“Of course not.” Hattie gathered her fur around her, still laughing, as she made her way toward the door. “Very well, we’ll leave our business here. Perhaps we’ll cross paths again in the future.” She took one more look at Honor and laughed again. “Have a good night, Ms.Huxley.”
They could still hear her laughter drifting up the stairs as she left.
“What was that about?” Vivian asked Honor.
“I could ask you the same thing. What do you mean, it isn’t a problem anymore?” Honor came around the desk, then seemed to think better ofit, stopping several feet away from Vivian. But her worry was still there, peeking out from under her usual cool expression. “Does it have something to do with why Beatrice isn’t singing tonight? What happened?”
Vivian shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. Part of her wished that Honor would reach out again to comfort her, wrap an arm around her the way she had in the cab that night. But neither of them made any move toward each other. “It’s kind of a long story.”
Honor went back to her desk and poured an inch of liquor into the empty glass. She held it out to Vivian. Their fingers brushed against each other as Vivian took it, but Honor’s face stayed impassive. Vivian hoped hers did, too. “We’ve got time,” Honor said softly, leaning back against the edge of the desk.
She stayed that way while Vivian spoke, her voice sometimes speeding up with excitement or shaking with remembered fear. Vivian didn’t look at her, and when she had finished, she downed the entirety of the glass in one gulp, then coughed, her eyes watering at the bitter sting of the liquor. When her vision cleared again, she found Honor watching her, jaw tight and fingers clenched around her own glass.
“Do you feel safe, knowing he’s still out there?” Honor asked quietly.
“No.” Vivian shivered again. “I mean, I do for now, I think we’re kind of… we’re stuck, aren’t we? Him and me and Bea. We all know too much that can hurt the others. I don’t trust him, so I don’t know how long that will last for. But I don’t know what to do about it, either.”
Honor nodded, staring into her glass, but Vivian had a feeling that her mind was elsewhere. At last she looked up. “But safe for now,” she said quietly. “Which I’m glad to hear.” She took Vivian’s empty glass before heading back around to the other side of her desk. Setting them both to the side, she pulled out a few papers and began to sort through them. “I’ll have one of the boys tailing you and your sister for a few days, just to be sure. Indulge me,” she said, glancing up from under her lashes as Vivian started to protest. “I keep my people safe.”
“All right,” Vivian agreed. At least Honor thought she was worththat much. She hesitated, then asked, “What did Mrs. Wilson mean, at the end there? Who did you remind her of?”
Honor’s eyes were back on the papers. “I already said, I have no idea what she was talking about.”
She wasn’t telling the truth, Vivian was sure. But if there was one thing dancing and working at a place like the Nightingale taught her, it was that the roundabout approach was a much better way to get folks talking than pressing them for details that they didn’t want to share.
“Ellie said you taught her some of the signing language, and that’s how she could talk to her neighbor. How do you know it?” Vivian asked instead. “That’s how you came up with the club’s signals, right?”
“My sister,” Honor replied after a long pause. She kept her eyes on the papers as she said it.
Vivian stared at her. Somehow, she had never thought about whether Honor had a family or not. It was impossible to picture her in any other world than the one she had created at the Nightingale. “You have a sister?”
“Had.” Honor looked up at last. Vivian realized she must be getting used to reading Honor’s nearly inscrutable expressions, because she could see the edge of sadness that was lurking there. “She died a few years back. Influenza.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Me too.” Honor shrugged, back to her search. She must have found the papers she wanted, because she pulled several out, though she kept them turned away from Vivian. “She had pretty limited hearing. A neighbor taught her and me so we could sign to each other. The schools for deaf kids don’t like to teach signing, but there’re everyday folks that know.”
“Not your parents?” Vivian asked softly. She didn’t want to be fascinated by the rare glimpse behind the curtain of Honor’s private life, but she couldn’t help wanting to know more. Without meaning to, she took a step closer.
Honor must have heard the interest in her voice, because she glanced at Vivian again, a wry smile on her face. “If you’re very good, pet, maybe,maybeone day I’ll tell you about my parents. For now…” She tapped the edges of the papers in her hands against the desk, two sharp little thwacks, knocking them into a neat line. “It’s time for both of us to get back to work.”
Vivian wanted to ask more, but she made herself nod and turn to go.
Honor’s voice stopped her just as she reached the door. “Vivian…”
She glanced back over her shoulder. Honor was watching her, not speaking. Then she gave a sad smile. “I’m glad you’re okay.”
“Me too,” Vivian agreed.
And she made herself leave.
TWENTY-NINE
Vivian glanced out the window. Benny, one of Honor’s bruisers from the Nightingale, was still there, lounging against a streetlamp on Spring Street and reading a newspaper. But he glanced every so often at the door of the Chins’ place, then up and down the street, keeping an eye out for trouble. His presence eased some of the worry that had tightened up her shoulders. She turned back to her sister, who was packing.
She didn’t want to ask. She was scared of the answers she might get. But she knew she couldn’t bear putting it off any longer.
“Flo, are you…” Vivian hesitated. Her eyes were fixed on the dress she was folding, but she could feel her sister staring at her. She swallowed. “Tell me about Danny.”
