Circling around, Margaret noticed Finn had moved to the table, but stood stiffly behind a chair. Smiling, she said, “Sit yourself down, Finn, or I’ll cuff you upside your head.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Finn promptly moved back around the table and pulled out her chair. After she had sat, Finn returned to the other side, placed his cap on the chairs ear, and settled onto the seat.
“Go ahead, eat.” Finn picked up the napkin and placed it across his lap before he bit into the sandwich. “You have very fine manners for a street kid. There’s more to you, young Cavanaugh, than you let people know.”
Margaret noted a half-second of fear flash across Finn’s features before regaining his composure.
“Thank you, ma’am.”
“You say ma’am to me one more time, Finn, and I will indeed cuff you. It’s Margaret. Do you give your mother this much grief?” At the pained expression, Margaret said, “I’m sorry. Was it recent?”
Finn shook his head and took another bite, chewed thoughtfully and swallowed. Slowly, he took a drink of milk and wiped his mouth with the napkin. Such manners Finn had. Not even Jimmy ate so politely, and he was supposedly trying to impress her. “My mother and older brother were killed in a fire, four years ago.” Finn’s gaze fell to the milk glass as if it would drown the memories. “Would’a got me too, but I was...um...” Finn scrunched up his brow as if deciding how much to say to her. “I...uh...was playing in the streets, stuff I shouldn’t have been doing. It was getting late, and I just didn’t want to go home yet.” With a halfhearted shrug, Finn said. “Kinda wanna stay outta trouble now, at least for a bit, ’til I get enough scratch to move west.”
The way Finn glossed over the incident, Margaret knew Finn left as much of the story unsaid. From some of the conversations she’d overheard her father and his friends discuss years ago, Margaret knew the streets were not good for an adolescent. Things had become a bit more organized over the last thirty or forty years, but not any less brutal or deadly for children.
A lighthearted observation Margaret made of Finn was how decent his speech around her until he spoke of the past. Then it became slang-filled. “Do you think you would have been able to save them?” she asked. “Or would you have perished, too?”
“I dunno. The place was nothin’ but tinder, so can’t know if anyone, including me, would’ve been faster than those flames.”
Margaret could tell from the slight twitch of his lips, the expression of emotions swimming in the golden brown eyes, Finn felt deep guilt, but whether from surviving because playing at the time or for not perishing with his family, she couldn’t tell. “Well, I’m glad you’re here, alive and well. If you weren’t, goodness only knows what would have happened to me in that alley.”
With a shrug, Finn said, “Willie would’a found someone else to help.”
“Why do I doubt that?” Margaret smiled at Finn, who seemed to have trouble accepting compliments. One of the other things Margaret found fascinating was the little glint in the soft brown eyes when Finn used slang, and she wondered why it happened. She was just happy to know the meaning behind some of the slang words, thanks to college—words like scratch. “So what are you saving your money for, or shouldn’t I ask?”
Another negligent shrug, this with only one shoulder. “Want to go west to live in the mountains, maybe get a job doing carpentry work.”
“You like woodworking then?”
Finn beamed a brilliant smile. “Oh, yes, who wouldn’t? The smell from cutting and working the wood is extraordinary. The feeling of accomplishment when you’ve finished a project and can stand back and see you’ve created something useful, something solid, even beautiful. You’d know in a minute if you’d done good or bad.”
“Oh, Finn,” Margaret said with a pleased smile. “Your enthusiasm is a striking thing. If you put as much heart into your carpentry work, I’m certain everything you create would be better than just good.”
For a moment, Finn wouldn’t meet her gaze, a deep red flush coloring his face. When Finn did look back to her, he asked softly, “What about you, Ma…Margaret, what would you need to be doing to make you happy?”
To be loved, cared for, and needed for me and not as a commodity, her inner voice responded. Yes, Margaret wanted someone to love her for herself; however, the possibility that person would be the gender she truly desired would be slim to impossible. She also knew Jimmy worked hard, daily, to get Eldon to agree to his bid for marriage with her. Since Jimmy had moved into the house, it was all but a matter of time. Margaret had resigned herself to the fact marriage would be her only future, but she wouldn’t allow that man to be or be someone like Jimmy Bennett. These were things she couldn’t tell Finn or anyone. She didn’t think it would hurt to tell Finn a little of the truth. “I want to teach in a school, to be the teacher I went to college to be.”
“Eldon doesn’t want his sister demeaning herself?” Finn asked, his hand wrapping hers in a gentle blanket of warmth. The jolt it sent through her body surprised Margaret, as did the sense of safety flooding her.
Margaret knew she should pull her hand away, chastise Finn for taking liberties, but couldn’t do it. Instead, she stared hard at Finn. “You can’t be sixteen,” she said firmly, “or even a boy. You’re just too darn astute.” Was that again a flash of fright in Finn’s expression? What brought it on? She decided to deal with the questions later. The last thing Margaret wanted was to alienate the only person she seemed able to talk freely with, who made her feel safe talking about herself. “Yes, Eldon let me go to school because it made our mother happy, and I was out of his hair for a while. Now, I’m to learn my place, meaning marry and make him an uncle. The marriage arrangement would have to be lucrative to his business, somehow. Although I believe, a large part is to have me off his hands for good. Then our familial time can be relegated to holidays and special occasions.”
“I think I’m glad for being a poor, unimportant kid, then,” Finn said with a wry grin.
“Why’s that?”
“Don’t fit anyone’s grand schemes. I could fall off the face of the world, no one would care.” As though reluctantly, Finn released her hand and sat back in the chair.
“I seriously doubt that Finn,” Margaret assured. She remembered the pleased excitement on Claire’s face, the adoration on Willie’s. Even Mrs. Donnelly’s face had brightened at the mention of Finn on their visit yesterday. No, many would miss Finn Cavanaugh, herself included, and they’d just met. “I can’t imagine anyone meeting you and not being positively changed by the experience in some way.”
Finn seemed poised to dispute her comment when the click, click of heeled footsteps sounded outside the room. Clamping her teeth from uttering her frustration at the intrusion, and when Finn jumped to his feet, Margaret turned to see Lorraine swishing into the kitchen, a beautiful blonde blur in lavender taffeta nightclothes—and high heels. Margaret wondered if Lorraine, Eldon’s live-in girlfriend, had internal radar alerting her when a fresh male was on the premises. “Good afternoon, Lorraine.”
“Good—” Lorraine’s perfectly manicured hand flew to her chest in feigned surprise. Margaret rolled her eyes at the other woman’s repulsive maneuver to draw attention to her cleavage. “I didn’t realize we had a guest, or I would have dressed. I just came down for some coffee,” Lorraine said breathlessly. Somehow, Margaret suspected Lorraine did know about Finn and selected her outfit to best place a boy at a disadvantage.
“Well, you’ll have to deal with the instant kind this late in the day.” Margaret reluctantly stood, filled the kettle, and placed it on the stove. Lorraine still stood in the doorway as if uncertain what to do. Snorting, Margaret said, “Sit down, Lorraine.”
Dutifully, Finn pulled out the chair he’d been using. When Lorraine glided over, gave a quick batting of her ice-blue eyes, Finn pushed the chair closer to the table and hurriedly picked up the dirty dishes and rushed them to the sink. “What a polite, and terribly handsome, young man you are,”
Lorraine crooned.
“Thank you, ma’am,” Finn said quietly.
“No, thank you—” Lorraine raised a questioning eyebrow.
When Finn didn’t take the bait, Margaret gave the introductions. “Finn Cavanaugh, Lorraine Mills,” Margaret said, intentionally making introductions against etiquette by putting Finn first. She turned to Finn, “Eldon’s girlfriend.”
“Pleasure, ma’am,” Finn said nodding. Finn raised one corner of his lips in a small grin, a strange underlying humor meant only for her to see, and once again, amazing Margaret by what appeared to be incredible understanding of human nature. “I really should be going, Miss Margaret. Thank you for lunch.” Finn walked back to the table and reached behind Lorraine to grab his cap.
Quick as the snake she was, Lorraine grasped Finn’s forearm. “Must you leave so soon? We’ve just met and haven’t had a chance to chat.”
Extricating himself smoothly from Lorraine’s grasp, Finn said, “Yes, ma’am. I have things to do before starting work for Mr. Graham.” Finn flipped the cap atop his head, gave a polite bow to Lorraine, and walked closer to Margaret. She watched with surprised absorption as Finn took her hand, gently placed a soft kiss on her knuckles, and said sweetly, “Until the pleasure of meeting again, Miss Margaret, good day.”
Finn jauntily exited out the kitchen door leaving the room deathly quiet.
“Well, of all—” With a snort, Lorraine got up from the table and started for the main part of the house. “What about your coffee?” Margaret asked.
“Forget it,” Lorraine snapped. “I’m going back to my room.”
Margaret smiled wide at her departing back. “Thought as much.” She expected Lorraine was incensed that a male occupied the room, even a boy of Finn’s age, and she wasn’t the center of his undivided attention. Gleefully glancing at the stove, Margaret mumbled at Lorraine’s back, “That’s why I never started the heat under the kettle.”
Chapter Six
THE BACK DOOR to the restaurant had been propped open, making it easier for Fiona to unload the truck of the foodstuffs for the kitchen. She’d started on her third week of working for Eldon and, for the most part, the worst issues encountered were her tired and sore muscles. For that, she was grateful. However, after just short of a month, Fiona also realized there was more to Eldon’s restaurant business than the public witnessed, more than probably legal.
Not that she cared overly. Fiona simply wanted to keep a low profile, build her savings, and run away to the mountains out west and start life with fresh memories. With some of the political changes breathed about, like the federal involvement in the institution of prohibition, she expected it would be more difficult to hide, let alone Eldon running his business. More law enforcement officers to impose the laws of prohibition, and more men willing to do whatever it took to be the top dog in a profitable business. As dangerous as life was now, it was about to get a lot worse.
Some days, however, being the proverbial fly on the wall, the person no one paid attention to, was easier said than done. “Hey, kid, got a kiss for us?” came a sultry voice behind Fiona. Lucky for her, Fiona wasn’t garnering the negative attention of Eldon or Jimmy, but the notice of the women working Eldon’s restaurants. Fiona placed the case of goods she carried on top of the others she’d brought in from the truck. She turned around with a smile, pulled her cap off her head, and bowed to the two women standing just outside the storeroom. “Now, ladies, do I look like a heel?” she asked teasingly.
“Maybe he’s embarrassed to get caught kissing instead of working,” said Molly, a tall skinny redhead.
The shorter, slightly rotund blonde woman, Dorcas, giggled. “How does a simple kiss make you a heel, Finn?” Fiona shook her head and walked between them to get out of the storeroom, nervous about being cornered. Dorcas latched on to Fiona’s arm, forcing her to stop between them. With her other hand, Dorcas slowly ran her fingers through Fiona’s already tousled hair. “You have kissed a girl before, haven’t you Finn?”
Claire’s image flashed in Fiona’s head, and her face flamed.
“I’ll take that as yes, Dorcas.” Molly moved closer, so they sandwiched Fiona tightly in the middle. “Why won’t you kiss us, Finn?” Molly asked, her lips softly brushing Fiona’s ear. Goosebumps erupted in response.
“Why would it make you a heel?” Dorcas asked with an exaggerated pout.
Fiona shivered and nervously cleared her throat, her grip tightened on the cap twisted in her grip. She tried to think of an appropriate answer over the heavy hammering of her heartbeat. “Um, ’cause I can’t kiss you at the same time, right? The first girl I kissed would think they were my favorite, breaking the heart of the other. I adore you both the same.” Fiona gave a sad expression. “Don’t make me choose, dolls. Give a fella a break, could’ya?”
“Wha’d’ya say, Moll’s? Let the little cake-eater off the hook?”
“Aw, come on, I’m trying to be straight with you,” Fiona whined playfully.
Molly pursed her lips in thought for a moment. “Okay, I’ll give in if he agrees to give us a lift home.”
Fiona sighed in relief. “It would be my pleasure.” Dorcas and Molly each kissed a cheek, and she felt her face heat again. “Let me get the last crate off the truck.” She smiled at each woman in turn and moved to the back door. Fiona stopped dead in her tracks seeing Margaret standing silently with a humorous expression on her face. “Miss Margaret,” Fiona blurted the obvious.
“Morning, Finn,” Margaret said quietly. “Am I interrupting?”
“No, ma—” Fiona didn’t finish the intended address when Margaret quirked an eyebrow. “No. Did I miss an appointment driving you somewhere?”
Margaret shook her head. “Actually, no, I came—”
Before she finished her explanation, Jimmy plowed through the back door. “Did you find him?” he demanded of Margaret, before noticing Fiona. “Hey, runt, we need you to drive Margaret home. You can finish your deliveries afterward. Eldon and I have an unscheduled meeting. When you’re done deliveries, come to the main office.” Fiona resisted the urge to shudder at the violent glint in his eye and the sneer dancing on his lips. She knew her boss, and this goon was about to hurt someone—very badly, too, from Jimmy’s excited reaction.
“I’m sorry, Finn. I know you had other work scheduled,” Margaret said.
“Don’t apologize to him,” Jimmy said harshly. “He does as he’s told. I’d better not hear he’s been whining. You understand me?” Jimmy asked as he cuffed Fiona roughly on the back of her head. She winced but held her ground. Behind her, Fiona heard Molly and Dorcas gasp. She’d almost forgotten the other witnesses to this conversation.
Margaret insinuated herself between Fiona and Jimmy and swiftly slapped his forearm. “That was uncalled for.” Margaret crossed her arms defensively, standing directly in front of Fiona. “You’ve brought me safely here, and Finn will safely take me home. I suggest you don’t keep my brother waiting to conduct his meeting.” Margaret snarled the last word. Fiona wondered if she knew the type of meetings her brother conducted.
With a grunt, Jimmy spun on his heel and stormed into the alley.
“Well, that was pleasant,” Margaret said, turning to stare directly at Fiona. “Are you okay?” she asked. Margaret raised a hand toward her head, but Fiona managed to duck away from it, slapping her cap on her head. “Had worse,” Fiona said, stuffing her hands in her pockets to hide their trembling. Margaret frowned at her, looking hurt by Fiona’s avoidance. The look shot an unexpected pain through Fiona. What did the hurt expression mean? Fiona wondered. “Let me get that last crate, and I’ll take you home, Miss Margaret.”
Fiona did just that. She retrieved the last item from her truck, placed it in the storeroom, surprised to find three sets of eyes on her when she closed the door behind her. Two sets looked slightly uncomfortable, and one set determined. Margaret spoke first. “A promise is a promise, Finn. We’ll take the ladies home before me, and then you
can meet up with Eldon.”
“As you wish, Miss—” Fiona noted the flash of frustration in Margaret’s gaze. Swallowing audibly, Fiona simply said, “Okay.”
It was a tight fit, but they all manage to squeeze into the cab of the truck, Margaret wedged closest to Fiona, because she would be the last out. Fiona had the driver window down, keeping one arm outside to give just a bit more space. Or so she tried to tell herself, ignoring the comforting warmth of Margaret’s body and thigh pressed against hers, the soft curve of Margaret’s left breast rubbing into Fiona’s ribs with each breath she took. Torture, pure and simple torture the contact was, and the arm outside the truck helped ground her.
Fiona hoped her relief wasn’t too obvious when she pulled up to the tenement the two women shared a room in. “Here you go, ladies,” she said, pulling to the curb.
Dorcas exited first and rushed from the curb to the driver side door. She pulled Fiona’s face through the open window and placed a loud wet kiss on her cheek. “You’re a sweet kid, Finn.”
“Yes, thank you, Finn,” Molly said, batting her eyelashes exaggeratedly as she closed the passenger door. Dorcas hurriedly joined Molly on the sidewalk.
Blowing an air kiss, Dorcas said, “We owe you.”
“Have a great day,” Fiona said, slowly pulling away. She knew her face was red, could feel the heat of embarrassment all over. Exacerbating the situation for her, Fiona realized Margaret hadn’t made use of the extra room she now had on the seat, although she’d shifted, so they weren’t so flush.
As Fiona carefully maneuvered the streets on the way to the Graham home, she wondered what went through Margaret’s mind right now. The left corner of her mouth would lift subtly from time to time. Once again, Margaret broke the extended silence. “You truly are sweet. And the way you get all red in spite of the tan is so adorable. No wonder the women like you.”
Speakeasy, Speak Love Page 3