“Nobody is serving him, Tetka,” Dani said, wondering why Pavel was being brought into the conversation.
“I would be happy to serve him.” Lenka smiled, cutting her poached egg into dainty pieces.
Margaret snickered, but Zuzana leveled her with a silencing frown.
“Poor Pavel,” Margaret said, clearing her throat. “What a valiant man. It’s a pity I never knew him. What was it that ailed him? I don’t think you’ve ever said.”
“The voices in his head,” Zuzana said. “Poor dear. He died in agony.”
Margaret gaped, wanting more information, but when Malone’s tread was heard on the stairs, she rushed to the kitchen to fill his plate, forgetting all about poor Pavel.
Lenka preened and Dani’s heart galloped in anticipation as Malone walked into the room, but she kept her greeting mild and her glance fleeting.
Unlike her, he had changed his clothes, and his hair was freshly slicked in dark waves, and his appearance drew more than a mere Good morning among the women. Margaret buzzed around him, and Lenka beamed at him with so much pleasure that Zuzana swatted at her with the newspaper. He accepted the brimming plate from Margaret with a soft thank-you. She blushed a cherry red, retied her apron, and bustled down the stairs humming Benny Goodman’s latest.
“We missed you at supper last night, Mr. Malone,” Lenka said as he took the seat next to Dani. “Daniela waited up for you for the longest time.”
“Lenka,” Dani reproached, shaking her head. “I did not.”
Malone swallowed and shot a look at Dani. “Yes. Well. Duty called.”
“We are a family in mourning today, Mr. Malone,” Zuzana said. “I would ask that you be mindful of that.”
“We are?” Dani asked, frowning.
“Yes. We are,” Zuzana huffed. “You were late to breakfast as well, Daniela, and missed our brief memorial. Today marks fifteen years since Pavel passed away. April ninth is a very hard day for us.”
Dani said nothing. She had known her grandfather very little. He’d passed away only months after her parents died, and her aunts had never made a fuss on the anniversary of his death before. She suspected it was simply an opportunity for her aunt to make Malone uncomfortable.
“Pavel?” Malone asked.
“Pavel Kos. My grandfather. Their younger brother,” Dani provided.
“Ahh. I see.” He inclined his head to the aunts. “My condolences to you all.”
“He had the Kos curse, I fear. And did not tolerate it well,” Zuzana said, frank. “It was a mercy that he was taken. But we still grieve him.”
“Zuzana!” Lenka gasped.
Malone looked from one old woman to the next. “‘The Kos curse’?”
“He had a feel for the cloth,” Lenka rushed to explain. “He also had a stroke. I doubt the two were related.”
“He was stark raving mad. And it does no good for any of us to pretend he wasn’t,” Zuzana said, face blank, but her eyes were bright with troublemaking.
Dani felt the color drain from her face and embarrassment bubble in her chest.
“Mr. Malone?” Margaret called up the stairs. “You are wanted on the telephone. Shall I take a message?”
Malone was no fool. He pushed back from the table, leaving his half-eaten breakfast, and excused himself with obvious relief and hurried down the stairs.
“I’ll take it, Margaret. Thank you,” he called.
“What are you up to, Zuzana?” Lenka hissed the moment Malone had descended the stairs.
“I don’t know what you mean, sister,” Zuzana retorted, blotting her lips with her napkin. But she didn’t look at Dani.
“‘The Kos curse’? Do you want Mr. Malone to be afraid of Daniela?” Lenka asked, flabbergasted.
“It is only . . . right . . . that he know what he is getting into. I have not said anything that is not true. Daniela is a Kos. She suffers from the same ailment as Pavel did. Mr. Malone should be aware.”
“What do you mean, Tetka?” Dani whispered. She thought she might be sick.
“You know what I mean. Don’t look at me like that,” Zuzana snapped. “You are taken with Mr. Malone. You are besotted. It is plain to see. Just like your mother was taken with George Flanagan. She ran off. So might you. And Lenka, fool that she is, has been encouraging you. Don’t think I don’t know these things.” She tapped her temple and lifted her chin, haughty. But her mouth trembled, giving her away.
“That was cruel, Zuzana,” Lenka said, shaking her head. “You are many things. But I didn’t think you were cruel.”
Zuzana sniffed, dismissive, but she didn’t deny it.
“So you mean to scare him away from me?” Dani asked quietly. “Make him think I am mad, so he doesn’t want me? Is that it?”
“Yes. Better he go than we lose you.” The trembling in Zuzana’s lips spread to her chin.
“Oh, Zu,” Lenka cried, reproachful.
“I know it is selfish. But it is how I feel,” Zuzana confessed, finally meeting Dani’s gaze. “I fear he will take you away, dear girl.”
“I will not leave you, Tetka,” Dani said, her compassion welling in spite of her pique. It wasn’t like she didn’t know. Since Vera died, Zuzana’s fear and grief had begun to permeate her clothes and leave a trace on everything she touched.
Lenka tsked and threw up her hands. “Shame on you, Zuzana.”
“You are afraid too, Lenka. You just aren’t as forthright,” Zuzana shot back. “We are old, and we are alone, and we need Daniela.”
“Then you’d better put your mind to making Mr. Malone stay, you old fool. Daniela might forgive you if he leaves, but if you run him off, I never will.”
The call was from his boss, Elmer Irey, the director of the Treasury’s intelligence division. He wasn’t happy.
“What the hell is going on there? The big guy himself is breathing down my neck on this.”