The Address(44)

Of course, she couldn’t deny that there were times when she looked out the window of her office and saw him in the courtyard, speaking to one of the other tenants, and decided it was most certainly time to check on whether or not the new porter was correctly outfitted. A few times a week, Theo would stop by and sit across from her for five minutes or so to inquire about the tenants, and her answers were even and low, knowing Daisy and Mrs. Haines could hear every word.

Standing now at her office window, Sara watched as the Camden family left to go to a holiday party, the children in matching velvet outfits and Mrs. Camden in a pale-blue silk dress with ecru lace. Sara, in contrast, looked frumpy and old, a dowdy spinster. She’d tossed her rose silk dress and peacock mask into her trunk the day after the ball, out of view. Never to be worn again.

After the Camdens’ carriage disappeared through the archway, Sara put on her boiled-wool cloak for a trip downtown. She had to buy Christmas ornaments for the enormous fir that Fitzroy had propped up in a corner of the dining room. They needed wreaths and all such nonsense, although her mood couldn’t have been gloomier.

“Do you mind if I come along?” Daisy’s voice drew Sara out of her dark reverie. “I have the afternoon off and promised my mother I’d visit. She’s not been well.”

The last thing she wanted was Daisy’s incessant prattle, but she could see no way of making an excuse. “Of course. If you’re ready now.”

Together they walked to the elevated train stop on Ninth Avenue. Sara’s legs felt heavy, like logs instead of flesh and bone, and her body ached with every step. Flakes of snow fell limply down from the clouds, as if even the weather couldn’t be bothered today, coating the piles of rocks in the empty lots with a veil of white.

The train entered the station just as they ascended to the platform. “Where are you off to?” asked Daisy as they secured two seats near the front.

“I planned to shop at Stewart’s on Broadway.”

“Lucky me. We can get off at the same stop, as it’s on the way to my family’s place.”

Sara winced as the train chugged forward. She was still getting used to taking the El. The convenience was an asset, but she never liked the feeling of being suspended high above the city in a narrow car, pulled by what seemed like a too-small locomotive. A major gust of wind would be enough to knock the entire thing off its tracks.

Daisy, on the other hand, took great delight in staring outside and pointing at the various people and buildings they passed.

“Do you see your family every week on your day off?” Sara asked as they paused at Forty-Second Street.

Daisy brightened, eager to share. “I do. There are ten of us children, and mother always makes stew. I wouldn’t miss it for the world. We do a lovely Christmas as well. You should come.”

The invitation was wildly inappropriate but sweet. “You’re a kind girl, but I’ll have enough on my hands, running the building that day. I believe we have seven parties being held.”

“Did you see Mr. and Mrs. Camden and the family today? Mrs. Camden is something of a sourpuss, I must say. Although Mr. Camden is a kind man.”

Sara hated how pleased the description of Mrs. Camden made her. “Daisy, you must not speak of the tenants in that way. You’re too familiar, by far.” She didn’t want to think of the Camdens. Or of the sad Christmas she’d be having. A day at her desk, followed by dinner with the staff. No different from holidays at the Langham, but this year was harder.

She loosened her cloak. The car was stifling, the aisles filled with bodies as the train got farther downtown. “Were you born in Ireland, Daisy?”

“No, born here. I’m an American. The freckles always give me away, though. Wish I could scrub them right off my face.”

The train shuddered to a halt, and for a moment Sara thought she might be sick.

“You all right?” Daisy cocked her head.

“This swaying makes me feel ill.”

“I thought you said you never got sick once on the crossing from England.”

Daisy seemed to remember the strangest things. “That I didn’t. But I could always get out and get some air. I wasn’t trapped like a kipper in a tin.”

Why had she said that? The image made her almost retch. Which was odd, as she’d ridden the El many times before and never been bothered.

“You look quite awful, Mrs. Smythe.”

“No, no. I’m fine.”

She did the calculation in her head.

She was late. But it couldn’t be possible. Maybe she had her dates wrong. If only she could take a look at a calendar.

They reached their stop. Daisy bounced down the stairway, and Sara took deep breaths as she descended behind her. It couldn’t be.

A red-haired boy screamed out Daisy’s name before they reached the street. His voice was not one of excitement, but panic.

“Daisy, come quick.” He flew to his sister’s side. “Mother’s ill.”

Daisy grabbed Sara’s arm. Her face had turned as ashen as the sky.

“Daisy, do you want me to come with you?” Sara couldn’t leave the girl; it wouldn’t be right.

“Please, Mrs. Smythe. Would you?”

They headed east, to a rough neighborhood where the residents of the Dakota would never venture. Daisy pointed to a tenement building across the street, made of redbrick, distinguished from its neighbors only by the color of the cornice at the very top. A black fire escape zigged down the front like a game of tic-tac-toe.