“She wasn’t. She died after the war, in a car accident.” Like Tom. Grace’s stomach tightened.
Grace forced herself to focus on the call. “I’m sorry to trouble you. I had some questions about the work your sister did during the war.” She paused. It seemed too intimate to ask over the phone. “I’m in Washington now, not terribly far away from you. Do you suppose we could meet?”
“I don’t know...” There was a hesitation in the woman’s voice.
“Please, it’s very important. I can come to you if it’s easier.”
“No,” the woman said quickly, as if the intrusion into her home would be unwelcome. “I have to be at The Willard tonight. If you’d like, we could meet in the bar at seven.”
Grace hesitated. Meeting tonight might mean missing the last train back to New York and staying over—something she hadn’t contemplated at all. But it was her only option if she wanted to learn more about the girls.
“Thank you. I’ll be there.”
As she hung up Grace cringed, thinking of Frankie and missing a second day of work. She considered asking Mark if she could make another call, then decided he wouldn’t mind and dialed the operator again to place it. Frankie might be gone for the day, she realized, as the line to the office rang twice with no answer. But a moment later his voice filled the line. “Bleeker & Sons.”
“Frankie, it’s me.” She did not have to say her name.
“Kiddo, how are you?” His voice sounded distant. The slight slur to his words made her wonder if he had been drinking.
“Frankie, you don’t sound good. What’s wrong?”
There was silence, dead air over the line. “It’s Sammy. He came back. There was an older kid at his cousin’s place who tried to take the money I gave Sammy. Sammy fought back and he got beat up.”
“Oh, no! Is he okay?”
“Yeah, he’s got a shiner and a busted lip. He’ll live.” Her heart screamed out at the idea that the little boy, who had been through so much, had now suffered this as well. “But he can’t go back there. You were right, kiddo. He shouldn’t be on his own so young. I’m filing papers to get him in the state system.”
Poor Sammy would wind up in a boys’ home after all. “I’m sorry, Frankie. It’s so hard getting involved. Maybe we can figure out something else.”
“I think we’re out of options here. But we can talk about it when you get back tomorrow.”
She hesitated. “About that... I need another day.”
There was an audible sigh on the other end of the line and she could almost see his face, crestfallen. “Where are you, kiddo? I think I deserve to know.”
She thought so, too. “I’m in Washington,” she confessed.
“What on earth are you doing there?”
“I’m trying to find out some information on a woman named Eleanor Trigg. She’s the one who was hit by a car in front of Grand Central the other day.”
“Why? Did you know her?”
“I didn’t.”
“Then what was she to you?”
Good question, Grace thought. “It’s complicated, Frankie. I found a suitcase of hers with some photographs of about a dozen young women. I took the photos, and when I went to return them, the suitcase was gone. I’m trying to figure out who she was and who the girls were and give the photos back. I’ll be back in a day and I promise I’ll explain more then, okay? I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the trip,” she added, genuinely contrite. Frankie had been so good to her; she should have let him in on the whole thing from the start.
“It’s all right,” he said, forgiving her instantly. “If you need help, I could come down. I’m good at navigating the bureaucrats.”
She smiled. “I know you are,” she said, loving him for the offer. She had to see this through for herself, though. “But I think our clients need you there more.” Grace was suddenly struck with an idea. “There is one thing. Eleanor came from England to New York at some point before the accident. Can you check with your friends over at immigration and customs and see if they have anything on her? You know, when she got here, what she put on the forms, that sort of thing.” It was nervy, she knew, asking for another favor in addition to the extra time off. But Frankie wouldn’t say no.
“You’ve got it, kiddo. Consider it done. Just hurry back—and be careful.”
Grace placed the receiver back on the cradle, then returned to the living room. “I’ve managed a meeting with a sister of one of the girls tonight.”
Mark smiled and handed her a warm mug of coffee. “So you’ll be staying until tomorrow?”
She took a sip. “Most likely. I don’t think there will be a train by the time I’ve finished seeing her. I’ll find a hotel for the night.” She tried to calculate what that might cost.
“Stay here. I can understand why after what happened you might not want to,” he added quickly. “But I have a guest room, so it’s all on the up-and-up.”
She scrutinized Mark, wondering if he had other intentions. “That would hardly be appropriate.”
He raised his hands. “Your decision, but it’s a perfectly good room. I rented it out during the war when all of the government workers were here and housing was short. Unless you don’t think you can behave yourself.”
“I can...” she started, before realizing he was teasing. Her cheeks flushed. “That would be lovely. Thank you.”
That night at seven, they stepped out of a cab in front of The Willard. Across Lafayette Park, the sky behind the White House was dusky. Mark helped her from the car, his hand warm and sure against the small of her back. Inside, the lobby was opulent. The floor was a mosaic of rosettes and the ceiling was elaborately painted with the seals of all forty-eight states. Marble columns ran from floor to ceiling. The chandeliers were fantastic globes, each wrapped by four bronze female figures. The chairs were upholstered in fine leather and oversize palms sat in pots. Grace wished she’d brought a nicer dress to wear.
At the entrance to the bar, she stopped, scanning the room uncertainly. It was a sea of men in business suits, puffing on cigars or cigarettes, with only a handful of women interspersed among them. Was one of them Annie? She hadn’t thought to ask for a description.
Grace spied the bar at the far corner of the lobby and started toward it. Mark began to follow. She turned to him. “Mark, I’m so grateful for everything that you are doing, but...”
“You want to talk to Annie by yourself,” he finished for her.