“I’m serious,” he interrupted. “You have an honest way of approaching people that makes them like you and tell you what we need to know.”
She laughed. “Honest?Me?”
“Yes, you,” he retorted. “I’ve seen you play brash and rollicking and respectable and seductive, but they’re all you. Justdifferent bits of you. So yes, youarehonest, and still do your job.”
Janey didn’t know what to say, so she was glad they were approaching the workshop. On the other hand, while she liked his compliments, they’d turned her steady wellbeing into unease. The truths she didn’t want him to know weighed her down, making each step heavier.
He unlocked the unassuming door with the wooden sign that said only,Knox, Carpenter,and stood aside to let her in.
She liked the smell of the workshop, all new wood and varnish. It wasn’t a large room, containing only a workbench, a shelf for tools, a stove, and three stools.
“I’ll get the tea,” she said.
But he pushed her gently toward the stools. “Sit. I’ll get it.”
She shrugged and let him. And truly, it was sweet to take the weight off her poor feet. Sweeter yet to watch him light the stove beneath the kettle and set about spooning tea into the chipped pot and fetching two clean mugs from the shelf. He sliced some bread and cheese while waiting for the kettle to boil. His hands were quick and deft—strong, clever artisan’s hands.
“Got no milk,” he said apologetically.
“Don’t need it,” she said at once, watching him with a growing sense of desperation as he sliced bread and cheese and put it on a plate.
Honest. He thinks I’m honest. As long as he didn’t know about her, he could be her friend. But not a close friend. Because she would always be waiting for him to find out, wouldn’t she? And though it was novel and lovely to be admired, it wasn’t real if he didn’t know the truth. More than that, hedeservedthe truth.
“Honesty’s not the reason I can talk to those people,” she blurted. “The thieves and the pimps and the whores, the men who’d knife their own mothers for the price of a pint. I’m one ofthem, ain’t I? That’s where I come from. That’s where Constance found me. They know me.”
The kettle was boiling. He used a rag to lift it and pour the water into the teapot. He set the kettle down and put the lid on the pot, then picked up the plate of bread and cheese and came toward her.
“I know. Help yourself.” He put the plate on one of the empty stools.
Her jaw must have dropped, for she had to close her mouth to swallow. “What do you think you know?” she demanded aggressively. “I ain’t some poor bloody innocent rescued from noble starvation. I got sick on the streets selling myself to men, including the scum of the earth. I weren’t fussy. That’s where she found me.”
He swirled the tea in the pot. Interestingly, he had a strainer, like the ones Constance used, to pour the tea into the mugs without the leaves. His poor, dead wife must have taught him that.
He brought both mugs, balanced them on the crowded stool, and sat on the other. “I’m sorry.”
“Why?” she asked. “It ain’t your fault.”
He shrugged. “Not yours either, Janey. Everyone tries to survive. You and me, we’re the lucky ones. I forgot that for a while.”
He had been a mess when they first met, only half alive from shock and grief. Her reasonless anger vanished as quickly as it had sprung up.
“You helped me remember,” he said unexpectedly. “Saved me, if you like.”
She stared at him. “Mr. Grey did that.”
Lenny nodded. “He gave me a chance. Him and Mrs. Grey. And Mrs. Juliet. You helped me take those chances. Because you took yours, and you sawme, not some pitiful wreck who’d losteverything.” He gave a quick, awkward smile. “I learned from your strength.”
She held his gaze with difficulty. “Don’t you care what I did?” she blurted.
“No.” He didn’t even think about it. “Drink your tea.”
Obediently, she lifted the cup to her mouth and drank, while her free hand reached for the bread and cheese. It seemed the sense of wellbeing had come back, for she smiled as she lowered the cup.
“Are you saying we’re friends, Lenny Knox?”
“Yes. That’s what I’m saying.”
She munched in contented silence for a while. Then she sighed. “I hope someone’s found a trace of that bastard Kenny.”
