***
Later, as they sat in the dining room at Hawkins House, Sofia gave him a look with those deep, dark eyes as though he were an invading yellow jacket ready to sting someone. “Are you all right, Miss Falcone?”
She nodded. “I was just thinking of something.” She looked away. “I am sorry.”
Mrs. Hawkins cleared her throat and said a blessing over their meal.
“I must hurry today,” Sofia said, staring at her lap. “I have to speak to Papà.”
“I understand, love. We all have things to attend to. But I do hope you’ll enjoy your Sabbath meal without apprehension.”
The red-haired woman who ran the library upstairs agreed. “Don’t worry about us, Sofia. You go see your parents right after dinner. When you return I’ll have a few more selections placed on your bedside table. Later, when you have time, we can talk about the books.”
“Books? I am so sorry I haven’t yet—”
Annie jiggled her chin. “That is perfectly fine, Sofia. There will be time later.”
The room held an awkward air. Antonio shifted in his chair. The librarian woman’s husband laughed nervously. “Nothing better than discussing books. Did you know, Mrs. Hawkins, that the latest children’s book by that English author Beatrix Potter has arrived?” He turned to Antonio. “Because Annie’s father was published by a British publisher, we often get books from overseas before they arrive at the bookshop.”
The hostess clapped her chubby hands. “Splendid. I did so enjoy The Tale of Peter Rabbit. Some are saying Miss Potter’s writings are inspired by your father’s stories, Annie.”
Annie Adams sighed, bringing a napkin to her lips. “Well, I don’t know about that, Mrs. Hawkins, but it does seem so that animals are extremely popular with children.”
Despite the friendly banter, Antonio could feel Sofia’s stare bore into him. He could ignore her no longer. “I believe I will call on your aunt again, Miss Falcone. I do hope she doesn’t mind. Perhaps you will allow me to see you to your family’s apartment.” Dash all those looks from the members of St. Anthony’s, he would see whom he wished.
“She’ll be at the church.” She stared at him a moment and then looked away. There must be some kind of message she was trying to send him. This time he knew he did not have pea mash on his chin, but for the life of him he didn’t know what she was hinting at.
Sofia looked down at her lap, her black lashes flickering on the brim of her cheekbones. “Tomorrow will be best to see her, I believe. But truly, Signor Baggio, I do not think Sister Stefania…that is…I cannot say if the Sister will answer your questions.”
“Perhaps not. But she may be able to send me to someone who can. Tomorrow, then.”
She nodded, and turned her long neck away from him. This girl was troubled but lovely. Under other circumstances…
He lifted his chin toward Mrs. Hawkins. “My apologies, Mrs. Hawkins, for imposing business on the day’s conversation.”
The hostess clicked her tongue. “We do not mind, but may I ask what business you are seeking to conduct there?”
“It is complicated, but the priest at St. Anthony’s insists, if I am to stay employed there, that I wrap up some affairs as quickly as possible.” That wasn’t what he’d said, but Antonio reasoned that was what he meant. His father. His uncle. Benevento men. The entire mystery. The priest probably assumed some gangsters were involved in his father’s death, but his father had no unsavory acquaintances. He would prove that, once he figured out who was looking for him.
“Well, I wish you Godspeed, love.” She passed around a basket of soft buns.
“You are very kind.”
After the meal and a short time of conversation over coffee in the parlor, Stephen and Sofia donned their overcoats at the same time and headed toward the trolley.
“I would be happy to take you to my aunt, but I have to get home. And like I said, it is Sunday.”
“I understand. You are correct that tomorrow would be a better day for business. Truly, I wouldn’t want to impose. Indulge my curiosity, though. You did not have your Sunday meal with your family?”
“Uh, no. I planned to arrive after they had eaten. It is…difficult to explain.”
He held up a hand. “No need. I am happy I had the pleasure of enjoying the meal with you.”
She smiled. “As am I. But…why? Why do you seek a nun in Little Italy? Non capisce. I do not understand…it is a bit unusual?”
He nodded to acknowledge her puzzlement. “I have to start somewhere. The church seemed as good as any place. I’m afraid my father left some unanswered questions and my uncle believes someone in the Benevento area of the city might have more information.” He gripped the note inside his pocket, deciding not to reveal the written clues just yet.
“Signore, do you mind if we say farewell here?”
His heart sank. “I would be happy to escort you, but not stay of course.”
“That is very kind, but no, please. I mean, I can find my way. I do not mind. And with mia famiglia it is better not to bring visitors just now.”
“I see.” He was certainly an outsider. “Tomorrow I will have my dog with me when I drop in at the abbey. Your aunt seemed to like him when I was there before. Perhaps after your work tomorrow, you might meet me over there. I’d be happy to walk you back to Hawkins House. That is, if I’m not being too forward.”
She beamed and he was getting the idea that speaking in English was what was causing her to look distressed, not him. “I attend night school next door. At least, I am trying to. There is so much to do and the working day is so long. But tomorrow, I hope to go. Perhaps our paths will cross.”
He could not contain his delight. “I would like that. Are you sure you would not prefer that I see you to your family home today?”
Her smile left. “I do not mind going alone from here. Good-bye, Signor Baggio.”
He started to walk away and then retraced his steps. “I would consider it an honor if you would think of me as your friend and call me Antonio.”
“Sì, Antonio.”
His name rolled off her tongue pleasantly to his ear, the way it should sound when spoken aloud.
Chapter 13
Sofia rehearsed over in her head what she should have said to Papà during their short exchange in the tenement’s corridor. I can take care of myself. I’m a grown woman. It’s Mamma you should worry about.
She finally managed to drift off to sleep. She dreamt she saw Mamma behind iron bars calling out to her over the river. She was locked in an island cell with no one to help her keep her sanity, and, try as she might, Sofia could not get to her. She spotted Papà out on the river in a rowboat. She shouted to him but soon realized he had been the one who left Mamma there. He was moving away from her. It felt as though the solid land Sofia stood on was drifting backward. Against her will, she was abandoning Mamma just like Papà, leaving in the rowboat.
Sofia jerked awake, sweating. The entire night became a sieve, poked through with moments of wakefulness.
The next thing she knew, Minnie was shouting at her.
“Wake up, sleepy head. Don’t ya have a job to get off to this morning? Know what time it is?”
Sofia tossed her pillow aside and stared at the woman standing in the doorway of her room. “Time?” A panic rose in her belly. She glanced out the window. It was light outside. Much too light. “I am late.” If she hadn’t been alone in the room, she might have roused earlier. She sprung from the bed, visited the washroom, and then grabbed her dress from the wooden chair where she’d slung it the night before.
After she dressed and wound her hair into a bun, then covered up with her scarf, she left her shoelaces undone as she scurried down the stairs toward the front door. She had her buttonhook in her hand, planning to find the right moment to tie up her shoes while on her commute.
“Take this with you, love.” Mrs. Hawkins shoved a brown paper package at her. “For lunch. It’s all prepared. Now, God bless
your day, Sofia.”
She nodded, flashed a smile she hoped was appreciative enough, and then rushed out toward the trolley stop. She’d never overslept before. Never. Perhaps the company of her boisterous family had been for the best. She hadn’t had the opportunity to become lazy.
“This is the second time, young lady!” Mr. Richmond glared at her as she punched the time clock.
“I am on time, Mr. Richmond.”
He twisted the ends of his waxed mustache. “Perhaps, but this is the second time you’ve come perilously close to being tardy.”
He made it sound as if she were traversing a canyon cliff.
“I caution you to remedy this before it causes you to lose your job.”
He obviously wanted her out. No time had been lost, no productivity sacrificed. He watched her like a hawk, just waiting for a reason to dismiss her.
Sofia could barely breathe as she stowed the paper-wrapped lunch under her desk.
“Is your mother worse?” Claudia asked, already at work on her stack of shoes for the day.
“She is the same.”
“But you’ve moved out, haven't you?” Maria chimed in, tilting her head to the side to look at Sofia around her machine. “Carla Russo’s daughter, Luisa, told me.”
“I have. Just until Mamma is recovered. Luisa should mind her own business, though.”
Maria’s face fell, as though Sofia’s insult had been aimed at her.
Sofia waved her fingers toward her friend. “I am sorry. She is a lovely girl. Today I am just…not used to how things are, where things are…the location of the trolley stops. They moved one, and I slept too long.” There were no adequate excuses. “Forgive me, Maria.”
Maria gave her a tightlipped smile. But Claudia was not yet satisfied. “Your brother Joey is spending a lot of time at the Irish dances, Sofia. Does your mamma know? I only ask because Italian mothers…well, everyone knows how protective they are over their families. I wouldn’t want him to cause discord. I thought you should know.”
Sofia’s exclamation about Luisa’s nosiness was lost on Claudia, it seemed. Sofia nodded as though she agreed, although it was just as well known around the factory that Irish mothers were the same. Sofia’s grasp of English might not be perfect but she recognized a gossip when she saw one and wished Mr. Richmond would move Claudia to another station. Joey, the youngest in the family, was not as compliant as he should be. But, of course, Mamma didn’t know where Joey was spending his leisure and Papà didn’t have time to correct him. Neither did Sofia if she had wanted to. Perhaps Joey had the right idea—get away, meet new people.
Claudia would not stay silent. “You went to Hawkins House without us, didn’t you?”
How? Sofia rubbed her temples and felt her supervisor’s stare. “I had to find a boarding house. They took me in.”
“Is that so? At the dance, Joey told me he’d seen you walking from that direction with a gentlemen, Sofia. Quite young and handsome.” She winked when Sofia looked up.
“Joey said handsome?”
Claudia laughed. “Of course not, but he was fairly certain it was a man named Antonio Baggio you were out walking with. Some of the folks have seen him and his dog over at the nickel theater. Plays the piano, I hear.”
Antonio said he had a dog. How meddlesome Claudia was. And why would Joey be talking about her to strangers?
“Truly, Sofia, I don’t mean to be a busybody. Your brother is quite polite. I’ve even danced with him. But this Antonio is not one of them, so your brother says.”
“Oh for heaven’s sake, Claudia!” Maria nearly came out of her chair. “She is not out walking. She is just getting settled in. Whose business is it if someone showed her the way to the trolley?”
“My brother should speak to me directly if he does not approve.” Sofia hoped that would end the conversation, but to be sure, she pulled a square of leather from her bin and held it high enough to hide her face, pretending to examine it. The city was huge, crowds of people crammed the narrow streets. Joey would not have accidentally seen her, as though they were back in the small market town of Benevento. He was watching her. He knew Antonio for some reason. Papà had put him up to it, but Sofia would end it.
Sofia took a quick look at Claudia, who was reaching for her second sole. Sofia had not stitched her first yet.
Maria leaned over toward Sofia and whispered, a thread hanging out of her mouth. “She is nothing but a ficcanaso, a nosy parker.”
***
At noon Sofia chose to eat alone at her desk, hoping to gain a reprieve from Claudia. She unwrapped the paper-covered lunch and found a cold beef sandwich, an apple, and a pickle that she gave away to the boy sweeping up. Such thoughtfulness from the boarding house’s matron and her housekeeper. She’d not had time for breakfast. She rose to get a glass of water.
When she returned from the cafeteria, having stopped for a brief chat with Maria, she found her sewing machine missing, along with her lunch. Glancing in all directions, she finally spotted Mr. Richmond in a far corner. “Come here, Miss Falcone,” he called.
She hurried over and saw her machine and her work—more leather pieces than she’d had before she left, she was sure—squeezed into the corner facing a brick wall. Her lunch had been haphazardly placed on her chair.
“I believe you’ll be more productive here. No chance of chattering the day away.”
“But it was not me…” She gave up, realizing she spoke to his back and he would not give her another look. Claudia should be in this dark corner, not her.
After a long afternoon Sofia’s knuckles stiffened. As she leaned into her chair and bent back the tips of the fingers of her left hand with her right, she gazed at the stack of finished soles. Amazed at how high it was, she realized her banishment had actually made her more productive. Now Mr. Richmond would never move her back.
He approached her with his clipboard and pen ready. Frowning, he examined her work. He nodded to the floor boy who loaded up his cart. When the boy had gone he shook his head. “I’m docking your pay this week ten percent, Miss Falcone.”
“But why? I’ve done better than I ever have.”
He narrowed his falcon eyes. “And just imagine how much more you would have produced this morning had you not been fraternizing with the other workers.” He turned on his heel and moved to the next station.
A few minutes later the dismissal bell rang and Sofia stomped off to wait in line to punch her time card. After they had collected their coats, Sofia met Maria out on the sidewalk and told her what had happened.
“His niece,” Maria said. “He wants to replace you with her. I heard him on his telephone.” She snickered. “Fool does not know he doesn’t have to shout into that talking machine to be heard. My uncle has one. I know.”
“He wants to give my job away?”
“Well, Claudia works so quickly. I’m catching up to her. You are the one who bursts in like fattucchiera on her broomstick, barely ready to work. I know your mamma has not been well, Sofia, but it is still the truth. He believes you are the most likely to give him just cause to dismiss you.”
“I won’t, I tell you.” Sofia rushed toward the trolley and hopped on just in time. As she faced the open side of the car, she swung her prized shoes out into the air, and tried to ignore the worry threatening to make her cry. Papà would have to understand. One week with less pay shouldn’t send them into a debtors’ prison. Still, it made her mad and she pouted. She would not lose her job, not while she had an ounce of gumption left.
Hopping off, she saw her brother waiting for her. She was glad she’d spotted him. They needed to talk. “Don’t you have a job, Joey? You always seem to be lurking about.”
“I thought you’d be happy to see me.”
She hurried ahead of him down the walk. “Happy that you’re out in the open instead of hiding in a window well or watching me from behind someone’s sandwich board.” And she was pleased he hadn’t noticed her wandering into that first boar
ding house like the greenhorn she did not want to appear to be.
“Don’t be that way, Sofia. I’m just looking out for you. It’s a dangerous city.” He smirked. “And who told you I was behind a sandwich board?”
She spun to look at him. A few men following behind collided when Joey halted. They glared but wound their way around them and proceeded down the walk.
Sofia tugged Joey closer to her. “I am fine. I am in a safe place. Go look out for Mamma instead of following me.”
He frowned, but did not reply.
“Joey, I do not yet know why, but I believe you are more interested in a man named Antonio Baggio than my safety.”
“Hush, sister.” He clutched her close as they continued to walk. “You do not understand. It is my job to, uh, watch some people.”
“Oh for the love of Saint Peter, Joey. That is no kind of job. I don’t know what business Signor Baggio has in our neighborhood, but I assure you he means no harm.”
“I was surprised to see you with him.”
“Is he a burglar? A murderer?”
“No. How did you meet?”
“He was having lunch at the boarding house. He was a guest, and presented himself as a very fine gentleman.”
A man in a long duster coat and a brimmed hat sitting low over his eyes bumped Joey hard enough to cause him to scoot out to the street. While the avenues were always teeming with pedestrians, this seemed intentional. Her hot-as-a-pepper tempered brother oddly gave no response.
“Who was that?”
“Keep walking.”
When they were one block from Hawkins House, Joey stopped and bought a newspaper from a boy and pretended to read it. “I told you there are dangers about, Sofia.”
“That man accosted you, not me.”
He folded the paper and slapped it across his knee. “You are right. I should not be here. You tell Papà I did my duty. It is not my wish to treat you as my younger sister when you are the eldest, Sofia. I came only to warn you.”
She was running out of patience after the day she’d had. She glanced around at the brownstones, at a woman pushing a carrozzina—what Mrs. Hawkins called a pram—and cooing to her baby. She noted the baskets of sunny chrysanthemums placed near doorsteps. This was a quiet, gentle place, not a neighborhood where warnings need be made. They sat on a bench outside a pharmacy shop.
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