“Well, Aunt Marg doesn’t drive, and neither do I, so someone must. He told me the two of you were friends when we were children. He remembered you with fondness.”
“How funny. I don’t remember him at all.”
Of course not, because in Felix’s eyes, someone like Beckett was unimportant. A mere servant. But wasn’t I just as judgmental and suspicious of Beckett at first? I stand, my knees wobbling. I feel rumpled, out of sorts, every movement like treading water. “You should come say goodbye to Aunt Marg before you leave.”
They follow me into the library, where Marguerite and Harriet are sitting. Harriet’s knitting needles click steadily as Aunt Marg dozes, her head tilted back against the leather chesterfield. My eyes drift toward the scarlet-bound book that hides the lever to the door to the room where my lover waits for me.
If only Felix and Rosalie wouldleave.
I clear my throat. Marguerite startles awake, eyes flashing. “What—what’s the matter?”
“Nothing at all. Felix and Rosalie were just leaving. They wanted to come say goodbye.”
Felix goes to Marguerite’s side, taking her hand. “It was nice to see you again, Auntie. So sorry to rush off. Now that Sadie’s here, I’ll be visiting more often. We should have a chat about a few things the next time I come.”
“What sort of things, Duke?”
“Felix.” He scratches his head, flummoxed by Marguerite’s confusion. “Oh, it’s nothing important. We can save it for another day.”
I clear my throat again. “Yes, you most certainlycansave it for later, Felix. I’ll fetch Beckett, have him bring the car around. He won’t mind driving you to the hotel.” They need to go. The sooner the better—before Felix starts going through cupboards and drawers. My brother hasn’t always been greedy. He went into law because he wanted to help people, like Da did. He grew up in Hell’s Half Acre and often represented the underprivileged pro bono. Due to the charity of Father Bernard Donnelly, Da was able to get an education and raise himself out of poverty, but he never forgot where he came from. Felix wanted to be just like him. Now, though, Felix is nothing more than a grifter, bent on opportunity and profit, driven by his wife’s gluttonous ambitions.He took Mama’s property out from under my nose, slick as an eel. And now he wants this house. I’ll need to find that deed and a local attorney who can fix things in such a way that there’s no question to whom this house belongs after Marguerite is gone.
Rosalie bends to kiss Marguerite on the cheek, and Marguerite draws back. “Who are you again, dear?”
“Rosalie, ma’am.”
“That’s right. Your father is a plumber, isn’t he? I sat next to him at your wedding supper.”
“Yes,” Rosalie says, her features pinching as if she’s sucked on a lemon. “He was. He’s retired now.”
“There’s nothing wrong with making a living in the trades, dear. Plumbers are vital. You shouldn’t be ashamed of him.”
“Of course not,” Rosalie says. She latches onto Felix’s arm, her chin high. “We should be going, darling, shouldn’t we?”
I trail them to the front door. Beckett already has the Duesenberg parked in the circle drive, polishing the fenders with a chamois cloth. He glances up at me. “Could you please take my brother and Rosalie to the Crescent?” I ask. My head swims as I grip the banister, easing myself slowly down the steps.
“Sadie, are you all right?” Beckett asks. “You’re pale as a ghost.”
Suddenly, everything feels too warm and cold all at once. “I’m fi—”
But I’m not fine. At all. Beckett rushes forward to catch me as the ground tilts to meet me.
The bespectacled doctor lifts my wrist, taking my pulse, Harriet hovering behind his shoulder. “Dehydration. Common enough with this heat. Steady pulse. Pressure 150 over 85. A little high, but that’s due to the dehydration.”
I sit up, my head swimming. “I’m all right. I just need something to drink.”
“Shall I get her some orange juice, Dr. Gallagher?”
“Yes, Harriet. Good thinking. She’s probably hypoglycemic.”
Harriet brings the glass to me quickly, pressing it into my hand. A memory washes through me, of someone handing me a glass of whiskey after I found Da, long ago. I close my eyes, letting the sweetness of the cold juice linger on my tongue. It’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted.
“Have you had anything to eat today, Sadie?” Beckett rumbles from behind me.
“Just a tea cookie. With Felix and Rosalie.”
I look around for my brother and his wife, but they’re gone. Outside the library windows, the sky has turned a murky, violet dark, our images reflected in the glass, like actors on a lit stage.
“Where’s Marguerite?”
