“A friend, huh? That I have never seen before?” I rolled my eyes and made no secret of it.
“You don’t know everything about me,” she hissed, ripping the paper bag between her fingers.
“Clearly I do not!”
“What will you do then, Nellie? Will you tell Mads that I have a visitor at the store? That will not improve his condition.” She lifted her chin at me. Her eyes were very cold.
My anger subsided some and turned into a tired sense of hopelessness. She was right to ask; whatever would I do? More than anything else, I wanted to cry. Why was there never any peace around her? “This is utterly irresponsible,” I muttered. “What about Caroline?” I asked. “Is she even Mads’s child?”
She looked at me for a moment, still with her chin raised high. “No—and he knows it.”
My chest filled up with ache for him; the tears were closer than ever. “Is it his child then? Mr. Lee’s?”
She shrugged. “I do not believe that she is.”
“Mr. Gunness?” I could not think of any other.
She shook her head but did not reply. Whenever I tried to catch her eyes, her gaze just slid away.
“Whose is she, then?” I gave a deep sigh, feeling faint with exhaustion.
“She is mine,” Bella said with triumph in her voice. “That girl is only mine.” And that was the last she would say on the subject no matter how much I prodded and begged.
I found I had utterly failed in my mission: there was nothing I learned in the store that day that I could use to put Olga at ease. It cost me many sleepless nights, tossing and turning on the pillows. What was I to make of this? What was I to do? If word got out, Bella would be the harlot and poor Mads would be the fool. Yet when had she ever listened to me? She never took advice, thinking her own counsel always the best. What could I do but hope that it would pass? Telling Mads was not an option, not while he was so ill. It pained me to think that he knew he was not Caroline’s father, and I wondered if he had chosen to go along with it for the sake of a child, and if it caused him misery. Still, just the thought of asking him made me blush, and I knew that I would never do such a thing. I could of course ask my sister how her husband felt—but sometimes she lied, so there was no use.
What bothered me the most, though, was the careless way in which Bella had spoken of her affair—as if she felt no remorse at all, as if she did not even care that it was wrong.
It made me trust her less, and I could not help but wonder what other secrets my sister kept.
What she did when no one saw.
22.
Bella
Six months in and my wondrous store was not a wonder anymore. The competition was too steep. Mads was not the only man to think the road to a better future was paved with hard candy; Chicago was booming with confectionery stores. The coins in the secondhand cash register were fewer than I would have liked, and the store was not paying the expenses for its upkeep. The customers were not clamoring at our door, and the little bell above it was slowly gathering a sheen of dust.
I found that I had much preferred opening the store to running it. The days behind the counter felt long and useless. I kept skimming the glass jars, stuffing myself with butterscotch candy. Jennie, too, grew soft around the edges, puffed up like a cloud from all the treats. I had to keep a bottle of brandy in the back to help me get through the days. Having Mads around became so exhausting that I sent him back to bed, suffering from another bout of vomiting. He only came out to go to kiss little Caroline or eat his meager meals. Since we started taking in lodgers, it had been harder to see James at night, and I had thought that the store would be a perfect place for us to meet, but my sister and niece made it hard. Their disapproval wafted like sour smoke around me, and I soon regretted offering Olga that position, even if she helped me with the children.
The only true respite I had was those weeks when Peter Gunness stayed with us. I relished having that man at my table, with his fine looks and strong hands. What he lacked in conversation skills he certainly made up for with practical help. My house almost felt as new when he left, with no creaking doors, jammed windows, or smoking ovens—he had taken care of all that. It took weeks before the filth came creeping back again.
I thought that I could care for a man like him.
He never behaved indecently toward me, though, which certainly was a disappointment. I had figured myself so clever, sending Mads to bed just when Peter arrived home, but it turned out that it made no difference. Mr. Gunness was determined to stay faithful to his wife, no matter how well we got along. He even took pity on Mads and brought him newspapers and good cigars. It was aggravating, the decency in that man—and certainly not what I had planned for.
I had wanted to keep the confectionery store going for a year, to last until the expenses were all paid, but I soon realized that it cost too much. The store bled money in a steady stream, adding to our debts every day. I ought to wait, though; to avoid suspicion, I ought to make it thrive before I set it ablaze. No one would suspect arson if the store did well and the finances were in order. Before the store opened, while I constructed my plan, it had not even occurred to me that sales would be a problem.
Then an unwanted solution arrived, as a godsend from a fiery place.
I had grown attached to Caroline. I loved being the mother of this beautiful child, the way she depended upon me and closed her little hand around my fingers. I certainly did not ignore it when her body grew hot and her cheeks turned red with fever. I gave her drops to keep her calm and relieve some of the discomfort. I washed her little body with cold cloths and dripped laudanum and brandy into her milk, but the girl’s illness had deep roots, and she did not get any better. Perhaps she should have seen a doctor sooner, but I was too worried about his verdict. It was better to just tell myself that everything would be fine.
There was just so much in those days: the candy store and the finances, and everyone knows what it is like with sick infants; either the fever breaks or it does not.