Thirty-Four

Florence cried when she saw Vivian standing in the doorway, though she tried to pretend she was just feeling weepy because of her pregnancy.

"You're not very convincing," Vivian laughed, holding her sister close.

"Shut up," Florence sniffed, pulling away just far enough that she could look at Vivian's face. "How?" she asked simply.

Danny had been sitting with Florence when Vivian arrived. But after pressing a quick kiss to his wife's head and giving Vivian a hug, he made himself scarce. Vivian was glad, both that she could have her sister to herself and that she didn't have to explain for him. He knew Honor better than almost anyone—except, perhaps, Vivian realized, for her. But Honor hadn't told him about her mother, and Vivian didn't know whether she should or not.

"They caught the woman who did it," she said simply, steering her sister back toward her chair. "She was working as a maid in his house, but they had a…" She hesitated. "A romantic history together. They had a child who didn't survive. She blamed him."

It was all true, and it left so much out.

"My God, could they have cut things any closer?" Florence gasped, half laughing and half crying. "I'm sorry, I'm dragging you around, but I don't want to let go of your hand. I don't want you to disappear on me."

"I'm not going anywhere," Vivian murmured, leaning her head against her sister's, temple to temple. They sat like that until there was a knock at the door and Danny's cousin Lucky poked his head in.

"Auntie sent me with a treat," he said. "Hey, Viv. Good to see you're not in prison."

She tried to laugh at that, though her stomach twisted into knots. "Thanks." Part of her still half believed that she would wake up tomorrow and discover she was there after all. "Pinch me," she whispered to Florence while Lucky handed over a plate of buns fresh from the kitchen.

Florence waved to Lucky as the door closed behind him. "Why?"

"I want to make sure this is real." Vivian stared around the tiny, pretty room, curtains fluttering at the window, a much-patched quilt spread across the bed. Florence in her rocking chair, the only furniture she had brought with her into her new life. The rain still fell outside, an irregular beat like the intro to a jazz number. "It feels like a dream."

She yelped as Florence pinched her arm. "It's real," Florence whispered, running her hand gently over the sore spot she had just made. "Danny kept telling me it would be all right, and I didn't believe him."

"He was saying that just to make you feel better, you know," Vivian pointed out.

Florence laughed and took one of the buns from the plate. "I know. But he was still right. And now I have everything I need again."

Vivian dragged a breath past the lump in her throat. Florence's certainty, that she was loved and all would be well, rubbed at the tender places in Vivian's heart, the places that wished she had that certainty herself. "Flo, you love Danny, right?"

"Of course I do," Florence said, frowning at her.

"Well," Vivian said slowly, not sure she wanted to say it but pushing herself through the question anyway. "What if you love someone, but the person you love does something unforgivable?"

Florence looked surprised by the question, but there was a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "There's no ‘if' about it. They will do something unforgivable. It's what people do."

"What happens then? Just hope that one day, they'll make it up to you?"

"No. They can't." Florence shook her head. "There's no making it right. That's what it means for it to be unforgivable."

"But—"

"Vivi." Florence took her hand. "Sometimes forgiveness is a gift you choose to give, even though a person could never possibly earn it, because you love them. Because they are forgivable, even if whatever they did isn't."

"That sounds…" Vivian shook her head. "Really damn hard."

"It is." Florence smiled. "It's one of the hardest things in the world. But if you can't do it, you're going to go through life alone. Because everyone you meet, everyone you love, at some point will do something unforgivable. We're human. We can't avoid it."

"And what if you don't know whether you love them enough to do it?"

"Well…" Florence winced, one hand going to the side of her swollen belly. Without being asked, Vivian fetched a stool from the corner so Florence could prop her feet up. "That's the first thing you've got to figure out, then. Some people deserve that kind of love from you. Others don't. Sometimes hard things bring you together, and sometimes they push you apart. And sometimes it's no one's fault which it ends up being. It's just the way life goes." Still rubbing her belly with one hand, she stretched sideways to retrieve the mending basket from the floor. "Any chance of you telling me who we're talking about?"

Vivian was silent, biting her lower lip as she looked away from her sister's probing gaze. Her eyes fell on the basket, and before she knew it, she was laughing. "Oh hell," she gasped. "I just remembered. I didn't tell Miss Ethel I wouldn't be at work today."

She felt tears pricking against the back of her eyelids once more as she hiccupped her way through her giggles. Florence, who had been threading her needle, set her things down. She levered herself out of the chair once more and went to sit on the bed. "Hand," she ordered, holding out her own.

Vivian, unsure what was about to happen, took it, only hesitating a little. Florence frowned for a moment, as though she were listening to something no one else could hear.

"There," she murmured, and placed the palm of Vivian's hand against her belly.

The movement caught Vivian off guard, and she nearly snatched her hand back from the series of fluttering kicks. "Flo," she said, staring at her sister. "That's the baby."

It felt like a stupid thing to say, but her sister only smiled in response. "Sure is."

"Holy moly," Vivian muttered, staring wide-eyed at her hand as the kicks disappeared for a moment, then resumed in a sudden flurry. "Does it hurt?"

Florence laughed. "I wouldn't say it's comfortable," she admitted. "But I don't mind. Taking care of someone who needs you isn't always a comfortable thing."

The kicks disappeared. "That felt a little pointed," Vivian said, giving her sister a wry look.

Florence's smile didn't waver. "It was." She patted the bed next to her. "Come here."

Vivian hesitated only a moment before sliding in next to her sister. Their legs stretched toward the footboard, feet tangled up with each other, and Florence eased her arm under Vivian's shoulders, guiding her sister's head to her shoulder.

They didn't say anything. At last, Vivian rolled over, curling into a ball as she pressed her face against her sister's side, and cried.

Florence didn't let go.

She had to go eventually. Florence needed to rest, and Vivian wanted to try to keep her job, since she'd still need to pay rent and all the rest of it. But she took her time about leaving, packing away the mending and making sure Florence was settled.

"Flo…" Vivian paused in the doorway. Her curiosity got the best of her, as it always did. "It wasn't Danny who did something unforgivable, was it?" She hesitated, but she was pretty sure she already knew the answer. "It was me."

Florence, already lying in bed, smiled without opening her eyes. "Time for you to get to work, Vivi. I'll see you tomorrow." More softly, she added, "I'm so, so glad I get to say that."

Vivian swallowed down the lump in her throat. "Me too," she whispered. "God, me too."

It took Miss Ethel a full thirty minutes to get through her lecture on how girls who wanted to keep their jobs should learn to use a telephone, even when they had emergencies in their family. At last, though, she sighed and grudgingly admitted that, since she did have customers waiting on deliveries, Vivian could at least work that day.

"But we'll see what happens tomorrow!" she snapped as she shoved three boxes across the counter. "I've got my eye on you."

She made it through two deliveries before she saw the address on the final box; when she did, her heart plummeted into her stomach. It was another delivery for Mrs. Morris.

Vivian's hands trembled as she knocked on the door. What if that same maid—what had her name been?—answered? What if the Morrises were on the lookout for a thief and suddenly remembered, when Mrs. Morris saw her again, that she had been there that day?

No, that wouldn't happen, Vivian reassured herself as the housekeeper—not the maid, thank God—led her upstairs. Mr. Morris couldn't have told his wife, or anyone, that his erotic letter from another woman had gone missing. She didn't need to—

"You've got a hell of a lot of nerve, coming in here like this."

The gruff, angry voice made Vivian jump, tense and alert as a feral alley cat who had just smelled a strange dog in her territory. The housekeeper sighed. "He always forgets to close the door," she murmured. "This way, please."

The shout hadn't been directed at her. But Vivian's heart was still racing as the housekeeper led her past the open door of what she could guess was Mr. Morris's office. He was pacing across the room, his face an angry purple. A woman sat calmly across from him.

"Perhaps you would like to close the door before we continue our discussion?" the woman asked.

Vivian stumbled over her own feet even as the door slammed shut. She knew that voice.

Mrs. Morris was in her sitting room again, alone this time. "Did I hear Mr. Morris shouting?" she grumbled to the housekeeper.

"Another meeting, ma'am," the housekeeper said, going to draw the curtains and adjust the tilt of the mirror in the corner. "He's closed the door now, I believe."

"He always forgets," Mrs. Morris said, shaking her head. "Oh, lovely, this must be my new tea gown?"

Vivian's mind stumbled to keep up as Mrs. Morris chatted through her fitting. There was one spot on the back that needed to be taken in, though it didn't require more than a few stitches. She hurried through the rest of the appointment, shifting her weight impatiently from side to side while Mrs. Morris tried on the dress once more. At last she pronounced it perfect, and Vivian could throw her things into her bag and say a polite good-bye. She hurried down the stairs, afraid that she would be too late.

She almost was. The black car was parked out front, the woman from Mr. Morris's office just about to climb in.

Vivian took a deep breath. "Mrs. Wilson!"

Hattie Wilson paused, her only sign of surprise, then turned very slowly, a pleasant smile on her face. "Miss Kelly. What a happy coincidence. It seems you're not in jail."

"I'm not," Vivian agreed, breathing heavily as she stopped next to the car, hoping she wasn't making a huge mistake. But she had to know if she was right. "You're blackmailing him."

Hattie tilted her head toward the car. "In you go."

Vivian only hesitated a moment before obeying. The driver—not one she recognized this time—slammed the door closed behind them. A moment later, the car pulled smoothly away from the curb.

Mrs. Wilson watched her, giving nothing away. "Well?" she asked.

"Imports are a useful line of business these days," Vivian said pointedly. "What did he sign over to you?"

Hattie raised her brows. "His share in the company. He'll still hold the seat on the board nominally, of course, but he'll vote as I say. I can be very persuasive, even when I don't have blackmail material. When I do have it…" She lifted her shoulder in a pretty little shrug. "I'd have liked to fold the business completely into Wilson Enterprises. Unfortunately, that puts me at a square fifty percent. Which is exactly equal to Mr. Whitcomb and Mr. Rokesby."

"Can't find anything on them?" Vivian asked, her heart pounding as she thought of Corny Rokesby's drinks with his stepfather.

"Mr. Whitcomb is distressingly upstanding, or at least as upstanding as anyone is these days, and Corny refuses to sell me his shares. Sadly, you can't blackmail a young man like him. What am I going to threaten him with, exposing that he drinks? Everyone does."

"He also gambles."

"A relatively common vice, all things considered," Hattie said, shaking her head. "Still, I'm fairly satisfied with how things have progressed and what I do have control of. And who knows what I might discover in the future? Now." Her voice grew a little harder, though her smile didn't disappear. "Did you need something other than the chance to tell me you finally put two and two together?"

"I owe you, right?" Vivian said, thinking quickly. "What if I can tell you something you don't already know? About Mr. Morris?"

Hattie's brows rose. "Depends on what it is."

"You wanted to know who Evangeline Buchanan was having an affair with." Vivian took a deep breath. "She's the E in that letter you had me steal from Mr. Morris."

Hattie Wilson's lips parted, then slowly curved into a smile. "Hmm. That is interesting," she said, sounding amused. "Where did you come across such a curious tidbit, Miss Kelly?"

"Like you've said, I'm a resourceful girl." Vivian watched her carefully. "So are we square?"

That made Mrs. Wilson smile again. "For the moment, Miss Kelly, I believe we are. Now, did you need anything else? Or should I have Peter drop you off at your squalid little home?"

"The squalid home, please," Vivian said, carefully keeping a smile on her own face. "Thanks so much for the chat."

"I can't believe you're working tonight," Bea said, standing aside so Vivian could borrow her dressing table mirror to fix her lipstick. "After everything that happened."

"Where else would I be?" Vivian asked, shaking her head and running her fingers through her hair to smooth it down. The back of her bob tickled her neck. She'd need to get it trimmed soon. "All my favorite people are here. Except Florence, but she's probably already asleep. Apparently, it's tiring to grow a baby."

Bea snorted. "You're not nearly as calm as you're pretending, so quit trying to fool me."

"I can never fool you," Vivian said, setting down her lipstick and meeting her friend's eyes in the mirror. "I'd never even try."

Bea rolled her eyes. She had never been the type of girl who got sentimental. From her, an eye roll was as good as a hug. "All your favorite people, one that you're avoiding, and one that you're not sure if you want to kiss or punch?"

Vivian didn't need to ask who the last two were. "What would you do if you were me?"

"Oh, no, ma'am," Bea said, shaking her head as she bent to tie her shoes. "I don't go in for that messy nonsense. I've got my fella, and he's got his job that's completely separate from here, and that's the way I like it. You keep your romantic troubles to yourself."

"Bea," Vivian protested, laughing in spite of herself.

To her surprise, Bea gave her shoulders a quick squeeze. "I was gonna miss you something fierce," she whispered.

Vivian didn't try to hold her when she stepped back, though she wanted to. "I should hope so," she said, which made Bea roll her eyes again. "Come on, time for you to go wow 'em."

It was crowded and rowdy on the dance floor that night, and at times people were stacked around the bar three and four deep. Vivian eyed the new bartender each time she went to collect another round of drinks, wondering cynically if he would last.

"Can you make something without gin? I can't stand the stuff."

The eager request caught Vivian's attention as she went to drop off her tray and start her first break, though she wasn't sure why. Did she recognize the person talking?

But it was a girl she had never seen before, smiling hopefully at Danny, who clapped a hand to his heart and pretended to be shocked. "Won't drink our gin?" he teased her. "What is the world coming to when I can't serve a pretty doll my signature fizz?"

She giggled. "Is that all you know how to make?" she teased him back. "They told me you could shake up anything."

"Oh, well, in that case." Danny leaned his elbows on the bar and grinned at her. "You look more like a whiskey girl to me. Am I right?"

And that part caught her attention too. Gin and whiskey, she realized.

She hadn't really had time to care about who was poisoning Huxley Buchanan because she wasn't being accused of poisoning him. But it had to be someone around him more than Maggie Chambers had been. Someone like a wife who convinced him and his stepson to share a drink every night. Or a stepson who did what his mother told him.

She set her tray down slowly, staring at Danny and the girl while they continued to banter, Danny barely needing to watch his hands while he mixed her drink.

Some people didn't like gin cocktails.

Corny Rokesby had been one of them.

"Viv?"

The quiet voice interrupted her train of thought, and Vivian turned to find Leo standing near her, spinning his hat on the bar with one hand while he eyed her uneasily. "Wasn't sure if I'd find you here or not," he said.

Vivian swallowed. "You okay?" she asked, not sure what else to say.

For some reason, that made him smile. "I'm doing swell," he said, stepping closer to give her shoulder a gentle bump. "You?"

"Running my feet off," she said. It felt easier to talk about work than anything else. "Lotta troublemakers here tonight."

She gave him a glance that pretended to be stern, and his smile grew. It felt good to tease him again. But it was almost too light, as if both of them were playing a role, not sure exactly what the other expected.

"Well." Leo ran a hand through his hair. "If you have a break coming up soon, can I take you for a spin?"

Vivian almost said no. But he was smiling at her, and for a moment it felt like when they had first met, when he had been nothing but a charming stranger with fast feet and a killer smile. When everything between them had been all possibility and no history.

"I'm on a break now," she said softly. "If you're free."

It was a foxtrot—not one of her favorites, but simple to fall into. They still moved like they had the first time they'd danced together, like they'd been dancing forever. It was easy to glide across the floor in each other's arms.

And it hurt, because the distance was still there. He wasn't a charming stranger. Being with him, being held by him, was comforting. But it was also a reminder of everything hard that had happened, everything she didn't want to think about and he didn't want to discuss. Vivian didn't know if that was the sort of thing time could heal, if they would be able to forgive each other for the way they hadn't been able to weather the storm together.

Sometimes hard things bring you together,Florence had said. And sometimes they push you apart. And sometimes it's no one's fault which it ends up being.

When the dance ended, Vivian didn't pull away. Leo held her close, and she rested her head against his shoulder. Neither of them spoke for a long time. The other dancers moved around them, and if they complained, Vivian didn't hear it.

"Thanks, Leo," she said at last. "For trying. For everything."

He hooked a finger under her chin and lifted it, bending to brush a single, sweet kiss against her lips. "Anytime, Viv," he said softly. "We're pals, yeah?"

"Always." Her smile trembled, but she nodded. "Always."

He held her until it was time for her to return to work. And then he found another partner and got back out on the dance floor. Because Vivian and Leo had that in common, too. When they were dancing, the rest of the world didn't exist.

When her next break rolled around, Honor found her in the alley behind the Nightingale, sitting on a pile of old crates in comfortable silence with Bea while they passed a cigarette back and forth. In the distance, they could hear music, and Bea hummed along, occasionally singing the lyrics under her breath. Vivian tipped her head back, staring at the way the moon edged the clouds with silver. The night air smelled of trash and worse, and the chill of it made her throat ache, but she didn't care. It still felt glorious.

They hadn't left the door open behind them; the city was too quiet tonight, and they knew better than to risk the sounds of a party spilling out into the street where any curious cop passing by might hear it. So when the door opened, they turned immediately, a burst of sound and light spilling over them and briefly making the walls of the alley glow gold.

Honor, silhouetted in the doorway, surveyed them for a moment before letting the door fall closed behind her. "Great set tonight, Bluebird," she said. "That fella I saw lurking around the bandstand wasn't scouting new talent, was he?"

"I wish," Bea said, shaking her head. "Just a little puppy dog looking all hopeful. I told him the bank's closed and sent him packing. I don't think he'll make any trouble over it."

"You let me know if he does, and I'll have Benny or Saul give him a talking-to. Can't let anyone mess with our songbird." Honor was back to her usual self. But she still hesitated before she turned to Vivian. "I hear I have you to thank for catching a problem with our gin order."

Vivian ground out the cigarette against the wall behind her. "I don't think that new fella's going to cut it behind the bar."

Honor sighed. "They never do, do they? No one can keep up with our Danny-boy."

"He hits on all sixes, that's for sure." Bea hopped down from the crates and stretched, though she glanced between Honor and Vivian warily while she did. She knew what had happened by now. "Time for me to get back on the bandstand. You coming, Viv?"

"In a minute," Vivian said, not moving. She didn't think Honor had come out just to talk about the gin. "Go knock 'em dead, Bluebird."

The silence stretched through the alley after Bea was gone, chased by a cold breeze and the sound of two cats fighting in the distance.

"Guess I owe you a drink, for that catch," Honor said at last.

"I don't need a drink," Vivian said softly, standing as well, though she kept her distance. "But I could use your help with something."

"Depends on what it is."

Trust Honor not to agree without laying out terms, even now. It almost made Vivian want to laugh. "A letter. I need help writing a letter that I'm going to convince a lousy fella to sign. And it needs to be airtight. I figure you'd be good at that sort of thing." She took a deep breath. "And like you said. You owe me." They both knew she wasn't talking about the booze order.

"That's true." Honor gave her a considering look. "All right, pet. Come inside, and let's see what we can do."