Mick? Alma’s eyes widened at the slur. She couldn’t believe John would use it with one of his colleagues. She glanced at Jeremy, who had balled his hands into fists in his lap.
“Of course,” Jeremy said, looking vaguely ahead at two rows down filled with a group of nurses, clearly not wanting to meet John’s eye.
“Well,” John said, “these are for you.” He handed Alma a bouquet of mixed flowers that looked like they’d seen better days.
“Oh, thank you.” She looked down at them guiltily, and yet she felt as if she was going to be sick.
Jeremy leapt to his feet. “I’ll find another seat. I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s all right, Jeremy,” Alma said. “We’re just discussing work, John, and we are not yet married, so you don’t need to worry about my friends. We were just talking.” She knew she had been rude—and Mama would have been furious—but she felt a surge of pride for speaking up for herself. This man had no right of command over her in her conversations or friendships. Not yet.
“Mr. Kerrigan is a gentleman, I assure you,” she went on. “Please do sit down, Jeremy.”
John’s brow shot up at her use of the interpreter’s Christian name. “I’ll allow this for now,” he barked. “But I hope I’ve made myself clear.”
Jeremy nodded. “Of course, sir.”
John stalked to the steps and climbed them to the upper deck.
Alma cleared her throat. “I’m sorry, I… That was… I don’t know what to say.”
Jeremy’s teasing tone all but disappeared. “Don’t apologize. The fault is mine. Really, I should have insisted he sit here with you.”
They sat in silence the remainder of the ferry ride and disembarked quickly when they arrived. As they filed inside the building, Alma touched his shoulder. “Perhaps we could sit together at lunch one day. I’d really like to learn more about your job.”
Jeremy looked past her and tipped his hat. Lightly, he said, “Sure. One day soon, Miss Brauer.”
Dismayed by his formality and change in demeanor, she felt her mood plummet once again.
*
Alma went through the motions of her day, but something was different; she noticed it almost immediately. Though the staff should have been going about their work as usual, they paused to whisper or scan each room furtively as if looking for something—or someone. Everyone skittered to and from their stations, on edge, their faces drawn.
In the hospital ward, Alma looked for some direction, but instead, the nurses clustered in circles, talking about something more interesting than their patients. They didn’t share the news with her, and by lunchtime, her curiosity got the better of her. She found Helene in the cafeteria and sat beside her.
“The nurses were acting strange all morning,” Alma said, scooping a piece of potato into her mouth. “Have you heard anything?”
Helene didn’t hide her glee at being asked for information. “Well,” she said, her pretty face alight, “Williams is at it again, but this time it’s bad.”
“What do you mean?”
“You know the money exchange booth? The company that’s running it has been shortchanging immigrants.” She leaned in closer. “And! The broker that works with the food supplier for the cafeteria was extorting immigrants by setting higher prices. Williams fired both!”
Alma’s mouth dropped open. So her instincts were right. The vendor she’d seen shortchange a man and call it an accident was swindling people.
Helene’s brown eyes glittered. “And you heard about that Lutheran minister funneling women through his ‘church’ to help them find jobs a couple of weeks ago? Williams said that was just the beginning. To think! So much is happening right under our noses.”
Alma cradled her coffee cup, staring deeply into the brew. “What happened with the German immigrant last week that everyone is talking about? He was denied entry into the country. I think he was a pastor?”
“I’m not sure why he was denied,” she replied, “but I heard he didn’t have enough money to support himself.” Helene continued without pausing for breath. “Of course, now John and the other Germans on the staff are furious with Williams. It could spark another investigation from Washington.”
“Another one?” Alma put down her coffee cup. “How many have there been?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Several since the center opened ten years ago. It always happens after some journalist gets a bee in their bonnet over a story they’ve heard. I’m sure it’s because of some anarchist mess. The pastor is friends with some of them or something. I’m not sure.”
The anarchist mess in which Fritz was involved. Alma had to warn him. Again. One day, there wouldn’t be any more warnings, only consequences.
“But Williams is critical of everyone,” Alma replied, her mind racing. If there was an investigation here at the center, everyone would be scrutinized, including her. Omitting the truth of what she’d seen might be as indefensible as the rest. If Mrs. Keller turned the blame on her staff to cover her tracks, many would be at risk. Fear prickled over Alma’s skin. It wasn’t merely Keller and Williams looking into things this time. It must be a directive from Washington, DC, from President Roosevelt himself.
“It’ll mean hell around here for us,” Helene said, an edge to her voice. “We’ll have to work longer hours, make sure the place is spotless. Pretend it isn’t overcrowded, and ignore the government looking over our shoulder every minute of every day.”
Alma put down her fork. “Do you think we should report anything we’ve seen to Williams?”
Helene shrugged. “I’m not telling him anything.”
They ate their meals a moment, each lost in their thoughts until Helene broke the silence. “Listen, I need to tell you something,” she said. “I’ve been debating whether or not I should, but we’re friends, and if you don’t hear it from me, I don’t think you’ll hear it from anyone else.”
Her stomach dipped at Helene’s tone. She’d never sounded so serious. “What is it?”
Helene put down her fork. “It’s about John Lambert. If you want to hear it, that is.”
“Oh, yes, of course.”
Helene bit her bottom lip. “I don’t know how to say this, so I guess it’s best to come out with it.”
“You’re making me nervous!”
“I know. I’m sorry, it’s just awkward. The truth is, John has a bit of a reputation. I told you once before that he’s only good to the staff that are among his friends, but there’s more.”
Alma remembered the way he’d spoken to Jeremy and cringed. But that had been the only instance she’d ever seen him be rude to anyone, and she could see John’s side in that situation. He’d witnessed his fiancée talking animatedly with another man, but given Helene’s serious tone, there must be more.
She pushed her plate aside, her appetite vanishing. “All right. What is it?”
“He’s, well, he’s a ladies’ man, I guess you could say.”