“You coming out?”
Sadie’s voice cut through her thoughts, making Vivian realize that she was still standing in the doorway. As Bea had done—it wasn’t that long ago, was it?—she snagged a brick with her foot and used it to prop the door open before walking to where the other woman leaned against an alley wall, a lit cigarette in one hand as she stared up, the light flickering across her gold spangles, watching the smoke drift slowly away.
“Hey there, Vivian Kelly,” Sadie said, smiling grimly. There was no sign now of the shrinking wallflower from her first night at the Nightingale or the heavy-hearted daughter still mourning the loss of her family. “Come out for a smoke?”
She held out a cheap package of cigarettes. They were the same kind she had smoked in angry bursts that day at her kitchen table, the day Vivian had learned from Mrs. Henry that Sadie’s father had killed himself shortly after her younger sister disappeared.
Vivian drew in a sharp breath. Her dress had a little pocket sewn into the slit of one seam; she reached in and slowly pulled out the two cigarettes she had brought to show Honor—lumpy, poorly rolled things, she realized now, that a society girl like Myrtle would never touch.
Beats me where she got to, but less work for us,Bruiser George had said.
Hattie Wilson hadn’t been the one bringing a sister home from Chinatown.
“I think I already have a couple of yours,” Vivian said.
Sadie took a drag from the one in her hand, several emotions flickering across her face in quick succession before she met Vivian’s eyes. “Where’d you find those?”
“Someone dropped them in a pretty sad building on Baxter Street.”
“Huh.” Sadie turned to look up at the sky once more.
Vivian swallowed, her skin prickling all over. “Why’d your father kill himself, Sadie?”
Sadie blew out a stream of smoke. “He’d been skimming. Stupid thing to do, but he was desperate. Aren’t we all?” She laughed bitterly. “Wilson probably would’ve just had him bumped off to send a quick message, but he remembered Dad had two daughters. Turned out Elsie, all of fifteen years old, was just his type. He took her. Dad couldn’t handle the guilt.”
“Is she okay?”
Sadie looked at her then, her expression fierce with pain before she shrugged it away. “She will be. I hope. If you went to Baxter Street, you saw where he was keeping her.” She looked back at the sky. “You can guess what she went through. But she’s got a lot of life to get past it. And he’s not going to hurt her anymore.”
Vivian shivered at the offhand words and the depth of feeling they hid. She glanced again at the corner where Wilson had bled out, a single cigarette burning a hole through his pants as he sat in a puddle of his own filth and blood. There had been cigarettes on the ground then, too, she remembered. As if two people had come outside to smoke and talk before things got out of control. “Did you mean to kill him?”
“I honestly don’t know.” Sadie shrugged. “I followed him to three different places that night before I finally got him alone here. I told myself I only wanted to find my sister. But maybe I was lying. It doesn’t really matter. It’s not something I’ll ever regret.” She glanced at Vivian. “What’re you gonna do about it?”
“Does Honor know?” Vivian regretted the question as soon as it came out, and the pitying look in Sadie’s eyes made her face heat, though she was pretty sure there wasn’t enough light for her blush to be seen. She clenched her hands into fists, feeling sick and angry and confused. “Take care of your sister, Sadie. You’re lucky to have her back.”
“I am.” Sadie took another drag of her cigarette. “Thanks for your help, by the way.”
“My help?”
“Yeah.” Sadie’s smile was somehow both grateful and mocking. “I couldn’t have found her without you.”
Vivian’s chest tightened. Kicking the brick out of the way, she let the door swing shut behind her as she stalked back into the hallway and headed for the dance hall.
She ignored the blond girl smiling at her once more from the bar and the tall man with dark hair who sidled up and tried to coax her onto the floor again. Instead, she went straight for the corner table where Honor was staring into a glass of whiskey.
She looked up when Vivian arrived, her pensive expression sliding into surprise. Then those beautiful red lips turned up slowly at the corners.
“Vivian.” The relief in her voice was genuine. “I can’t tell you how glad I am to see you. Your sister’s okay?”
“Yes.” Vivian slid into the seat opposite her and leaned forward. Fifteen feet away, the trumpet wailed, cocooning them in sound. For a moment, it was just the two of them—no one else would be able to hear a word they said. Vivian leaned in close, until there were only inches between them. She could see Honor’s lips part, her brows rise in disbelief.
“Did you want something, pet?” she asked, her voice husky.
“I did,” Vivian said. She hesitated, her bottom lip catching between her teeth, before she took a deep breath and asked, “How long have you and Sadie Monaldo known each other?”
Up on the bandstand, the cymbals crashed, and a long run on the piano sent the dancers spinning happily across the floor. But in front of her, Honor grew still. After a moment she shook her head, her lips pursing with grim amusement. “Would you like a drink?”
“No. But I would like an answer.”
