“I told you. It doesn’t work that way, you silly old man.” She curled toward him. “What do I have to do to convince you?”
He didn’t answer. Her voice was already drowsy, and he didn’t really need to be persuaded. He believed her completely; he just wasn’t very good at admitting it. Like he’d said before, belief wasn’t his problem.
Her fingers grew lax against his, and he lay quietly, comforted by her presence beside him, by the weight of her hand, and by the cadence of her breathing. When he was sure she was asleep, he brought their clasped hands to his mouth and placed a kiss above her knuckles.
“I see what you mean, Dani. It’s lovely,” he murmured, and kissed her hand again. In fact, he might be happy kissing the back of her hand for the rest of his life.
Charlie protested deep in his throat, his hackles rising as though Malone were about to take a bite from Dani’s flesh.
“Be quiet, Charles,” Malone said, but he settled her hand in the space between them on the bed and pulled the edge of the comforter around her. Then he slept, surprisingly content.
He’d fallen asleep on the edge of the bed, as far from her as he could get. One arm was slung across his eyes, one arm hung off the side. One of his stockinged feet was on the floor as if he needed to ground himself to the earth while he slept. She understood that. She often feared being lost to dreams.
She pulled on her shoes and listened for Margaret. She didn’t want the woman to see her leaving Michael’s room. When she heard no sounds of movement or mumbled singing, she tiptoed out. Charlie followed, having completed his duty as chaperone. She ducked into Malone’s bathroom and tidied her curls with a wet comb and a touch of his pomade. She borrowed a bit of his tooth powder as well and scrubbed at her teeth with the end of her finger. It would do until she’d had her breakfast.
As soon as she reached the base of the stairs, she could hear her aunts and Margaret conversing above her and dishes clanking with the sounds of breakfast being prepared. Dani was still dressed in a deep blue dress, the “something dark” Michael had insisted she wear. It was a little too heavy for a Saturday spring morning, but her aunts wouldn’t notice, nor would they assume anything by her presence downstairs. She often began her day in the sewing room, the first to rise and the last to retire.
The women had the papers spread over the kitchen table, and Margaret was reading aloud, her voice suitably horrified.
“All they found was half of her leg,” she summarized. “Nothing else. They’ll be combing the banks all week for more. Coroner Gerber says it’s him again. It’s the Butcher.”
“Now the city will be in an uproar and Holy Week will be ruined,” Zuzana complained. “He might have waited until after Easter.”
“Good morning, Tety,” Dani said, pulling out her chair. “Margaret.”
“Good morning, Daniela,” the women said in tandem, but none of them gave her more than a passing glance.
“Will Mr. Malone be joining us?” Margaret asked.
“I don’t know. We will prepare him a tray if he doesn’t,” Dani answered.
Zuzana sneered. “There is little worse than a lazy man. Pavel, even when he was so ill he could hardly eat, did not make us serve him in bed.”
“Nobody is serving him, Tetka,” Dani said, wondering why Pavel was being brought into the conversation.
“I would be happy to serve him.” Lenka smiled, cutting her poached egg into dainty pieces.
Margaret snickered, but Zuzana leveled her with a silencing frown.
“Poor Pavel,” Margaret said, clearing her throat. “What a valiant man. It’s a pity I never knew him. What was it that ailed him? I don’t think you’ve ever said.”
“The voices in his head,” Zuzana said. “Poor dear. He died in agony.”
Margaret gaped, wanting more information, but when Malone’s tread was heard on the stairs, she rushed to the kitchen to fill his plate, forgetting all about poor Pavel.
Lenka preened and Dani’s heart galloped in anticipation as Malone walked into the room, but she kept her greeting mild and her glance fleeting.
Unlike her, he had changed his clothes, and his hair was freshly slicked in dark waves, and his appearance drew more than a mere Good morning among the women. Margaret buzzed around him, and Lenka beamed at him with so much pleasure that Zuzana swatted at her with the newspaper. He accepted the brimming plate from Margaret with a soft thank-you. She blushed a cherry red, retied her apron, and bustled down the stairs humming Benny Goodman’s latest.