“Yeah, you will. Take it. It’s for your granny. You wouldn’t want her to die without trying, would you?”
That big hand puts the money in mine and closes my fingers over it. Then it moves to my shoulder, and it squeezes. “It makes me feel good to help you, Rosie.”
“Good evening, Mr. Carboni.”
Thank the Lord above. ’Tis the voice of an angel: Mrs. Evans.
“Mrs. Evans. How nice to see you again.”
To me, that doesn’t sound truthful. I keep quiet.
“I hope you’re well, Mr. Carboni. I’m here to collect Miss Ryan, since there is some urgency to her returning home.” She lifts her hand toward me, and Mr. Carboni’s slides off my shoulder. “Come along, Miss Ryan.”
I sneak past him and stand beside her, ever so grateful. The money burns in my fist.
“Miss Fiore mentioned that Rosie’snonnawas ill,” Mr. Carboni said.
“Miss Fiore told you that, did she?” Mrs. Evans asks, sweet as syrup, and I know Bianca is going to get a talking-to. She has no place speaking with Mr. Carboni about anything, and we all know it.
“She did. So I’ve given Rosie some money to help cover the medical expenses.”
Well so, I hold the ten dollars up for Mrs. Evans to see. She reaches for it, alarmed, but Mr. Carboni gets to it first. He clamps his hand over mine.
“This money is for Rosie.” His voice is low and growly, holding both me and Mrs. Evans in place. “You ain’t gonna take it from her, got it? Consider it a tip for her excellent work.”
Mrs. Evans’s business face is back. “This is highly unusual, Mr. Carboni.”
“I imagine it is.” He waits calmly, observing her. I see a spark ofamusement in his eyes. All I can think is: that’s a dangerous man. A beat passes, and nobody moves. I picture the watch on Mrs. Evans’s wrist, just out of my sight. It feels like time is moving very slowly.
Mrs. Evans blinks first. “Of course, sir. I’m sure your generous contribution to her grandmother’s welfare will be of great help.”
I try not to stare at her, but did I hear correctly? I am to keep the ten dollars? I see from the tight line of her mouth that she is not pleased, but I can also tell it’s not me she’s angry at.
“Run along home to your granny, Miss Ryan.”
I give Mr. Carboni the hint of a curtsy, feeling dizzy. “I’m obliged to you, sir. My granny will be beyond grateful for your kindness.”
He takes a step toward me, but Mrs. Evans is there first, prim as you please, standing like a wall between us. Her hand lands on my hip, where he can’t see it, and she gives me a little push.
“That will be all, Miss Ryan.”
Sure, I’ll not be fool enough to ask questions when luck falls in my lap. I grab my trolley and race with it to the elevator. While I wait, I hear them talking behind me.
“We’ve spoken about this before, sir. I’d appreciate it if you’d leave the staff alone. They’re young and learning, and they are trained not to speak with the guests directly. When you engage with them, they must be disciplined for disobeying. I’m sure you wouldn’t want that for Miss Fiore or Miss Ryan.”
“Is that right? Well, me, Mrs. Evans, I’d appreciate it if you’d stop poking your nose in my business. Noses get cut off all the time.”
“Mr. Carboni—”
“That’s enough,Geraldine.” His tone is sharp. “I got business to attend to, so get lost.”
Geraldine? I shut my mouth. Of course she has a first name. I just never thought about that. I peek back and am astonished by what I see. Mrs. Evans hasn’t backed down. She is a force to be reckoned with, though she is a quarter of the man’s size. She’s a hero to me.
“I will be moving Miss Ryan to a different floor tomorrow. I thought you should know.”
The elevator arrives, and I hold the door open just long enough to hear his response.
“No you won’t,” he growls. “Don’t change a thing if you know what’s good for you. Or for your brother.”
