The Gilded Hour

“Broken bones? Concussion?”


“Both, and worse,” Sophie said. “She was six months pregnant. Four children under ten at home, and a clueless father.”

“A familiar story,” Anna said. “And a sad one.”

Sophie lowered her gaze to send Anna a puzzled look. “Why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“You always assume dire things for large families.”

“I do no such thing.”

“Anna, I can give you a dozen examples without trying.”

As sleepy as Anna had been, she came awake at this unusual tone in her cousin’s voice. For a long moment they studied each other, and then Anna put her head back and blew out a breath that made the loose hair at her temple jump.

“I am cynical, it’s my nature. You’ve decided all of a sudden that you need to change me?”

Sophie leaned forward to take a peppermint drop from a candy dish. “I don’t want to change you.”

“What do you want to change?”

“Nothing. Everything.”

“No word from Cap, I take it.”

Sophie took her time unwrapping the peppermint. She tucked it into her cheek and then spread the small square of waxed paper out over her knee, smoothing the wrinkles.

“Something else then, if it isn’t Cap. Spit it out, Sophie, would you?”

“I am worried about Cap, but I also have to tell you about Sunday.”

“This coming Sunday?”

She shook her head. “Last Sunday. When you went to see Cap, I went to Brooklyn.”

Sophie watched Anna think this through and saw when the realization hit her.

“I had to do something, Anna. And there haven’t been any repercussions.”

Anna closed her eyes. “Yet.”

She could argue, but Sophie knew that nothing she could say would ease Anna’s worries. Instead she told her about the Reason family, about Weeksville and the cab ride and the fact that no one had asked her for medical advice, not even the new mother.

“You liked it there.”

“Yes,” Sophie said. “I did like it there.” This wasn’t a conversation they had ever had, really, for the simple reason that Anna didn’t see her as a woman of color. If she were to say It was good being among people like me, Anna would not take her meaning unless Sophie provided explicit detail, and then—what? Would she be surprised? Worried? Hurt? Anna’s generosity was bred in the bone, but she lived a narrow life and was often unaware of many things in her immediate surroundings.

“You’re not moving to Brooklyn.”

“Is that an order?”

Anna opened her eyes.

Sophie saw now that her cousin was very tired, and she regretted raising this topic. “No,” she said then. “This is my home. If I’m going anywhere it’s to Switzerland.”

“Let’s go find something to eat while we talk,” Anna said. “I have things to tell you too. I wish I didn’t.”

? ? ?

“OF COURSE WE have to take them to see him,” Sophie said. Her tone was matter-of-fact, no doubt or hesitation. When Anna started to get caught up in ambiguities, Sophie could be trusted to lead her out of the wilderness.

“You have reservations,” Sophie said.

Anna wrapped her hands around her teacup. “I do have some concerns. Thinking back now, would you have wanted someone to take you to see your father, at the end?”

Sophie didn’t answer that question. Instead she said, “The choice is whether we cause them pain now, or later.”

“I think knowing is better than not knowing,” Anna said.

“Well, then, we’re decided. Do we need special permission to take them to the island? Can the detective sergeant arrange it for us?”

“I mentioned the possibility to him. He said he could make arrangements. I think he’ll come too, if he can manage it,” Anna said. “Having someone there who speaks Italian is a good idea. If not Mezzanotte, then maybe Detective Sergeant Maroney might be willing.”

Sophie laughed. “You call him Mezzanotte? Why?”

Anna grimaced into her empty teacup and tried to construct an honest answer. “I suppose I’ve been trying to keep some distance.”

“And failing.”

“Oh, yes. Miserably.”

Sophie put a hand on Anna’s shoulder and squeezed but said nothing more. It was a kindness, and Anna managed a smile.





10


EARLY SATURDAY A note came from Jack, written on the police headquarters stationery: he had had word from the island. Carmine Russo had died the previous evening and would be buried at noon. If she wanted to attend with the little girls, he would arrange it. Detective Sergeant Maroney would call for them, take them to the burial, and then see them home. The message boy would wait for her answer.

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