Band of Sisters (34 page)

“No, I didn’t. I don’t. I mean, another time, of course, but—you see, it’s about something else entirely. I need—” But Olivia could hardly remember what she’d wanted and couldn’t remember feeling so flustered.
This is not at all how I imagined this!
She straightened her coat and brushed her gloved hands down the front to regain her composure, an action he apparently found charming from the twinkle in his eyes. “No, this is business. Well, not exactly business . . .” She couldn’t stop the infernal blush from rising up her neck to warm her cheeks or the break in the rhythm of her heart.
If only you weren’t so handsome!

“Ah.” Curtis stopped his teasing as quickly as he’d appeared. “This is about your book, isn’t it?” He led her from the ice and toward the nearest bench. “It’s high time we talked about your writing. I’ve been meaning to ask.”

“No.” She pulled away, annoyed.
As though I’d pull you from your work to talk about my scribbling! As if I’m a schoolgirl begging to show you my copybook!

“You must take my arm, Miss Wakefield,” Curtis admonished. “Those shoes were never made to traverse ice patches.”

Is that a reprimand?
She felt herself blush again at the chide.
Why didn’t I wear a sensible pair of boots on such a day? You know why,
she told herself.
Because they simply weren’t attractive enough.

Her concern for the appearance of her feet made the purpose of her visit seem pure irony. But there was nothing to be done but to get on with it. Humiliated or not, she was completely at a loss to know how to handle the situation he’d helped her create by locating the O’Reilly sisters.

“If it’s not your writing—and I’m sorry if it’s not—then forgive my presumption and allow me to be of whatever service I may.” He brushed the bench and saw her safely seated before taking a place beside her.

Olivia’s bristles melted. She’d no desire to be contrary—indeed, had no sympathy with pouting females. “I must talk with you—with someone—about the situation with the O’Reilly sisters.”

“Things have not gone well?” Curtis seemed confused.

Olivia lifted her hands. “I issued the invitation to Maureen and Katie Rose in all sincerity, hoping they would join me at Morningside, hoping they would trust me to embrace them as the family Father intended and help them find solid footing in New York,” she began. “But I never imagined Katie Rose would come alone—or with wild tales of Maureen losing her job for stealing and the most horrendous accusations against her character and behavior, both here and in Ireland.”

“That seems most unlikely. Joshua Keeton speaks highly of Maureen.”

“Yes, I’ve noticed that too.” Olivia thumbed the clasp of her purse. “In fact, he seems rather infatuated with her.”

“Is he?” Curtis looked mildly interested in the idea but more interested in her. “I hadn’t noticed.”

Olivia sighed impatiently.
How can someone so clever be so obtuse?

“Even so—” Curtis pulled on the business face Olivia had seen before—“I doubt Joshua would be taken in; he’s a good judge of character, as near as I can tell.”

“Yes, I’m sure you’re right. But why would Katie Rose say such things, and about her own sister?” Olivia implored. “And why would she abandon her to come to me?”

“Ah, I can answer your second question.” Curtis smiled again, pulling his gloves from his hands and blowing on his fingers to warm them.

“Will you, please?”

“Haven’t you offered her the world—your world? Can you imagine what that looks like to a young girl, practically a child, who’s never had enough to eat or nice clothes to wear? Who’s probably never ridden in a motorcar or eaten ice cream?”

Olivia drew back, confused and indignant that he’d think Katie Rose so shallow. Even so, her naiveté dawned slowly. “I’m ashamed to say I never thought of it like that. Maureen’s so proud. When I visited her at the store, she’d take nothing from me—wanted nothing to do with me.”

“But you said they joined your Ladies’ Circle for tea. She didn’t turn that down.”

“Well—” Olivia nearly laughed—“she did, but Katie Rose came anyway . . . and then Maureen burst through the door as though she was sure we’d sold her sister to the gypsies!”

Olivia could not mistake the sudden flame in Curtis’s cheek.

“Sold her? What do you mean?”

“Just that she came in forty or so minutes after we’d assembled, absolutely terrified for her sister’s safety.” Olivia lifted her shoulders. “In any other situation I should have been insulted, but I put it down to her fear of the unknown—her lack of experience in society, at least New York society.”

“This was at Morningside?”

“No, at Dorothy and Drake’s home.”

Curtis leaned forward and took her hands. “What did she say—when she first came through the door? What were her first words?”

Olivia did not understand Curtis’s sudden, intense interest. “She demanded to know if her sister was there.”

“That’s all?”

“Yes, that was her concern. Evidently, when she realized where Katie Rose had gone, Maureen raced across town as though she were being chased.”

“And what did you do?”

“I tried to calm her, of course.” Olivia replayed the scene in her mind, trying not to notice that he suddenly seemed far removed, no matter that he still held her hands. “Oh,” she remembered, “and she asked if Drake was there.”

“Was he?”

“No, of course not. It was a ladies’ tea.”

“But it was his house. She might have expected he’d be at home. And how did she react when you told her Drake wasn’t there?”

“She seemed visibly relieved, almost to the point of exhaustion.”

Curtis unceremoniously dropped her hands, sat back, and made a pyramid of his fingers. “She fears him.”

Olivia shrugged slightly, trying not to let on that she felt . . .
That I feel what? What are his moods to me?
“It’s a misunderstanding, I’m sure. But Katie Rose said Maureen claimed Drake is a dangerous man. All I can think is that she referred to her first encounter with him at Thanksgiving. He was monstrous to her.”

Curtis looked at her steadily, enough to make Olivia tug the cuffs of her coat sleeves and shift in her seat. “Is Drake normally monstrous to attractive women?”

He’s odious to every woman—especially to my beautiful sister, who he’s infected with his nasty disease.
But she would not betray Dorothy’s confidence. She returned Curtis’s probing gaze. “That’s an odd question coming from his business associate.”

“Not all businessmen conduct their business in the same way.”

Olivia straightened. “No, they don’t.”
Did he just chastise me again?

“I’m sorry,” Curtis apologized. “That was rude and uncalled for. Drake is your sister’s husband.”

“Yes, he is,” Olivia answered slowly, remembering Katie Rose’s tirade of Maureen’s accusations and fears.
But Katie Rose was in tears—hysterics. It was all too much, too melodramatic, too thirteen. The sisters probably had another falling-out, as they did in Dorothy’s parlor. But what if it wasn’t that?
She looked at Curtis as if she’d not seen him before.
And what is your position, your business with Drake, Mr. Curtis Morrow? What is it really? Why did you help me find Maureen and Katie Rose? Why are you interested in Drake’s relationship to Maureen?

For the first time, Olivia wondered if she should entirely trust Curtis Morrow.

When Joshua Keeton answered the summons to Curtis Morrow’s office, he detected a lingering hint of lily-scented perfume, reminding him of the fragrance Olivia Wakefield had worn to church.

Joshua was not surprised to learn that Katie Rose had run to Olivia for sanctuary and security. He didn’t blame the girl. He was only mildly surprised she’d held out as long as she did.

But what of Maureen? It was bad enough the two of them livin’ in the tenement together. Maureen in that rat hole alone is unthinkable.

“You’re sure Maureen’s not one to steal or to entertain men—that there’s no justification for the girl’s accusations?” Curtis’s eyes probed Joshua’s, but Joshua stood without flinching.

“She’d do neither.”
Not willingly. God, please, no—protect her! Hasn’t she been through enough?

“Then there’s something amiss—some missing piece. Katie Rose said Maureen is convinced Drake’s a dangerous man. Put that together with her unreasonable fear of either of them living with Olivia—when help from the Wakefields is what she came for in the first place—and I have to think Maureen knows something about Drake. Something she’s afraid to tell. But how could she be connected to him in any way? She was only days off the boat when she met him—any of them—and she came straight from Mrs. Melkford’s.”

“It cannot be from the church or either sister’s house,” Joshua considered. “Where else could she have seen him?”

“If it’s not in her apartment—”

“It’s not,” Joshua interjected almost fiercely.
I’ve kept watch since the moment I found her again.

“Then it must be work or some other public place—which leaves most of Manhattan.” Curtis grimaced.

“But none that Maureen frequents without Katie Rose . . . except her job.”

“Darcy’s,” Curtis murmured. “But we’ve found no direct link there.” He stood, turned toward the window, opened the blinds.

“If Maureen’s lost her position—if she’s been accused of stealin’, as you say, it may be because she wouldn’t do as she was told.”

“Is she normally obstinate?”

“Maureen?” Joshua smiled. “Obstinate as the day is long. But she’d do nothin’ to knowingly jeopardize her position. Steady employment and her wages are what keep her in America. No—” he shook his head—“she’d not risk that—not without the best of reasons.”

“Nor would she be able to quit—with no place to go—even if things weren’t right there. I’d say divide your time between the sisters as best you can, with a focus on following them to and from work each day. See if Maureen stops anywhere else—who she knows or speaks to, what she does. And if you think she’ll trust you, have a word with her.”

If she’ll trust me—that’s the question.

Katie Rose floated on air her first week with Olivia. Never had a lady’s maid run her bath, let alone from a faucet in a room made for such a purpose.
A real claw-foot tub and not a tin tub in the kitchen—who could have imagined?

“Miss Olivia indulges me as if I’m a princess!” Katie Rose gloated to Emma as they left work. “She gives me money for the trolley every day and bought me this fine pair of walkin’ shoes—brand-new—and this woolen coat. Do you like it?” She did a little twirl in the midst of the sidewalk.

“Why are you working at all if the grand lady’s looking after everything?” Emma asked.

Katie Rose slowed, sensing that her friend was miffed.
Well, I’d be too if she waltzed in with all this finery and no woes.
“Don’t be cross with me, Emma. I’m sorry to boast. I know it’s not right. It’s just I’ve never had such things or anyone to look after me like this.”

“It’s like falling into a fairy tale, I guess,” Emma sighed. “I’d like to fall into one of those myself. Someday I’ll work in one of the stores uptown, like your sister, and wear pretty clothes and shoes that don’t look like my brother’s boots,” she dreamed aloud. “But I’ve no rich American friends to take me in—not me and not my six brothers and sisters!”

Katie Rose linked arms with her friend. “Oh, but you have me! And look here.” She dug deep into the pocket of her new burgundy coat. “I’ve not used the trolley once this week. I’ve saved every nickel Miss Olivia gave me. So what do you say that we stop at the nickelodeon on our way home—my treat! We’ve enough for two shows and supper between us.”

“On a Friday night?” Emma gasped.

Katie Rose nodded eagerly. “We won’t stay terribly late. I can’t go tomorrow afternoon. The Ladies’ Circle meets and I’m a member now. I must attend.” She whispered, “I’ve taken the pledge,” hoping Emma would ask her just what she meant.

“But tonight’s the beginning of Shabbat. Papa doesn’t mind so much that I go Saturday afternoons since I have to work on Saturdays anyway. But Friday night—he’d skin me alive, for starts.” Emma’s mournful gaze trailed from the coins in Katie Rose’s palm to her face.