“No,” Leo muttered, one cheek slouching in the palm of his hand as he glared at the leather-bound book. “Who does this fella think he is, Al Capone?”
That made Vivian laugh, though there wasn’t much humor in it. “God, let’s hope not. Put that away for now. I don’t want to risk anyone seeing it.” She smoothed a few strands of his hair back into place. “And get on the dance floor. People will start to wonder if they see you sitting around looking grumpy.”
Leo grumbled, but he tucked the notebook back inside his jacket. When she next spotted him, he was on the dance floor with a girl she didn’t recognize. And just beyond them, checking in with Benny, was Honor. Vivian hesitated, then made up her mind quickly. She wanted to know what Honor could tell her about Corny Rokesby and what he might have wanted that night.
She was halfway there when Honor caught sight of her. A moment before, her hands had been tucked in her pockets, her limbs loose and relaxed as she finished her chat with Benny and turned to survey the crowd. But as soon as her gaze fell on Vivian, she tensed.
Vivian took a step toward her. Honor turned and walked out of the room without looking back.
Vivian stared after her. Honor had every reason to be acting strange. Her father had just died. And she didn’t, in fact, owe Vivian anything—even if Vivian had hoped for more. Even if she wanted at least a few answers that she didn’t have to struggle for on her own.
Vivian turned back to the bar, trying not to let herself worry, and discovered that she wasn’t the only one struggling that night.
“Everything okay?” Danny asked her as he handed a drink to a man in a blue suit and paused for a breather.
“Swell,” Vivian said, not really paying attention to her answer. Instead, she looked him over, not liking what she saw. His usual friendly smile had been in place all night, and his hands moved as fast as always as he mixed drinks and managed people. But there were dark circles of fatigue under his eyes that weren’t usually there, and he sighed as he leaned against the bar, as if he were too tired to stay upright. “What about you, Danny-boy? Everything okay?”
“Swell,” he said, smiling as he echoed her. It was a tired smile, but Vivian was relieved to see that it was genuine. “Just been busy recently, between here and the restaurant and taking care of Florence.”
Vivian’s stomach twisted. “Anything I should worry about?”
He shook his head. “You’re the one who needs worrying about right now,” he said. “She’s just not feeling her best, is all. Can’t be on her feet too long without getting dizzy. But Ma says it’s all normal.” He smiled again. “And she promised us babies are worth it.”
Vivian laughed at that, but his words left a pinching ache in her chest that she couldn’t shake off. She trusted Danny, and Mrs. Chin would have pounced instantly if there was anything really worrisome with Florence’s pregnancy. But Florence washersister. They’d always taken care of each other, even if they’d glared and complained while they did it. They’d spent every day of their lives together until Danny swept Florence into a new life.
Vivian would see her. Soon. She just had a few things to take care of first.
“Anyway.” Danny rolled his shoulders to stretch them out as he stood upright once more. “You’ve been running your feet off, kitten, and Ellie just arrived. Take a break.”
“Thanks, boss,” Vivian said, sliding her tray onto the bar and taking one of the open stools. “Any chance of some bubbles while I do that?”
He rolled his eyes. “I’ll see if we have any bottles already open. I’m not opening a new one just for you.”
“How about you open one for me, then?” a playful voice asked.
A pretty, pouting brunette dropped onto the stool next to Vivian, shimmying so that her fashionable dress scooted up a little more toward her knees. She gave them a smile as dazzling as the diamonds in her ears. “One glass for me and one for Viv, if you please.”
Danny grinned back. “Coming right up, miss.”
The girl turned to Vivian. “Well, hello, shellshock. You two were looking awful serious just a moment ago. Nothing that’ll ruin the party, I hope?”
“Just talking shop,” Vivian said, shrugging one shoulder. She smiled back. “Good to see you, Mags.”
Behind the bar, Danny popped a cork on a new bottle of champagne, and Mags jumped a little, then laughed at herself. Her curly hair was pinned under to look like a fashionable bob, a style popular with girls who still wanted to look proper when they weren’t out drinking and dancing. And Mags, Vivian knew, was every inch a well-behaved girl when she needed to be. Her parents were society folks, with their own uptown mansion and loads of servants. Vivian had delivered dresses there before; it had been a shock, the first time, to see Mags out of her glamorous nighttime persona and realize she was probably not more than seventeen years old. It had been even more of a shock for both of them to be confronted by the obvious gulf between their lives.
But they managed to forget that sort of thing when they were at the Nightingale. No one was being their real selves there—or they were being the real selves they couldn’t show anywhere else. Pretending that Vivian didn’t work with the girls who sewed Mags’s expensive clothes was just how things were done. It irritated Vivian sometimes, but mostly she was grateful. She liked Mags, even if the girl was oblivious to the world outside her comfortable, wealthy cocoon. She was still a kid, she had time to learn.
“Cheers, doll,” Mags said, lifting her glass and clinking it against Vivian’s. “Here’s to the party.”
And in the meantime, she never minded buying a round.
She also never minded sharing a bit of gossip. Vivian’s hands shook a little as the thought occurred to her, and she put her glass down quickly before Mags could notice. There was a decent chance she moved in the same circles Corny Rokesby did; she might have some idea what his strange notes meant.
And if Mags could help her out, Vivian wouldn’t need to ask Hattie Wilson for another favor after all. It was worth a shot.
The band struck up a Charleston, and Mags cut a sideways look at Vivian. “You gonna ask me to dance?”
Vivian laughed, distracted for the moment from her nervous thoughts. It was well known in the Nightingale that Vivian could lead a Charleston as well as she could follow.
