Tasting the Apple

by Sherilyn Decter

That leaves Maggie, saving the best for last. She steps forward and nervously smooths down the front of her apron. “Joe Kelly. I must be honest and tell you I had my doubts about you the day you showed up on my doorstep.” Everyone laughs. “I couldn’t imagine a policeman living here. And now I can’t imagine our house without you.” Applause. Tommy whistles. “I couldn’t think what to get you to remind you of your time with us and to let you know how special you are to Tommy and me. But I hope, in a small way anyway, this will do the trick.” She hands him a large flat parcel.

  Everyone clusters around as Joe begins to unwraps it. Tommy squeals with excitement. “I know. I know.”

  Maggie shushes him.

  “Oh Maggie, it’s perfect.” Joe holds up a large photo album with a heavily embossed cover. Inside, on the black front page, is a photograph of Maggie, Tommy, Archie, and Clive standing on the veranda of the house. From the the leaves on the trees, it had been taken several weeks ago. Those branches are bare now. Off in one corner is a small blur, but otherwise, it is a beautiful photograph.

  “Speech. Speech.”

  Joe stands in front of the fireplace. “Maggie, Tommy, Archie, and Clive. I want to thank you for your kind words and your thoughtful gifts. You fellas will know a bit about how I felt when I first knocked on Maggie’s door. I was new to Philadelphia, new to policing, and homesick for me own family that I’d left behind. What I didn’t know was that I’d found a new family, one just as special. Fanny and me, we’re going to be getting married, and I want you to know that there will always be space for you in our house. And before that, and seeing as we’re like family and all, if you have a spare minute, I have a paintbrush with your name on it.”

  Everyone cheers and claps. Maggie goes over and hugs him, and Tommy wraps his arms around both of them. Archie slaps him on the back.

  In a timely coincidence, there’s a toot-toot from outside. “That will be me Da with the truck to pick me up.” He gives Maggie another hug. “I’d better be going.”

  “You have everything you need, right? Let me know if you need towels, or a cooking pot or anything, okay?” she hovers over him as he gathers up the two suitcases. A knock at the door is answered, and his father steps in. A flurry of introductions and they’re away.

  Maggie stands on the veranda with the rest of her boys, unconsciously mimicking the pose in the photograph. Frank is off to one, side. Tommy waving enthusiastically. Mr. Kelly gives the horn a toot, and they pull away. Maggie fishes her handkerchief out of the pocket of her apron.

  “Oh silly me.”

  Tommy pats her on the back. “It’s okay, Mother. You’ll see him again at the wedding.”

  “I know, you’re right, sweetheart.” Or sooner, when we get our new Minnow location. “Come on inside, and you can have another piece of cake.”

  * * * *

  They’re just starting supper when the doorbell rings. Maggie answers it. The newest lodger is standing on the veranda.

  “Mrs. Barnes. I’m so sorry I’m late. We had a story breaking just as I was leaving and I couldn’t pass it up. My apologies.”

  Everyone around the table cranes to catch a glimpse of the new arrival. Tucked into his fedora that he’s holding in his hands is a white card with ‘PRESS’ in bold black letters; a camera’s slung over one shoulder.

  “Of course, Mr. Beamish. We were just sitting down to dinner. Just leave your things here and please come through. I’ll introduce you to everyone.”

  Introductions made, reporter Dick Beamish slides into Joe’s chair.

  Out with the old and in with the new. Maggie lifts her glass in a silent toast to Joe.

  “So, you’re a newspaperman. That must be interesting,” says Archie.

  “Oh, I’ll say. Let me tell you about the story I was covering just before I showed up here…”

  Chapter 40

  W hile Tommy is an able, if unenthusiastic, stand-in, Maggie misses the camaraderie of washing and drying the dishes with Joe. He was right about the companionship created when two people share a task. Over the dish suds, she’s able to keep an eye on Tommy’s tutoring progress and how he’s managing at school. He still hasn’t come clean about what had happened during the math test, but she hopes he will sometime soon. She knows he isn’t a cheater, and suspects that he’s covering for a friend. But that’s a conversation for another time, and unless another lodger volunteers to help tidy up, there will be lots of opportunities to dig further.

  After a final swipe with the cloth to the sink, Maggie heads upstairs to change for another night out with Edith and Mickey. At this rate, she’ll never get her homework done. Tomorrow I will crack open those textbooks. Edith is using her to shield a ‘chance’ run-in with Tony; Maggie is less than pleased. That girl is playing with fire. And I’ve been singed by Mickie’s flame before. What’s that saying? ‘Once burned, twice shy?’

  The purple dress hangs on the back of the door. A spray of pale pink rosebuds is in a glass on her dressing table, waiting to be tucked into her hair. It’ll be the second time she’s worn it to the Cadix, but there aren’t too many other options. Any more invitations and she’ll need to visit Edith’s closet again.

  There’s an ‘ahem’ behind her. She turns.

  “Inspector. Thank you for agreeing to talk with me here. There haven’t been two moments of peace all day.”

  “Well, I don’t usually make a habit of calling on ladies in their bedrooms.”

  “I couldn’t think of another space that had any privacy. I need to pass along the news from Joe. They’re planning another raid tomorrow night. It’s the same set-up as last time. The announcement about the raid will be made at Unit One’s Morning Report tomorrow. They expect that Copeland will make the call before lunch. Can you be at his office?”

  “Yes. I’ll be there at nine, after Report, and will let you know what I hear.”

  Maggie nods. “I miss Joe already. I mean, Dick’s a nice enough fella, and there seems to be lots of pep in him, but he’s no Joe Kelly.”

  “Maggie, you’re going to see Joe next week when you get your new Minnow assignment. And then there’s the wedding. You’ll still see him frequently.”

  “Oh, I suppose. But it’s not the same as him living here.”

  Frank smiles in commiseration. “How are you feeling about tonight? Do you need me to come along?”

  Maggie imagines for a moment Frank at the Club Cadix and shakes her head. “No. It’s taken a while, but I’m finally getting comfortable being in the same room as Mickey. And Edith’s in a spin over this Tony fella, so I need to be there. Besides, it’s my only outing. I like getting all dolled up and stepping out. Heck, I may even take a turn on the dance floor,” Maggie says, tossing her head, and winking at the Inspector.

  Frank eyes the purple dress on the hanger. “You’re going to look lovely in that dress. Is it new?”

  “Another of Edith’s cast offs. It’s a little snug across the shoulders, but I guess beggars can’t be choosers.”

  “Times will get better, Maggie. It’s always darkest before the dawn.”

  “I’d better get dressed. They’re coming to pick me up soon.”

  “All right my dear. I’ll talk with you tomorrow, as soon as I hear who calls Captain Copeland.”

  Maggie nods, then blinks, and Frank is gone.

  * * * *

  Edith’s just back from another trip to the powder room.

  “Are you okay, Edith? Tummy troubles?”

  “No, just restless.” Edith scans the room. When she is at the table, her head swivels like a beacon. Mickey pours himself another glass of champagne and tops up Edith’s and Maggie’s.

  “Who are you looking for?” Maggie asks, her hand on Edith’s arm to get her attention.

  “No one. Just looking.”

  “So, how’s business, Mrs. Barnes. Line up any more clients?”

  Maggie’s pleased with her progress; she didn’t flinch when Mickey was talking directly to her. “Just the one, but I
remain hopeful for others. I haven’t had a chance to drop by the neighborhood businesses, but hopefully this weekend. My accounting professor is going to write me a letter of reference that I can include with my resume. Every little bit helps.”

  “You know, Mrs. Barnes. I was talking with my accountant, and he mentioned that he’s a bit short-handed these days. Why don’t I give you his name, and you can call on him?”

  “Oh, Mr. Duffy,” Maggie says. A small shudder goes through her. Heavens, that new accountant would be Eugene’s replacement.

  But the fear passes as other ideas quickly fill her mind. She’s torn. To have the inside access to Mickey’s books would be like being handed the keys to the kingdom. But to work for a bootlegger and be part of that whole criminal world? Especially this bootlegger? That would be too much.

  “Mr. Duffy, thank you. I appreciate the offer, but I couldn’t presume on our, ah, friendship. No, I’ll carry on as I am.”

  Maybe I should talk it over with the Inspector first? It is a good opportunity.

  “If you’re sure, Mrs. Barnes. I’ll leave the offer open. Just say the word.”

  Maggie offers a smile. “Thank you again, Mr. Duffy, but I’m sure.”

  And the conversation ends with Edith startling. Coming toward them is a dashing, well-dressed fella that Maggie can only presume is Tony. Oh my goodness, and Mickey sitting right here?

  Tony reaches their table. “Mr. Duffy, Mrs. Duffy.”

  Mickey stands. The two men shake hands. “Giordano. Didn’t expect to see you tonight. This is our friend Mrs. Barnes.”

  Tony bends over Edith’s hand and kisses it. Maggie is sure that Edith is going to swoon. He repeats the gesture with Maggie. “Actually, I came over to see if Mrs. Barnes would have a dance with me? We can’t have such a beautiful gal sitting on the sidelines.”

  Maggie looks at Edith, alarmed. Edith looks back, a small frown clouding her perfect face.

  “Mrs. Barnes?” Tony stands with his elbow out. Maggie takes it. “I’d love to.” The two head off onto the dance floor.

  After their dance, Tony brings Maggie back to the table. She’s charmed with his manners and wit. Edith is alone.

  “Would you like to sit down, Detective?” Edith nods toward Mickey’s chair.

  “No. I think that I’ve had my fun, Mrs. Duffy. Thank you for a lovely dance, Mrs. Barnes,” Tony says, leaning down and kissing her hand. Maggie can feel Edith bristle. He picks up Edith’s hand for the same courtly gesture. “And give my regards to your husband when he returns, Mrs. Duffy.” He lingers over Edith’s hand, stroking it. With a lingering kiss to the inside of Edith’s wrist, he’s gone.

  Maggie cringes at the intimacy of that kiss.

  “Isn’t he just the dreamiest?” Edith whispers to Maggie.

  “He’s very good looking. And a smooth dancer. I can see what you see in him,” Maggie says, leaning close to Edith so as not to be overheard.

  “Well, just remember he’s spoken for.” Edith drains her champagne and refills the glasses. Her eyes scan the room; eyes only for Tony.

  “He also has some nerve to come over with Mickey right here. That’s some death wish. The two of you.”

  “I know. He said he was going to do it, but I told him he didn’t have the stones. I guess he does have the stones.” Edith giggles into her empty champagne glass.

  “What’s he have to prove? And what’s up with him and Mickey, anyway? All the time we were dancing it was Mickey this and Mickey that. And that kiss? I thought you said that nothing’s happened. It doesn’t look so innocent to me.”

  Edith blushes and she reaches over, draining Maggie’s champagne. “Come on, Miss Cranky Pants. I need to go to the little girls’ room again.” She jumps up and grabs Maggie’s hand, pulling her up.

  On their way back to the table, Maggie spies Mickey in a secluded corner. His back is to her. There is a pair of bare female arms wrapped around his neck is an intimate embrace. Maggie grabs hold of Edith’s arm to steer her away, but it is too late. As the two stand and stare, Mickey steps back and they can see the girl.

  “It’s that Delores bitch. What is she, twelve? He said they were through. I’m going to kill him.”

  Maggie hangs on to her, keeping her from storming over.

  “Edith, no. Wait. Let’s go back to the table before he sees us. There will be a better time to have it out with him than here and now.”

  Maggie’s body vibrates from Edith’s trembling. “All right, Mags. We’ll go sit down, but I swear, this is the last time. I will kill him.”

  Chapter 41

  O ne moment Maggie is tidying the breakfast dishes while humming a tune from last night’s dance band at the Cadix, and the next there’s a loud knock at the front door. Edith is standing on Maggie’s veranda, arms full of flowers. Hilda is behind her. Heading from the car is Porter, one of Mickey’s men, loaded down with more packages.

  “Edith. My goodness. You’re early. The tea isn’t for hours yet.”

  Edith breezes past, her helpers in tow.

  “We’ve lots to do, doll. Now, where should I put these?”

  Maggie yells up the stairs for Tommy. The five of them spend the morning organizing for Fanny’s bridal tea. Clive and Archie head out to the ballpark, avoiding the dames and all the frou-frou activity. Dick bangs away on his typewriter behind his closed door.

  Edith has Tommy putting vases of flowers on various tables, and then rearranges them. She’s a little general director to her troops. Hilda busies herself in the kitchen, storing canapes in the refrigerator and plating tiny tea sandwiches on tiered serving dishes. Maggie sets out the silver tea service that Edith has brought over; she caresses its smooth curves. Porter rearranges the furniture in the living room and dining room, making sure there are plenty of chairs set out. At one point, he’s sent over to retrieve the dining room chairs from the Duffy’s.

  Maggie’s stunned by the transformation. “It looks like the Queen of England is coming for tea.”

  “I think it looks swell,” Edith says, grinning back at her. “You can do a lot with fresh flowers. Now, you and Tommy head upstairs and change, and Hilda and I will look after the last minute touches.”

  Maggie detours and hugs Edith. She pecks her on the cheek. “You are the best,” Maggie says.

  * * * *

  Ladies in their Sunday best balance china teacups and dainty plates. Maggie works the front door, welcoming members of Fanny’s family, a gaggle of gals from Fanny’s work, and members of Joe’s family. Tommy ferries wraps and coats upstairs to Maggie’s bedroom. And there is an additional guest: Maggie has included her mother in the guest list. Cordelia relishes her role as Queen Bee in Maggie’s house. The room is buzzing with chatter.

  Maggie is able to avoid her mother by introducing her to one of Fanny’s confident friends. The modern woman will provide Cordelia with a lively debate.

  Causing quite a bit of excitement is a silver bucket filled with bottles of champagne. The Irish contingent doesn’t see the fuss, not suffering the deprivation of Prohibition across the pond. And the flappers are giddy being able to imbibe at an occasion they thought would be stuffy, boring, and dry.

  The small table that Porter and Tommy have hauled down from her bedroom is piled with gifts for the bride-to-be.

  Fanny is glowing. She’s wearing a beautiful chiffon dress that floats around her as she moves from guest to guest. Maggie is delighted to see her so radiant. This week—what with the wedding, visiting out-of-town family, and moving into the new house—would be enough to stress anyone, but Fanny sails through it serenely.

  Eventually, Maggie has a few minutes, and sits between Joe’s mother and grandmother. She’s only met Joe’s mother once before, and knows very little about Joe’s grandmother—on his father’s side.

  “Fanny’s going to make a beautiful bride, Mrs. Kelly,” Maggie says to Joe’s mother, a tiny woman who appears to have seen years of hard work.

  “It’s easy to see why Joe is
so taken with her.” Mrs. Kelly beams at her daughter-in-law to be. “Three Mrs. Kellys. Mrs. Barnes, have you had a chance to meet my mother-in-law, Mrs. Jeanne Kelly?”

  “I have been waiting for the pleasure. Welcome to Philadelphia, Mrs. Kelly. Is this your first visit to America?”

  “I was here once before when Fiona, my eldest granddaughter, was married. I must say that I’ve not yet developed a taste for the big city. Give me the rolling green hills of Kilkenny over this traffic and cat-melodeon any day.”

  Maggie is entranced with the singsong of her words. “Cat melodeon?”

  “A yowling cat when someone steps on its tail, a leanbh.”