Grave Phantoms (Roaring Twenties #3)(89)

And though he could afford the lease—mostly due to the Wicked Wenches offering him the state senator’s former cozy one-bedroom apartment on the floor below theirs for an impossibly low rent that no amount of arguing would change—he wasn’t used to plunking down that much money every month to live. Or any money at all, frankly. Selling his old apartment in Chinatown gave him a small cushion, but there were other expenses to consider, not to mention a dozen unknowns, which were busy churning up anxiety in his gut.

He slipped a hand inside his pocket and fingered the new apartment key, dazedly thinking of everything that was now his. A parlor that overlooked Huntington Park. A cozy dining room. A bedroom—spacious enough for a very big bed. A newly remodeled kitchen with electric appliances. And, best of all, a small library. An actual library! All of Bo’s books would fit on one bookcase, but he could buy more.

“It’s four blocks from Dr. Moon’s apartment,” he told Winter, thinking of the gray area between neighborhoods that Astrid had talked about their first night in the lighthouse. “And only a fifteen-minute walk from Aida’s shop.”

“Aida will be eager to see it,” Winter said. “Hadley stopped by the house earlier and they were talking about it. The two of them are getting awfully chummy, if you ask me,” he said with a lowered brow, as if that was something to be suspicious about.

“Probably just discussing Lowe and Hadley’s trip to Egypt,” Bo said. The couple was leaving by train tomorrow, heading out to the East Coast, where they’d board a ship bound for an Atlantic crossing. “Hadley’s unusually bubbly these days.”

“Maybe,” Winter said, but he didn’t seem convinced as he headed back out into the warehouse.

Bo was too happy to care. He needed to write Astrid a letter. Maybe a telegram. A long-distance telephone call would be too expensive, and he was afraid if he heard her voice, he’d be tempted to beg her to come home today. He wanted that to be her choice. Besides, there were too many other things that needed doing. Moving his things. Buying furniture.

A letter. That would be the best. He could suggest she send a telegram in return when she received it. That would give him a couple of weeks to get things settled.

He dumped the pile of delivered mail he’d been carrying onto Winter’s desk and sat down behind it, his mind abuzz with Too Many Things, when the warehouse receptionist knocked on the doorframe.

“Miss Fong to see you,” she said.

Bo’s hands stilled over the pile of mail. What in the world was Sylvia doing here? Before he could guess, she was escorted into the office.

“Hello, Ah-Sing,” she said brightly as she breezed beneath the stuffed shark.

“Sylvia,” he answered, standing up. “What’s wrong?”

She tugged on the tips of her gloves and sat down in a chair in front of the desk. “Why would there be something wrong? Can’t an old friend just pay a friendly visit? I heard you sold your apartment. You could have at least stopped by and told me.”

“I did stop by, actually,” he said, sitting back down behind the desk. “You weren’t home.”

“Liar.”

Well, yes. But he’d seen Amy walking up the stairs and didn’t much feel like visiting both of them, so he’d taken the coward’s way out. “I sold my apartment,” he said. “Now you know. How are you, by the way? You seem more cheerful than usual.”

She flashed him a dazzling smile and pulled off her left glove. A small jewel glittered on her ring finger. “I’m engaged.”

“To—?”

“Andy Lee.”

“Your boss at the telephone office? That’s the boyfriend you’ve been talking about?”

“Jealous?”

Bo chuckled. “A little. But mostly happy for you. I mean, are you? Happy?”

“Very much. What about you? Are you and—”

He nodded. “She’s in Los Angeles right now. Back in school.” He told her a few details, about the apartment and the fact that her family knew about them. “How it will all work out, I don’t know. But I never thought it would go this far, and that’s something.”

“How far do you want it to go?” Sylvia pulled a newspaper clipping from her handbag. “Because I saw this at Andy’s place and thought of you.”

He breathed in the scent of ink as he unfolded the newsprint. It was from Seattle. The Northwest Enterprise. A social activism newspaper.

“Andy’s a member of the Chinese Chamber of Commerce,” she explained. “They have affiliations with organizations up the coast. Look at that headline.”

Couples Travel Long Distances to Wed in Washington

“The only state in the West that will allow different races to marry. They talk about how couples are getting around the laws in other states—a Caucasian woman claimed to have Filipino blood in order to marry her minister in Nevada. But you don’t have to lie in Washington to get a license. Did you know that?”

Bo shook his head. His throat tightened.

“Whether they honor that license here is another story, but you’ve always had a knack for outrunning the police.” She closed the clasp on her handbag and waved the newspaper away. “Keep it. Anyway, I’ve got to get to work, and I’m sure you’re busy. I just wanted to stop by.”