by Liz Freeland
The holiday inevitably carried with it wistful thoughts of family members who were missing in my life. Was Calvin Longworth enjoying his first taste of turkey, I wondered? Did his parents realize how much they had to be thankful for? Even memories of my Altoona family carried sadness, and nostalgia. It had been almost a year and a half now since I’d seen Aunt Sonja, my uncles Dolph and Luddie, and my young cousins. A hundred times I pictured the table they’d be sitting around: the meticulously polished silver, the wedding crystal, and Aunt Sonja’s best Meissen china. Did they ever wonder about me? I was tempted to write them and tell them about my success in settling in New York and finding a career . . .
Except that I didn’t want to brag about being a policewoman if I was about to be pitched out of the department.
Though Aunt Irene’s nearest and dearest friends came in and out all day, my own friends were not there. Callie was spending the day with Teddy. I wondered what his family would make of his bringing a showgirl home for Thanksgiving. Otto was also conspicuously absent. At the last minute, he’d sent a message that he had to work but would be stopping by in the evening with a surprise. Not having him there to joke with about Altoona probably added to my melancholy, which I tried not to show.
The one person I knew sympathized with me was Miriam. However well she was fitting in with Aunt Irene’s household, she didn’t disguise the sadness in her eyes when our gazes met that day. I knew she didn’t regret Jackson’s being caught, or the end of her marriage. If anything, she was relieved to know that he was locked away. But she was also far from home on this day that seemed to be all about home and families.
In the evening, I served hors d’oeuvres and drinks to visitors who crowded into the parlor. I watched the door, expecting each newcomer to be Otto. Once when I looked up, Muldoon was strolling in. The last time I’d seen him was Saturday night, after we’d both been fished out of the river, although he’d sent over a fruit basket to the flat. He nodded to me and then went to greet Aunt Irene, who effused over him like a long-lost friend.
I threaded my way over to him, offering him my drinks tray by way of greeting.
His lips turned down slightly. Champagne wasn’t his beverage, I guessed.
“We have everything.” I tilted my head toward Walter tending the ornate bar across the room.
“No, thanks. I only came by because I wanted to talk to you.” He studied my face. “Your eye’s better.”
It was at the yellow stage, which Aunt Irene had helped me cover with makeup. The thin red mark across my cheek was still visible, although the doctor who’d looked at it swore it wouldn’t leave much of a scar. Muldoon’s gaze took in the red gash. His grim expression made my heart sink.
“I’m out,” I guessed. Of the police department, I meant.
“Why would you think that?”
“Because of the way you’re looking at me. You might as well be hooded and carrying a scythe.”
He gestured toward the dining room. “Why don’t we go in there and have a talk.”
The dining room was mostly empty. I led the way. When we were both seated, I decided a little liquid courage wouldn’t go amiss. I belted down half a glass of champagne.
“All right,” I said. “You can tell me. I can take it.”
“You’re not going to lose your job,” he said. “The Van Hootens made a big fuss about your discovering Guy’s killer and helping to catch him.”
“They did?” Yes, Hugh had thanked me in person, but I was still shocked. And Muldoon’s mentioning Van Hootens in the plural made it seem as if Edith Van Hooten must have said a word on my behalf, too.
He nodded. “What’s more, two merchants from Lexington Avenue contacted downtown, saying that you should get a commendation for catching a shoplifter.”
“But what about the attempted jailbreak?”
He shrugged. “A killer and a thief off the street more than cancel out that little episode. From what I’ve heard, you’ll be able to finish out your probationary period.”
“Have you discovered who Cain’s spy is?”
He shook his head. “That will take a longer investigation. I know it’s hopeless to tell you to be careful, but you need to keep your eyes open.”
I could feel myself sitting taller. “And that’s what you came to tell me?”
“Mostly.”
Happiness surged through me, along with the desire to club him with an empty champagne bottle. “Why didn’t you come out and say so right away? You didn’t have to scare me half to death.”
He looked as if I’d lost my mind. “What did I say to scare you?”
“It was how you looked.”
“I can’t help the way I look,” he said.
“Yes, you can. It’s called a smile. I seem to recall you have a very handsome one when you choose to employ it.”
Two lines deepened in his brow, and he looked more serious than ever.
I laughed. “Here—a little bubbly might help you to remember the mechanics of it.” I pushed a glass toward him, and he took it.
“Louise, I—”
All at once, the entire room seemed to suck in its breath. Everyone turned toward the door.
I stood up halfway, then thumped back down again as excited murmurs went through the room in a wave. Otto had come in with Al Jolson. The entertainer fed off the guests’ adulation, and his always wide smile grew wider. He went to my aunt, going down on his knee and kissing her hand as if she were royalty. Aunt Irene fluttered both at the attention and at the coup of having landed such an illustrious guest. “I hope you’ll entertain us a little, Mr. Jolson.”
“Friends call me Al,” he corrected.
“That’s what Al and I have been up to most of the day,” Otto said. “We’ve been working out a song for him to add to his new show when he takes it on tour.” He turned to Jolson. “Should we try it out?”
“No time like the present, kid.”
They headed to the piano, and the rest of the room pivoted to follow them, like a school of fish.
I had a hard time looking away, too, but something Muldoon had been saying bubbled back into my mind. I touched the sleeve of his jacket. “What did you mean by mostly?”
He glanced back at me. “What?”
“You said that the news about my job was ‘mostly’ what you came here for. What else?”
“To check on how you were and to see what kind of day you’d had.” His voice lowered and tentatively, he put his hand over mine. “I thought maybe you’d be missing your home.”
“Oh.” My eyes felt hot, and for a moment I tried to gulp past a knot in my throat. How had he known?
“Louise . . .”
I shook my head. “It’s nothing. I have been thinking of home today, and feeling a little sad. That’s probably because Aunt Irene and I visited Mr. McChesney early this morning. It was awful. I felt so good about catching Jackson, but Mr. McChesney’s still going to be in jail for a long time.”
He nodded.
“So it feels bittersweet now. Not the victory I’d expected.”
“Welcome to police work,” he said.
The piano launched into an up-tempo number and Jolson started belting out a song. My song, I realized.
Otto caught my eye, briefly, and then returned his adoring gaze to his new idol. Jolson was playing the small crowd much as he did dancing up and down the apron of the Winter Garden, singing in his manic patter about a girl who’d strung him along with increasingly feeble excuses, ending with the line, “She didn’t really go to the dentist.”
The crowd laughed, and by the third chorus we were all singing along. I glanced over at Muldoon, who was looking at me, his lips turned up in a smile.
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