“So then, Detective Sergeant. Order up a rainy Saturday, would you?”
Mrs. Cabot came to refill their coffee cups and Anna reminded herself to send Jack’s aunt Philomena a thank-you note for finding them the housekeeper. She had sent three; Mrs. Lee had interviewed them one by one and hired Eve Cabot, a Yankee of the first order, born and raised in Maine, an excellent housekeeper and cook. She moved into the bedroom off the kitchen with one suitcase, a pot of violets she put on the windowsill above the kitchen sink, and Skidder, a genial Jack Russell terrier who hung on every word she said.
Anna liked Mrs. Cabot for her dry humor, her refusal to be taken aback by the oddities of the household, and the easy way she was with the girls.
“Anna,” Jack said, and inclined his head toward the pocket watch he had put on the table.
She jumped up, kissed Jack’s cheek, gathered up her things, and rushed out, but not before Ned came in the kitchen door. He had had his breakfast under Mrs. Lee’s watchful eye, and now would allow Mrs. Cabot to feed him too. It made them happy, and he lived for nothing so much as pleasing the women who fed him.
Anna waved a hand over her head, meant for both hello and good-bye, and studiously ignored the question that followed her out the door. She was almost as far as the Cooper Union when Ned caught up with her, brushing bread crumbs from his shirt.
“I don’t have time to stop,” Anna said.
After a full minute of silence she realized why he was walking along with her, and what he was waiting for.
“You are a sincere and dedicated teacher,” she said to him. “And I pay your fees happily. But sometimes Italian can’t be the first thing on my list of priorities.”
She had stopped in spite of herself, and now set off again.
He said, “What’s going on with Staten Island?”
That made her pause again, but only momentarily. “What do you mean? Jack and I got married on Staten Island.”
“There’s something more,” he said. “I heard Margaret talking about it to Mrs. Lee.”
Anna had no intention of telling Ned about the Mullen family. They hadn’t even decided on how, or whether, to tell the girls. The inability to come to an agreement was starting to fray the nerves on all sides, but Margaret was having the hardest time.
Ned said, “Does it have something to do with the Russo boys?”
That did bring her up short. “What exactly did you hear?”
“Not much.” But he looked away.
“I will strangle Margaret,” Anna said, without heat. “In the meantime we need to keep Rosa especially clear of such conversations.”
“So it is about her brothers.”
Late as she was, Anna stopped to consider this young man who was fast being drawn into both households on Waverly Place, simply by making himself indispensable. He spent his afternoons working for the Howells at the newsboys’ lodging, but the rest of the day he was busy making himself welcome among the Savard and Mezzanotte clans. He was a favorite of Margaret, who loved having a young man to mother; of Aunt Quinlan, who liked his banter and quickness of mind; of Mr. Lee, because he was as tireless as a workhorse and would turn his hand to anything; of Mrs. Lee and Mrs. Cabot, who alternately fed and scolded, ordered around and spoiled him. He was polite but more formal with Chiara and Laura Lee when they were working in the house, probably, Anna thought, because he knew the danger of showing favoritism. Jack had had more than one private conversation with Ned to be sure he understood the boundaries, but Anna hadn’t asked for details.
Bambina was the only person he hadn’t won over. When she and Ned were in the same room she made a science of expressing her dislike and disapproval in such a way that it was hard to correct or admonish her. Even this didn’t seem to worry Ned. Just the opposite.
Jack thought Bambina was jealous because the girls were so enamored of him, and Mrs. Lee agreed. “Things come so easy to him. He only has to snap his fingers and the little girls let everything else drop. We’re going to have a talk, Mr. Baldy-Ned and me.”
Everyone was talking to Ned. Anna was as sure as she could be that he would behave himself. Now it seemed like the time had come to take him into closer confidence.
“Can I trust you to do what you can to keep the girls safe and calm?”
He nodded. “Of course.”
“Staten Island does have to do with one of the boys, but it’s a very delicate situation. Telling Rosa at this point would make things much more difficult, but we do need a plan. We can talk about that tonight once the girls are asleep. I’m trusting you to keep an eye on things until then.”
He gave a sharp bow from the shoulders, as neatly as a soldier. “I’ve got to get back. Bambina is coming over to hang some curtains, and you know how she looks forward to insulting me.”
Anna watched him run off, switched her Gladstone bag to her other hand, and picked up her pace.