“Let’s just hope that my future cases are more mundane.”
“Let’s just hope there are no future cases,” he said firmly. “Molly, I want you to give up this absurd idea right now. If you want a job, I can find you one that will challenge you and use your talents. The women’s trade union league could use someone fearless and articulate like you. You’d be doing a real service, Molly. Making a difference. What do you say?”
“It’s very tempting, Jacob. I will think about it.”
“Just promise me you’ll stop trying to be a detective.”
“But I’m not trying to be one,” I said as the realization came to me. “I am a detective. I’ve just concluded two cases satisfactorily. I’ll have earned two hundred dollars—not bad for a month’s work, wouldn’t you say?”
Jacob shook his head, but he was smiling. “Molly. What am I going to do with you? I don’t want to let you out of my sight for another moment.”
I turned away from him. “Jacob, I . . .”
“I’m sorry. That was stupid of me,” he said. “I promised I wouldn’t put you in a glass case, didn’t I? It’s because I care so much that I—”
“Jacob,” I interrupted and looked at him this time. “This talk of marriage makes me uneasy. There’s something you should know. I like you, Jacob. I admire you and respect you, but I’m not sure that I can love you.”
He looked down at his hands. “I see,” he said. “Cannot love be learned and grow over time? If our match had been arranged by the matchmaker, we wouldn’t even know each other before the ceremony, and yet many such marriages are truly happy ones.”
“I’m sure they are, but that would be a risk I wasn’t willing to take. I will only marry for love.”
There was another long pause.
“Is there someone else?”
“Yes, and no.”
“That policeman,” he said sharply. “The one who shouted at you.” He looked at me for confirmation and I nodded. “He shouted, as I did, because he’d been worried for you. Do you still love him?”
“I’m not sure, but I have experienced what love feels like, and I’m not ready to settle for less.”
“Then why did you not marry him?”
“Because he wasn’t free.”
“Ah,” he said quietly. “So are you’re trying to tell me that you don’t want to marry me?”
“I don’t know, Jacob. I really don’t know what I want. That’s the trouble. I want to be fair to you as well as fair to me, so that if I decide to marry you, it will be because you’re my true choice and not because I’m settling for second best. You do understand that, don’t you?”
“I understand.” He paused, staring past me out of the window. “And I commend you for it. You will let me continue to visit you so that I can woo you and sweep you off your feet?”
I laughed, making him smile too. “You do not need to woo me. You have nothing to prove to me. It is I who has to decide what I want from life and to shake off the ghosts of the past. But I look forward to continuing our friendship and seeing where it might lead us.”
His face lit up. “Then I am content.”
“Thank you. You are a very dear person.” I put my hand to his cheek and leaned forward to brush his lips with a kiss.
“I’ll have to get used to that beard, someday,” I said.
A week later a letter arrived from Ireland from Major Faversham.
Dear Miss Murphy,
I can’t tell you how relieved my wife and I were to receive the letter from you and from Katherine. To know she is alive and well and to discover that she is no longer married to that bounder has lifted our spirits considerably. Of course, we had hoped that she would return to us immediately, but she has promised that she will keep in touch with us via letters and may be coming home soon. Thank you for your splendid work. Enclosed please find a check for twenty-five guineas.
A little over a hundred dollars! I was on my way to becoming a successful woman. I ran across the street and burst into Sid and Gus’s house waving the envelope. I found them all at the kitchen table, enjoying the morning coffee and hot rolls ritual.
“A letter from your parents, Katherine. They were so thrilled to hear from you.” I stopped. A strange man was sitting at the kitchen table with his back to me. “Oh,” I said, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize you had company.”
The man rose to his feet and turned toward me. “Company, you call it? It is I, darling Molly, come home to the bosom of my loved ones.” And the dashing, irresponsible, loveable, infuriating Ryan O’Hare stood there, dressed in a black velvet jacket with a large diamond pin in his purple silk cravat.
“Ryan!” I ran to his arms. “How wonderful to see you. We have missed you so much. Have you finally brought the play to New York?”
“It is due to make its glorious opening at the Victoria Theater next week—don’t say anything about bad omen in the name. It was the one theater that was free and willing.”