TWENTY-SIX
Saturday wasn’t one of Vivian’s shifts at the Nightingale. But she still put on her dancing shoes and her lipstick at nine o’clock. The wild feeling was still buzzing inside her, and she knew she couldn’t sit at home. She needed to be with people. She needed to dance, and flirt, and pretend her time there could last forever.
And she needed to talk to Bea. She had one last idea to try.
She didn’t arrive until after the night had started. When he saw her, the doorman started to swing the door open but stopped, frowning, with his eyes on Edison, who lurked a few steps behind her. He didn’t say anything—he rarely opened his mouth if he didn’t have to—but she could see his broad shoulders tense as he eyed the plainclothes cop and waited. Vivian didn’t know whether the bruiser recognized him, or if he just recognized trouble when he saw it. Either way, he didn’t look pleased.
“I’ll dance ’til last call,” Edison said easily, his own smile knife-edged. Vivian didn’t like him any better after spending time with him.
Vivian wasn’t surprised that he knew the club’s password; he’d been there before, after all. But that didn’t mean she liked it.
“He’s part of the deal tonight,” Vivian said when the doorman gave her a questioning look. “Don’t worry, I won’t stop you from throwing him out if he causes trouble.”
“I’ve got a job anyway,” Edison said, shrugging. “Precinct chief wants me to collect the milk money from your boss.”
“You handle yourself, then,” Vivian said dismissively as they went in. The hall was carpeted, and at the end of it, thick velvet curtains hung over the doorway. The heavy fabric swallowed up the sound of their footsteps. “And don’t bother me.”
“Just don’t try to give me the slip again,” Edison warned, stretching out one arm to block her way.
Vivian regarded him coolly. “It’s not my job to make yours easy,” she said, ducking under his arm before he could stop her and pushing through the curtains. She didn’t wait for him to follow.
She didn’t pause at the top of the steps as she usually did, either, to take in the Nightingale in full swing. She didn’t want Edison to think she was giving him time to catch up.
Bea was on the bandstand, laughing in between verses as the trumpet player stood for a solo. Danny was behind the bar, leaning on his elbows to talk to a rowdy-looking trio of baby vamps in bright lipstick and brighter spangles.
Vivian didn’t see anyone else she knew, but she didn’t spend much time looking. Instead, she hurried down the steps and made a beeline for the dance floor. It took barely a moment for her to snag a partner, and only another moment until she was in his arms. When the song was done, she let him buy her a drink, ignoring the look Danny gave her from the other end of the bar, and then she was back on the floor with another partner for a Charleston, a quickstep, anything that would let her lose herself in music and heat and feet moving too fast for her to think.
She didn’t stop until the band slowed the tempo for a waltz and she felt a gentle hand on her arm. Vivian stiffened but didn’t turn around. She recognized that touch, the scent of vanilla and whiskey and spice that came with it.
“Danny’s worried about you, pet,” a soft voice murmured in her ear. “He thinks you’re looking for trouble.”
“And what do you think?” Vivian asked, glancing over her shoulder.
Honor was watching her carefully. “I think you want to escape, and this is the closest you can get,” she said quietly. “I can’t really blame you for that.”
“Funny,” Vivian said, her voice shaking as she turned around. Reality was catching up with her again, whether she wanted it to or not. “I’ve got plenty I can blame you for just now.”
Honor flinched, and for a moment they stared at each other silently. Then she held out her hand. “Let’s escape together, just for a little while.”
Vivian didn’t move, her eyes on Honor’s outstretched hand. She knew she should say no. But she was still feeling reckless. What was one more bad decision? She took Honor’s hand. “I know you love a waltz,” she said. She wanted to sound flippant, but her voice caught on the words.
“I do,” Honor said, and her voice was hoarse too. “Particularly with you.”
Vivian swallowed. “Then we should probably steal one more before we run out of time.”
Honor flinched again, and for a moment Vivian thought she would pull away. But she pulled Vivian toward her instead. Honor’s lead was light and easy to follow, as always. She slid through the music like silk and poetry, holding her loosely and not too close, though Vivian couldn’t say whether that was for Honor’s sake or her own. Vivian closed her eyes, the wild feeling melting away until, for the briefest moment, there was only honesty between them.
“Will you miss me?” she asked softly as the final bars of the waltzdrew to an end. There was a breathless silence, then the band launched into a Baltimore and dancers scrambled for new partners. No singer, this time: Bea was on a break, so the brass could be as loud as they wanted. But Vivian barely heard any of it. She expected Honor to push back against the question, to insist that everything would be all right.
But Honor had never been one to ignore reality, even when it hurt. She raised her hand to brush the backs of her fingers against Vivian’s cheek. “Every day, pet,” she whispered. “I will miss you every day.”
It ached to hear her say it, but it was a relief, to know that someone else saw the world that she saw and wasn’t afraid to admit it. Honor might lie, but she didn’t pretend.
Vivian took a deep breath and stepped away. “Thanks for the waltz,” she said, just loudly enough to be heard over the music. “But I can’t spend all night on the dance floor. I’ve got a few cards left to play.”
Honor’s hand had fallen back to her side; she nodded without protest. “Good luck, Vivian,” she said, just as softly. She sounded as if she meant it.
Vivian was about to turn away but paused. “He was nice to me,” she added. “Your dad, I mean.” Once, she might have said it as part of a plan, something to get a rise from Honor. But tonight, she was still thinking of her conversation with Florence. She’d have wanted to know, if it had been her father. She’d have wanted to know anything about him at all. “He was worried that I wouldn’t be warm enough doing my deliveries on foot. And…” She had forgotten, until that moment. “He mentioned you. Said he had a daughter who was a bit of a hellion. Said that if he’d been a better father, he’d have known that daughter more.”
