Chapter Nine
Sequins jingle together as Olive spins once, glancing at herself in the mirror. It is that time of night, after Sophia has gone to sleep, and the flappers are just now hitting the town for dinner then a night of dancing.
A pair of silky gloves and matching shoes complete the outfit. Though everything looks one size too large, Olive thinks she pulls it off quite nicely.
She can picture one hand, pushing open the red padded door. A plume of smoke and music greet her.
One loud whine cuts through the daydream, and it isn't the band's oboe. It is Sophia, whimpering from either hunger or a bad dream. Olive kicks off her shoes and peels off the gloves, dropping them on the floor as she enters the nursery. "Hush, baby," Olive coos. "Mommy is here, mommy is here. Are you hungry, sweetheart? Let mommy just change out of this so we don't ruin it."
Sophia is wriggling on top of the bed, pausing when she hears a knock at the back window. Olive smiles, pulling a thick robe over her nightgown.
"Only one person would go knocking on my windows at this hour. And we know who that is, don't we?"
In the kitchen, Olive pushes open the same window she used to enter the house when she first came. "Hi, Davis. You can knock on the door, and come in like a real guest, you know."
"Oh, you know me Olly. I like sneaking around. Besides, if they interview neighbors for your application to become a foster parent, I don't want anyone giving the wrong impression of you."
"I heard from the agency today. They said the interviewing is done and they are just waiting for final approval on the application." Olive retrieves a bottle from the fridge and feeds Sophia while she stands by the window.
"So you're the town’s next Mrs. Moe?" teases Davis.
"Hardly," says Olive. "I'm taking them one at a time. Can't crowd Sophia too much. But I bet she would love having an older sister or brother." Olive switches Sophie in her arms, she is getting heavy. "Besides, the widow's fund more than takes care of the two of us."
"You're not gonna expand on that closet of yours? Get more of those gowns that you always dreamed of; maybe some that actually fit?"
Olive halfway expects a joke about her bubs, but it doesn't come.
She smiles. "No, Davis. Sophia keeps me on the straight and narrow." Olive changes the subject. "How is everyone? How is the new place?"
Davis found the street gang another abandoned building to sleep in—one that isn't covered in ash. A few of the boys have even taken up regular paper routes.
"Everybody is good as can be expected. The food you bring each week helps," he says.
"And the new kid? He got that cough under control yet?" asks Olive.
"Who, Jimmy?" asks Davis.
Olive nods.
"Not yet. It's getting worse."
"Hold on, I got something for that." Olive turns, running to her bedroom and back again.
"Here," Olive passes a purple, lacy dress through the open window. "Sell this—should cover you for some medicine."
"Oh, come on, Olly. You don't have to." Davis makes a half-hearted attempt to thrust it back at her. "Not a few months ago you would have given me a fat lip if I insisted on selling it instead of letting you keep it for your collection."
Olive smiles. "I would have, wouldn't I?"
"Yeah," Davis leans in, pointing to his upper lip. "Right here."
They both laugh.
"You burn my gloves yet?" Olive asks, remembering the collection she did have back at the factory.
"They were gone within a week—it was a rough winter."
"I know, Davis, I know. What about Charlie's pillow?"
"Are you kidding? Moneybags won't give that up to no one. He's growing mean."
Olive laughs again. "Good for him."
"I could bring him here, you know—let him stay with you. He'd be a good guard dog."
Olive pauses for a moment, pulling the bottle from Sophia's lips. She has drunk herself back to sleep.
"No," Olive says, voice low. "The boys need him more than I do. I gotta put her to bed, Davis. See you next week?"
"See you next week," Davis begins pulling down the window for Olive.
"And Davis?" Olive asks.
"Yeah?" he ducks to see her under the window.
"No more windows. Next time knock on the front door, and you can come at a more reasonable hour."
"Is that a date?" Davis smiles.
"You want another fat lip?" Olive teases back.
She can hear his laughter even after he shuts the window the rest of the way. Olive brings little Sophia back to her crib and lays her down, making sure her blanket is pulled down low.
"Oh, lovely." Olive dabs at the spit-up running down her shoulder. She rubs at her eyes, heavy with bags underneath. But before Olive can delve too far into her self-pity, Sophia coos in her sleep.
Olive leans down to kiss the baby on her forehead. She smells like soap and powder.
The locket escapes from Olive's nightgown, swinging in front of her face like a pendulum. She smiles and tucks it back in. Olive wears it all the time. It is a good reminder to be careful what you wish for, because you may just get it—and more.
The Dreamer Page 11
