The Bootlegger's Daughter (Daughters Of The Roaring Twenties Book 1)

by Lauri Robinson

  The feeling inside her was impossible to explain, or to identify. Not willing to focus on what it was, she took the globe and thanked Ty. Inside, she stopped in her office to put the snow globe on her desk. “I need to go wash my hands.”

  “I’ll talk with your father,” Ty said. “Tell him what we discovered. Or do you want me to wait for you?”

  If Ginger had been found, when they’d pulled up Bronco would have said something rather than just waving from his post. She shook her head. “Go ahead.”

  He lingered in the doorway for a moment, as if he wanted to say something else, but then stepped aside and gestured for her to go ahead of him.

  Norma Rose didn’t look back as she walked down the hall to the powder room, but she knew Ty watched her. She had a feeling that if she did turn around she’d never be able to make sense out of anything. Especially not what was happening inside her. None of it had anything to do with Ginger, either.

  What was happening to her? It was barely four o’clock and yet she was exhausted, as if she’d worked days without rest. She couldn’t blame that on Ginger, either. With her sister missing, she should have been in panic mode, but she wasn’t. Ever since Ty had assured her that Ginger had run away, there was a tiny part of her that was happy. Glad her sister had escaped. That was not something she’d ever have imagined feeling.

  Entering the room, Norma Rose removed her gloves and turned on the water, washing away the stickiness of the cotton candy. Her hands were still blue and despite everything, she smiled at that.

  Smiled.

  She must be exhausted. There was nothing funny about blue hands. There was nothing to be relieved about when it came to Ginger running away, either, and she knew she shouldn’t be standing there thinking about cotton candy and snow globes. But no matter how hard she tried, her mind kept going back to the afternoon. A chill rippled her spine, recalling the stares burning holes in her as she’d walked beside Ty. Unlike Bald Eagle folks, the people of White Bear Lake gossiped. About some things. About her. They had way back when and they would again now.

  Norma Rose turned off the water, but let her hands rest on the taps. She was no longer sixteen and poor, carrying water from an outside well to wash remade clothes and darning her socks each night to get one more day out of them.

  She’d come a long way since those days, and was never going back. Let them talk. Let them wonder who Ty was. She had far more important things to do, and as her mother once told her, gossips were often narrow-minded people, and narrowed-minded people were often gossips because they were jealous.

  Feeling better, but still thinking about cotton candy and snow globes—she’d need more time than washing her hands had given her to work herself out of that barrel—Norma Rose opened the door. The hall was empty. Ty would tell her father all they’d learned, and— Her mind paused right there. When had she started to trust him? He would tell her father all he needed to know. Meaning he wouldn’t say a thing about Twyla’s little adventure. She trusted him to keep that quiet.

  Her blue fingers trembled slightly. She’d never trusted anyone, not like this, not with such secrets. One more thing she’d have to add to her list of notions to ponder. Right now, she would grab a new pair of gloves and find Twyla. There wasn’t much more she could do about Ginger, until they found her, but she could put a stop to Twyla’s shenanigans.

  Wearing a fresh pair of black gloves, Norma Rose walked down the hall to Twyla’s closed bedroom door. Filling her lungs with fresh air, and holding it in until she couldn’t any longer, she let out the air and knocked on her sister’s door.

  “Go away, I’m busy.”

  Twisting the knob proved the door was locked. Norma Rose walked back to her room, where she retrieved a master key from the hidden drawer in her jewelry box. Returning to Twyla’s room, she unlocked the door and threw it open.

  Her sister, sitting at her vanity table, crying, wasn’t what she’d expected to find.

  “What’s wrong now?” Norma Rose asked, sighing.

  Twyla’s mascara had streaked black lines down both cheeks. Without a word, her sister simply turned her head around.

  “Oh, good heavens,” Norma Rose groaned, at the sight of the darning needle sticking out of Twyla’s earlobe.

  “It’s stuck,” Twyla said.

  There was no whine or cry in Twyla’s tone, and that’s what struck Norma Rose. Her sister was as disgusted as she was. She closed the door and crossed the room, sitting down on the bed.

  “When are you going to grow up, Twyla?”

  Twyla turned around to face her. “When are you going to let me?”

  “Twyla—”

  “Don’t,” her sister interrupted. “Don’t start, Norma Rose. And don’t give me that condescending look, either. You have no idea what it’s like. Yes, you were seventeen when Mother died and you took over her role without an ounce of complaint, but I was fifteen. I could have done more then, and I could do more now if anyone would ever give me the chance.”

  Norma Rose had been ready to react, but as Twyla had continued, Ty’s words came to mind, when he’d said that Twyla had a point. She let the point settle. “How can you expect to be given a chance when you act so immaturely?”

  “I haven’t always acted like this. For years I’ve tried to show you and father that I’m responsible and mature, but you never acknowledged any of it. I did everything I could and neither of you saw anything but a child. That’s why I decided to act like a child, until one of you was ready to see I was serious.”

  “It’s a little difficult to take someone seriously when they have a darning needle sticking out of one ear.”

  “See?” Twyla threw her hands in the air.

  Norma Rose sighed.

  “Father wouldn’t even let any of us go to college,” Twyla said. “What kind of parent does that? We could afford it.”

  Understanding Twyla was deadly serious, Norma Rose agreed. “Yes, we could afford it, but you hated school.”

  “So? I still would have liked the decision to be mine.”

  Ty’s comment wouldn’t leave her mind, and Norma Rose nodded. “I can understand that.” She understood more than anyone might know. There’d been a time when she’d dreamed of going to college herself. There hadn’t been any money then, but she’d dreamed of what else might be out there. “I’m sorry,” she said, for several reasons. “Honestly, I am.”

  “I’m sorry, too,” Twyla said. “And I’m tired of it. So tired of it.” She stood and walked to the bed, where she sat down by Norma Rose. “Do you remember how close we were before mother died?”

  “Of course I do. All four of us shared a bedroom,” Norma Rose reminded her.

  “And it wasn’t so bad,” Twyla said. “Because we shared more than a room, we shared lives. We shared secrets and clothes and laughs.”

  A shiver rippled over Norma Rose. “We shared soup, too,” she said. “One kettle full, for all of us, to last the whole day.”

  “I remember that, too,” Twyla said. “We all do. I’m not saying I want to live like that again, I don’t want to share a room with any of you, but I do want—oh, never mind, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

  “But you did,” Norma Rose said, “so finish it. What is it you do want?” Maybe it was time she was honest about a few things, too. “Because I have to tell you, I’m tired, too.”

  She wasn’t exactly sure how she’d expected Twyla to respond, but it certainly wasn’t with empathy.

  “As you should be,” Twyla said, laying a hand on Norma Rose’s knee. “You work sixteen hours a day, every day, and there’s no reason you should. You used to let us all help, but since business took off, all you let any of us do is wash sheets and sweep floors.”

  Norma Rose opened her mouth, but Twyla lifted her hand. “Let me finish. Yes, the laundry and cleaning has to be done, but there is more all of us could do. Granted, you let Josie help with special party decorations, but why can’t she decorate the dining room every day? Or
the ballroom, or even just the entranceway? Have you seen how she folds the towels for guests? They’re practically works of art. And Ginger—”

  Norma Rose held her breath. Had Ginger been found while she’d been gone?

  “You’re worried about replacing Brock, well, Ginger could do that in a flash. She knows more about music and performing than half the musicians in the area, and I know she’d rather do that than make beds.”

  “She’s told you that? When?” Norma Rose asked, hoping Twyla’s answer would tell her that Ginger was home safe and sound.

  “She didn’t have to tell me that,” Twyla said. “It’s obvious, just as it’s obvious that she’s as tired of being treated like a child as I am.”

  “You’ve talked to her about this today?”

  “No, I haven’t seen her today, but that’s not the point,” Twyla said. “Ginger, Josie and I are tired of just being Roger Nightingale’s daughters.”

  Norma Rose couldn’t fathom how to respond to that.

  Twyla laughed. “Don’t look so shocked. We love Daddy, and we love you, but we are grown women and it’s time both you and Father started treating us as such.”

  Still not sure what to say, Norma Rose pointed out the obvious. “This coming from a woman with a darning needle stuck in one ear.”

  “Oh, for Christ’s sake,” Twyla stormed.

  “Watch your mouth,” Norma Rose scolded.

  Twyla pressed both hands to her forehead and groaned. Leaning closer, she hissed, “It’s the 1920s, women can curse, they can drink, too, and have sex without worrying about getting pregnant.”

  Norma Rose was utterly speechless. She couldn’t put any of her thoughts into words.

  Twisting her head, Twyla said, “Pull the damn thing out. I won’t feel a thing. My ear’s been numb for an hour.”

  “Then why were you crying when I walked in?”

  “Because I’m so frustrated with my life,” Twyla said.

  “Because you weren’t allowed to go to the amusement park and sell kisses with Mitsy?”

  “Exactly! I’m twenty-three years old and my only friend, the only girl I’m allowed to visit, is an eighteen-year-old brat. Even though I live at the largest speakeasy in the country, the only excitement I get is going to the amusement park to sell kisses out the back side of the cotton candy booth for a dime.” She leaned closer. “Now pull the damn needle out.”

  Knowing she couldn’t grasp it with her gloves on, Norma Rose took them off and pinched the needle with one hand and held Twyla’s ear with the other. “Hold still.”

  “I am.”

  At first it was slow going, but then the needle began to move. With gentle but steady force, Norma Rose pulled it all the way out and, not knowing what to do with it, handed it to Twyla.

  “Thanks.” After taking the needle, Twyla asked, “Why are your hands blue?”

  “An ink pen broke.”

  “There’s bleach in the laundry room.” Twyla walked across the room and dropped the needle on her vanity table.

  Norma Rose pulled her gloves back on, and was reminded of all that had already happened today. “Why today?” She hadn’t meant to say it aloud, but when Twyla spun around, she repeated it. “Why today? Why are you telling me all this today?”

  “I don’t know,” Twyla said, walking back to the bed. “Maybe because of Brock.”

  “Brock?”

  “Yes. He knows what he wants and he even went against our father to make it happen. Josie and Ginger and I talked about that. How brave Brock had to be to do that, to go to Chicago.”

  Norma Rose had thought the same thing. Originally she’d thought that her father would be able to convince Brock to stay and play at the resort for the rest of the summer, considering the debt Brock’s family owed. That’s why she’d only suggested to Wayne Sears that he might be needed to perform at the resort tonight.

  “I don’t like acting like this, Norma Rose,” Twyla said. “Like a spoiled child, but every time I’ve gone to you or Father with an idea of how I could help out, you’ve shooed me away like I was thirteen. I’m not, and I’ve got to tell you, if it wasn’t for the watchmen guarding this place twenty-four hours a day, I’d have run away a long time ago.”

  Norma Rose’s heart did a complete somersault. She’d assumed as much, and had told Twyla more than once that if she didn’t work at the resort, there would be no money for clothes, or cosmetics, or even food. “You would have?”

  Twyla nodded. “Yes, I would have. And if something doesn’t change soon, I still might. Money or no money.”

  Norma Rose swallowed the lump in her throat. “That’s why you couldn’t find Ginger this morning. She ran away last night.”

  “No!”

  “Yes.”

  Chapter Nine

  Norma Rose was in the front lobby, showing Twyla how to write out receipts, explaining why it was so important that every person entering the ballroom purchased a meal, whether they ate it or not, when they noticed the sheriff’s car pull in.

  “What’s going to happen?” Twyla asked.

  “I don’t know. Father just had me call him to tell him he wanted to talk about something. No one has said anything about Ginger being missing.”

  “He’s not going to find her,” Twyla said.

  Norma Rose didn’t answer and turned to meet Sheriff Ned Withers, a tall man without a single strand of hair on his head, at the front door.

  “Thank you for coming so quickly, Sheriff,” she said. “My father is in his office. This way.”

  “Norma Rose,” he said, and then nodded toward her sister. “Twyla.”

  “Hello, Sheriff,” Twyla answered, before bowing her head, grinning.

  Norma Rose grinned, too. The sheriff was a man of few words until he got a few glasses of something under his belt, then you couldn’t shut him up. The entire county stayed clear of him after he’d been drinking, but no one made mention of it during the day. Knocking before pulling open her father’s office door, Norma Rose said, “The sheriff is here.”

  “Ned, come in,” her father said. “I want you to meet Ty Bradshaw.”

  Ty rose from the chair. “Hello,” he said, extending a hand.

  Once he’d shaken the sheriff’s hand, Ty’s gaze shot to Norma Rose. She knew he was curious about Twyla and why she’d been told about Ginger’s disappearance, but Norma Rose hadn’t had a chance to explain it yet. She wasn’t exactly sure why she wanted to, or what had really happened upstairs between her and her sister. It was a nice change, though, and she planned on talking to Josie as soon as she arrived home from her ladies aid meeting. It was time they all started working together instead of against one another.

  “Rosie?”

  She turned to her father.

  “The door,” he said.

  With a nod, she closed the door, with the men inside and her outside. That didn’t bother her quite as much as it would have this morning. The phone on the front desk jingled and she quickly crossed the room to pick it up. She’d called Wayne Sears and he said he’d be there by eight. If he was canceling, she didn’t have a backup plan.

  “Nightingale’s,” she said into the receiver.

  “Is Roger Nightingale there?”

  Thankful it wasn’t Wayne, she replied, “Yes, he is, but he can’t talk right now.”

  “Norma Rose, this is Brock Ness.”

  “Oh, Brock,” she said, now recognizing his voice. “I’m sorry, but Daddy is talking with the sheriff.” Wondering if he might have seen something, she revealed, “Ginger ran away last night and we can’t find her anywhere.”

  “I know,” he answered. “She stowed away in the back of my truck.”

  Her heart leaped into her throat. “What?” That was unbelievable in too many ways to count. “She’s with you? In Chicago? Is she all right?”

  “She’s fine,” he answered. “I’ll—”

  “Where are you? I’ll have Daddy call you right away.”

  He told her and she in
stantly recognized the name of the radio station that had offered Brock the contract and hung up without even saying goodbye. Hopefully her father hadn’t said anything to the sheriff yet. No one wanted Ginger’s name rolling through the police stations.

  “She’s with Brock?” Twyla asked.

  “Yes,” Norma Rose answered, as she turned and hurried to their father’s office. Without knocking, she rushed straight to her father’s side. Kneeling down, she whispered in his ear. “Ginger’s with Brock in Chicago.”

  He jerked his head back. “What?”

  She nodded.

  “Excuse me, Sheriff, something has come up that I need to deal with immediately,” her father said, standing up. “I just wanted you to meet Ty here. He’s one of my newest men. One I know you’ll treat as well as the others.”

  Sheriff Withers didn’t look at all surprised and replaced his hat on his head as he stood. “You know I will, Roger.” He shook Ty’s hand. “Nice meeting you, Mr. Bradshaw.”

  “Call me Ty, Sheriff, and it was nice meeting you, too,” Ty said.

  “Twyla will see you out,” Norma Rose said, nodding to Twyla, who was now standing in the doorway. Both her father and Ty looked at her quizzically, but she simply smiled.

  Twyla closed the door behind the sheriff and her father instantly asked, “Ginger’s with Brock?”

  “Yes, he said she’d stowed away in the back of his truck.”

  Her father cursed, several times, before he grabbed the phone. “What’s the name of that station?”

  She told him and walked around the desk to where Ty stood. She’d sworn Ginger wouldn’t be with Brock and now would have to accept being told she’d been wrong.

  “Well, that explains how she got away from the resort,” he whispered, while her father shouted to be connected to the station in Chicago. “Bronco said he’d checked under the tarp after Scooter had tied it down, but then he’d helped a guest to their cabin. She must have used that time to climb under the tarp because moments later your father talked to Brock, at his truck, and confirmed Brock was alone in the front seat.”

  “How do you know all that?”

  “Your father and I talked to both of them after you and I got back this afternoon. He wasn’t impressed to learn about the ladder Reyes had left at her window.”