chin…” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Vivian realized she shouldn’t say anything. But Danny’s mother had already turned back to her, an impatient, expectant look on her face, one foot just barely tapping.
“Yes?”
Vivian swallowed. “Have you changed your mind? Are you upset that we’re here?”
Mrs. Chin sighed. “I do not like the way my son looks at her,” she said at last. Seeing the defensive look that sprang to Vivian’s face, she held up her hand.
“I’m sure she’s a very nice girl. But it is hard enough on our young men being here, and my son has made it harder for himself with his…
” She considered her words. “His choice of work. I do not want his life to be harder still because he gives up his heart to someone who cannot hold his hand on the street without putting them both at risk. To someone who doesn’t know how to be part of his world. ”
“Which world?” Vivian couldn’t help asking. “This one? Or the one at the Nightingale?”
“Does it matter?” Mrs. Chin’s brows rose. “Your sister isn’t going to fit in either place, is she?” Her gaze went past Vivian’s shoulder. “Time for you two to get to work.”
She bustled back toward the kitchen just as Florence came downstairs and joined Vivian.
“Is everything okay?” Florence asked. “What were you and Mrs. Chin talking about?”
Vivian swallowed. “Nothing important. Come on. We’re taking a cab to the shop today.”
“Are you going to tell me why you changed your mind about us staying away from work for a few days?” Florence asked as they went out into the street.
“Well…” Vivian busied herself catching the eye of a cabbie so she didn’t have to look at Florence. “That depends. How good of an actor do you think you can be, Flo?”
Things at the shop weren’t quite as bad as Vivian had been dreading, but they definitely weren’t good.
“An officer strolling by on his nightly rounds saw the damage and was able to summon assistance,” Miss Ethel explained to the gathered seamstresses and shop girls, all standing quiet, obedient, and afraid in the back of the shop while she surveyed them like the teacher of an unruly class.
Two sewing machines had been stolen, along with most of the pretty, expensive dresses that were waiting for their owners.
Bolts of silk and velvet were gone, and the clock that Vivian had hidden behind so recently was knocked over, its face smashed.
Someone had swept up the glass, but the shop was still a mess.
“Given the broken door, I think it is safe to say that some hooligan was responsible,” Miss Ethel continued. “So I know I need not suspect any of you—” She paused, looking at each of them in turn as if to see whether anyone might look guilty.
Vivian kept her expression wide-eyed and guileless, praying that Florence was able to do the same.
Under any other circumstances, she would have kept her sister in the dark about what she had done.
But if Flo had arrived at work and heard that the dress had been stolen, she wouldn’t have been able to keep her eyes away from Vivian.
And they couldn’t risk her giving the game away.
She had been furious, until Vivian had finally hissed, “What else was I supposed to do? I didn’t do it just for fun, Flo, I did it to keep you alive. Are you saying I shouldn’t have?”
There was no good answer to that, and both of them knew it. Florence had spent the cab ride to work practicing her surprised face while Vivian silently prepared for the worst.
“I need not suspect any of you,” Miss Ethel said again, this time with more confidence.
Vivian tried not to look relieved. “But I am … in a precarious position now. We all are. If you wish to continue being employed, we will all need to work twice as hard to make up the cost of what was stolen.” Miss Ethel seemed to lose her train of thought for a moment, eyeing the damage to her store. Her chin trembled for a moment.
Vivian didn’t want to feel sympathy for Miss Ethel.
The woman was cruel and demanding, and she worked her employees to the bone.
But Vivian could feel the guilt settling into her stomach anyway.
This was her fault. And when she glanced at the faces of the other girls, the worry in their eyes at the prospect of finding themselves out of work, she wanted to cry.
She didn’t, though. Vivian never cried.
“I will require everyone to work extra hours each week for the next month,” Miss Ethel continued.
“Especially you, Florence. You will come with me while we discuss what to do about Mrs. Blake’s order.
” She cast another suspicious glance over her assembled workers, and the nine girls all held their breath as they waited.
Finally she sniffed. “Well, what are you waiting for? The work will not do itself. If you please!” She clapped her hands sharply.