Now she had Archer’s attention. “What condition is that?”
“Rudeness. It seems to be catching. Maybe you ought to go home and sleep it off.”
Ivy’s feisty spirit drew a smile to Elsa’s lips. “All right. We don’t have to all do the same thing. Why don’t we part ways for the night? You and Percy can do all the rides you want and take the Rolls back afterward. Ivy and I will be fine on our own. We don’t even mind taking public transit home.”
Ivy nodded her agreement. “That sounds great.”
Archer looked at Percy, and for a moment, Elsa thought he might push back about the idea of two unchaperoned young women in one of the busiest places in New York, especially during the last weekend of the season, with a subway ride ahead of them that would take at least ninety minutes including the transfers between lines. Darkness was already falling, though it was hardly noticeable with the lights blazing in Luna Park.
He didn’t bring up any of that. He only looked at his watch and grinned.
“See you Monday, Archer.” Elsa turned away, happy to spend time with Ivy alone instead. At least, as alone as they could be in this crowd of thousands.
Together, they crossed the street to stand in line for the Incubator Babies.
“Elsa? I thought that was you.” Wesley Spalding caught up to her, and she made the introductions.
“Is your family with you?” she asked.
“Father is over there, working.” He gestured down the street.
“He’s working at the Circus Show?” Elsa asked.
“Yes, for the eugenics office. He really should have finished up before the last weekend of the season, but he’s been preoccupied with Aunt Birdie’s estate. He interviews the show people to get their family histories. You know, to see what led to their defects, so he can harp on how society cannot let this happen again. He even gets samples of their hair for the ERO.”
The line moved forward. “And does he want to interview the parents of prematurely born babies for the same purpose?” Ivy asked.
“He tried, but Dr. Couney, the man in charge of this place, doesn’t reveal the parents’ identities.” Wesley paused, jingling the coins in his pocket. “Aunt Birdie loved this place. In fact, before Uncle Linus died and his creditors came after her for his debts, she gave a huge Christmas donation to Dr. Couney for his Incubator Babies, and she did it in my father’s name. You should have seen him when he found out. He was so mad, he was fit to blow a gasket.” Wesley laughed. “Father’s view has always been that the weaklings should be allowed to die. Natural selection and all that. He says that even if they did grow up, they would only reproduce more weaklings and lower the quality of the gene pool.”
Elsa stiffened. “Do you agree?”
“Are you kidding me?” Wesley laughed again. “I barely agree with my father on anything. In fact, sometimes I’ll take the opposite position, simply to defy him. Mother calls that diabolical, and maybe she’s right. But if you had grown up with his hatred of weakness, as I have, you’d understand. He calls me weak for loving music even when it doesn’t pay the bills. He’s a machine, I tell you. He can admire a great musician’s precision but has noappreciation for the emotion music is meant to evoke. I’ll never forget the first time music moved me to tears. He—” Wesley’s jaw clamped shut. “I’d better not get started on that score.”
The line progressed again. Only ten or so more people stood between them and the entrance. “I’m sorry to hear that,” Elsa told him.
“Yeah. Listen, I don’t want to interrupt your evening, you two, so I’ll get going. Elsa, I’m sorry you had to witness that family scene in the parlor yesterday.”
“Never mind that,” she said. “See you next week, if you’ll be going back to Elmhurst.”
“I will. I can’t stay away from the piano, and the movers won’t be picking it up for days.” With a smile, he left them.
As Elsa watched him disappear into the teeming throng, she noticed one man across the street not moving. He was taller than the average man, made even taller by a brown bowler. He was staring directly at her.
A stilt-walker passed between them, and then the man in the bowler was gone.
Ten minutes after she and Ivy had entered the Incubator Babies building, Elsa was satisfied that the man had not followed them inside. Relaxing, she allowed herself to focus on the tiny miracles before her. The incubators were like metal ice boxes on stilts, except for the double doors made of glass. Each one held an impossibly small human life.
Nurses bustled between incubators. One approached Elsa and Ivy with a smile, then removed her wedding ring, opened the doors to the incubator, and slipped the ring over the infant’s arm and back again to prove how small he was. Then, since the baby was too tiny to swallow, she used a special spoon to drip nourishment into each nostril.
“He will live,” the nurse said with a smile. “He’s a fighter. He has gained five ounces already.”
No wonder Birdie loved this place. Birdie saw value and dignity where others didn’t. Elsa could also imagine Mr. Spalding turning up his nose at these vulnerable little ones.
By the time they finished walking through the building, Elsa was ready for the hot dog she promised Ivy she’d eat. This time they walked the few blocks between Luna Park and Nathan’s Famous, and Elsa was grateful to sit at one of the concrete tables while Ivy stood in line for her.
Seeing those tiny babies fighting to live had strengthened Elsa’s resolve to fight, too. Not just for her own health and well-being, but for Danielle’s, as well, at least as far as she had anything to do with it.
But that was the problem. Whatdidshe have to do with it? The nurses and Dr. Couney knew exactly what to do to give the babies their best chance at life, but Elsa remained at a loss. The aviary may never be found, and Tatiana and Danielle needed a new place to live and work in a matter of weeks. It wasn’t Elsa’s job to solve all of this, but if she didn’t, who would?
