“How’s Claude with all this? Still sulking at his rejection?”
“I swear, you bring him up every chance you get,” said Sadie, swatting LuAnn with her hand. LuAnn had been so excited when Sadie had confessed to the stolen kiss, it had been slightly unnerving. Like maybe she considered Sadie’s presence in their lives an intrusion, the lonely aunt who stuck her nose into everything—including their wardrobes—and who would now go off and get a life of her own. “It wasn’t a big deal, and it’s over anyway. Thank goodness, as now I’m his boss. It’s awkward enough.”
LuAnn’s expression was warm, her mouth flickered up in a smile. “If you say so.”
“I keep telling you he’s got the reputation at the library of being a playboy; I dodged a bullet there. Besides, I’m going to be like my grandmother, an independent woman of letters.”
“That’s a fine choice to make,” said LuAnn, gently. “As long as you’re not throwing yourself into work as a way of avoiding something else.”
“Like what?” Sadie felt her defenses rising.
“Like the fact that your mother just passed away.”
Sadie patted her knee and rose from the bed. She really should be going. “Don’t worry, I’m fine.”
* * *
As Sadie made her way down the steps of the brownstone, she spied Robin and Valentina in the small park across the street. Valentina was playing with three other girls on the monkey bars and gave a cheerful wave. Instead of heading home, Sadie joined Robin on a bench in the shade of an elm tree.
Sadie nodded in Valentina’s direction. “She looks happy. Is she okay?”
Robin nodded. “She was a little worried she’d done something wrong, but I explained to her that no one was mad at her and it was fine.”
They watched the children playing. “How long have you been in New York?” Sadie asked.
“I moved to the city late last year, from Massachusetts. I figured I’d do some nannying before deciding what else I might do with my life.”
“What are you considering?”
“I don’t know. Maybe fashion. Did you always want to be a librarian?”
“I did. I loved my high school librarian, looked up to her immensely.”
Robin pointed to the shopping bag at Sadie’s feet. “You got out with the loot?”
“I sure did.”
“Watch me!” Valentina kicked up her legs and held a handstand, before bending her back as if she had no spine and landing on her feet, finishing with her hands held high. “It’s a walkover.”
“Amazing.” Sadie clapped her hands. “One more time, bendy girl.”
Valentina took a moment to prepare before launching into the move.
“Be sure to look at the ground as you go over,” advised Robin. “Nicely done. Do you want some carrots?”
Robin dug into her handbag and pulled out a plastic bag of carrot sticks. Valentina gnawed on one while leaning on Sadie, one arm thrown around her neck. “Robin said all the grown-ups are acting weird because of Grandma’s death,” she said.
Sadie shot Robin a look of gratitude and pulled Valentina closer. “I suppose we are. Sometimes after someone dies, the people left behind can act funny, because they miss her.”
“Your mother was very sweet,” said Robin.
Sadie raised one eyebrow. “I don’t know if I’d use that exact word. That last night, I do wish I’d been kinder to her, though.”
“Don’t worry, Aunt Sadie.” Valentina leaned in, putting her forehead against Sadie’s. She smelled of clean laundry. “I came back to say good night. Grandma was upset, but then I told her it was okay and she smiled and said she knew the truth about the stolen tambourine, and hadn’t told a soul. She said she was good with secrets.”
Sadie pulled back, studying her niece. “The truth about what?”
“The stolen tambourine.”
The girl wasn’t making sense. Pearl hadn’t played any instruments; Sadie’s father was the only one with musical talent in the family. And Sadie didn’t remember any tambourines lying around.
“Did you hear any of this?” Sadie turned to Robin, who shook her head.
“I was cleaning up in the kitchen. Does it mean something to you?”
Sadie shook her head and locked eyes with Valentina. “A tambourine? Are you sure Grandma said a tambourine?”
Repeating the word, the meaning clicked in. It wasn’t a musical instrument her mother had been talking about. “I think she meant to say ‘Tamerlane.’ Does that sound right?”
“Sure,” said Valentina.
“Did she say who stole the Tamerlane?”
Valentina blew her bangs out of her eyes. “Her father.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
New York City, 1914
But Father promised!”
Harry’s wail pierced the air inside the apartment. It was all Laura could do to not strangle him.
“Harry. Enough.”
“But I want to play catch.”
He’d at least lowered his voice to a reasonable level, so she took a breath and tried again.
“Your father is busy at work, and I have a meeting with my advisor at the university. You’ll have to wait.”
“The boys will make fun of me if I can’t throw well.”
“Who? Who will?”
“The boys.”
He’d been doing so well, she hated to see him lose his precarious social standing at school. “Fine, I have twenty minutes. Shall we play a quick game of catch together?”
He agreed, grudgingly. He preferred his father in all matters to do with sport—that was clear enough.
When Harry had been a small child, he’d needed his mother much more than Pearl had. Harry had sought out Laura’s attention, asking her question after question. They talked so much that she often found her own voice ragged by the end of the day. The subjects changed as he grew older, but the inquiries were no less frequent: Why did they move to New York from the country? How many people live in New York? Could he build a tree house in the park behind the library? Why was the woman begging on the stairs of the library?
Whenever Laura and Jack argued, Harry would ramp up his interruptions, as if trying to save them from each other. It was maddening, and oftentimes Jack would end up yelling for Harry to be quiet and send him to his room. She’d stop in after to check on him, and find him hiding under his bedcovers, sucking his thumb. “He’s a sensitive boy,” she’d tell Jack. “We must be careful.”