Me. He’s there for me. “Please.”
I catch myself standing with weight on my supposedly hurt leg. Fortunately, Robbie is still in the kitchen, his back to me.
“Hi.” Mariano’s voice has a tenderness to it.
“I tried your apartment first, but you weren’t there.”
“No, I came here after work. Joyce said you were out with Emma, but would be back before too long.”
“Yes, that was the plan.” I swallow and try to infuse hysteria into my voice. “But then Mae and her sister went off with these terrible johnnies, and I refused to go with them.”
“Piper . . . what’s going on? Who are you with? You’re not in the North again, are you?”
I swallow. Um . . . “But fortunately I bumped into someone. You know my good friend Miss Crane?”
“The longer you talk, the more nervous I get.”
“Well, her boyfriend happened to be on his way to work—”
“I bet.”
“—and when he found me limping, he was good enough to bring me up to his apartment so I could ring for someone to come pick me up.”
“I thought you had a car with you. That’s what Joyce said.”
“I know, wasn’t it fortunate? Downright providential, I say.”
“Good grief, Piper. So you need me to come get you?”
“Quickly please. He needs to get to work, but he’s being a gentleman and insisting he wait with me until someone comes.”
“You still have the car though, correct?”
“Yes, I do.” I pull the mouth piece away from my mouth. “Robbie, what’s your street address please? My friend is on his way to come get me.”
“703 W. Schubert. Right on the corner of Orchard. We can wait downstairs, if he likes.”
“Mariano, the address is 703 W. Schubert, and we’ll be waiting in the lobby.” There’s silence on the other end. “Mariano?”
“What are you thinking, Piper Sail?” Mariano’s voice is coarse. “Do you realize where you are?”
My laugh rings hollow. “It’s not like I planned this, Mariano.”
“That’s the same block Patrick Finnegan lives on. If they were to realize who you are . . . I’m coming. I’m coming now. Just stay there.”
The line goes silent. I swallow hard. “I know it’s an inconvenience, but I do so appreciate it. Thank you. Good-bye.”
The Finnegans. Yet again.
“So your friend is on his way?”
“Yes.” I make myself smile at Robbie. Is he associated with them? “Thank you so much for your hospitality, Robbie.”
Together, we walk and fake-hobble down to the front door to wait for Mariano. I’m dying to check the Ford for Emma, but it’s parked just out of view.
My gaze drifts to where I know Robbie’s gun is holstered. All of this cannot possibly be a coincidence, can it? His secrecy about his job, the unmarked door from earlier, where he lives, and that he carries a gun?
I have to stop dwelling on it, or I’ll be too nervous for the rest of our time together. That certainly won’t help Emma and me get answers. “If you need to go to work, I’m sure my friend will be here soon.”
“It’s no trouble.” But he’s jingling the change in his pocket.
“I’m so thankful to know my friend is seeing someone kind-hearted like you.”
Robbie’s smile goes soft, and it stirs something in my heart. I want him to be a good guy. I’m not exactly sure when I decided I like Emma Crane, but I do.
“When you’ve moved around as much as I have, there’s always a question of how long it’ll take for the new place to feel like home. When I met Emma, Chicago finally felt like home.”
“She’s the best sort of girl.”
Robbie ducks his head and smiles at his shoes. “I still can’t believe she’d be interested in someone old like me.”
Why thank you, Mr. Thomas, for opening up that window of opportunity. “You’re hardly old, Robbie. Surely no more than twenty-five.”
“Somewhere in there, yes.”
“And lots of girls like the idea of finding a man who’s already settled in a profession. What is it you do again?”
“I work for the railroad.”
“How long have you done that?”
“A few years.”
I gesture to the briefcase resting by the front door. “Do you always work in the evening?”
His smile is no longer the bashful variety, but rather the kind a person wears when making polite conversation. “Trains run at all hours of the day, unfortunately.”
“What exactly do you do for them?”
“Oh, I’ve done all kinds of things. I’m sure you’re not interested in the details of my work.”
“You might be surprised. Trains have always interested me.”
“Me too. Their power is incredible, the way the ground trembles when they pass. It’s fascinated me from the time I was a child.”
He goes on to talk about how his father was a railroad man, spinning a story both interesting and vague. The man certainly knows what he’s doing, knows how to cover up that he’s revealing nothing.