Mrs. Chin gave her son a look over her shoulder. “The trash needs to be taken out,” she ordered, and he obeyed immediately, giving Florence a quick wink before hefting the bin and hauling it out the open door. Florence, smiling like she was keeping a secret, went back to the dishes. Mrs. Chin watched them for a moment, her mouth tight with worry, before turning back to Vivian, dropping her voice as she spoke. “His name is Mr. Sun,” she said quietly, holding out a folded piece of paper.
Vivian took it automatically, but it was a moment before her brain caught up to what Mrs. Chin was saying. “That’s… you mean the man I asked about? Mr. Sun, you said?”
Danny’s mother nodded. “That’s his address. It isn’t very far from here, if you want to look him up. Please don’t make me regret giving it to you.”
Vivian held the paper carefully, not wanting to crumple it. “Thank you.”
Mrs. Chin nodded. “You’re good girls,” she said again, this time with a sigh and a quick glance at Florence. “I need some fresh air.”
Vivian watched her head out the back door. When she looked away,Florence was watching her, her worry plain. “What was that about? Whose address, did she say?”
“Nothing,” Vivian said, resisting the urge to tuck the paper behind her back. She told herself Florence wouldn’t approve of her looking for someone who knew their mother, but that wasn’t the real reason. The hot, bitter feeling made her want to keep a secret of her own.
“Vivian. Don’t do this again.”
She sighed. “I’ll tell you later. I’ve gotta get ready for work.”
“Okay,” Florence said slowly. She didn’t argue, but the concerned expression didn’t fade as she watched Vivian leave.
And Vivian went, hating herself a little as the door closed behind her.
TWENTY-THREE
There was a storm hovering over New York that night, hovering but not breaking, and the heavy, charged air seemed to put the entire city on edge. Vivian was glad she had Danny by her side as they made their way to the Nightingale, dodging around staggering clusters of young men who were already drunk, high-spirited and belligerent in turn. As Silence opened the door to let them in, Danny glanced at the sky, dark with clouds and silvered with glances of moonlight. “Feels like we’re in for an interesting night.”
Silence grunted in agreement, and Vivian shivered.
The mood inside the club was equally tense. The tables were cleaned, the electric lights dimmed, the last case of liquor carried up to the bar. But it was all done in unusual quiet, punctured by sudden bursts of laughter or nervous whispers. The whole staff was on edge. Vivian wondered whether it was just the weather or something more.
“Everything ready?” Honor asked, stopping by the bar to check in with Danny. She glanced around the club. “Where’s Beatrice? She’s supposed to be on the bandstand tonight.”
“We’re missing Alba, too,” Danny said, surveying the staff.
“They’ll be coming together,” Vivian said, arriving with a tray of sparkling glasses and handing them to the second bartender. “Alba’s living with Bea’s family for the moment.”
Honor frowned. “Everything okay there?”
Vivian hesitated. She didn’t know if Alba had yet shared the news of her pregnancy with Honor. And while there was no reason to think the Nightingale’s owner would be prudish about the revelation, it still wasn’t her news to share. “Far as I know,” she said at last. “They might just be running a little late.”
Honor was still looking over the club, but she glanced at Vivian out of the corner of her eyes. “You’re doing okay? And your sister?”
“Just swell,” Vivian said, a little more forcefully than she meant to. She smiled. “Probably moving back home soon, now the ruckus seems to have died down some.”
“Like hell you are,” Danny said, smiling cheerfully even as his voice was sharp. “You girls aren’t heading back until we know for sure no one’s coming after you anymore. Not when there might be a cop mixed up in this racket.”
Vivian turned to glare at Honor. “You told him that?”
Honor raised her brows. “I tell Danny nearly everything, pet. You know that. And he does the same. It’s how we keep our doors open and our people safe.” Before Vivian could answer, she was moving off, gesturing to Benny and Saul at the top of the stairs so they would know it was time.
The band was just finishing warming up, discordant notes resolving at last as Mr. Smith counted off and they launched into a cheerful instrumental rendition of “Sister Kate.” The electric lights dimmed, the first guests started to trickle in, and Vivian didn’t have time to think about anything except work until she saw Bea arrive at last, tossing her things behind the bar and hurrying toward the bandstand.
Vivian managed to cross her path before she made it all the way there. “I need to talk to you,” she whispered.
Bea took one look at her face, and her own grew far more serious than it had been a moment before. “It’s not good news, is it?” Vivian shook her head. Bea plastered a smile back on her face, waving into the crowd as someone who had clearly started her drinking early yelled a welcome. “I’ll see if I can just do a quick set, then tell them I need to powder my nose or something. Meet me in the dressing room.”
Danny had been right when he said it would be an interesting night. The mood was high and wild, and Vivian was kept running around with almost no break. But it still wasn’t enough of a distraction to keep her from replaying everything that had happened that day, starting with Beryl’s letter. And when her mind jumped back to the memory of that revolver pointing at her…
Vivian shivered hard enough that the glasses on her tray clinked against each other.
