Grave Phantoms (Roaring Twenties #3)(91)

“Daddy! It’s your float!” Astrid’s daughter said. May had just turned eight, and was unusually tall for a girl. Unusually pretty, too. She stood on the balcony’s bottom rail and peered over the top, grinning Astrid’s grin—a smile that went all the way up to eyes that looked just like her father’s.

And the man who’d given her those eyes now stood next to her, hoisting their five-year-old son in his arms. “Look, Ty,” Bo said. “Do you see it?”

Pulled by a truck, the float trailer was covered in ferns and flowers that spelled out MAGNUSSON AND YEUNG FISH COMPANY around the sides. And in the center was a giant papier-mâché representation of the company logo: a nine-tailed golden fox with a fish in its mouth. The tails moved up and down on sticks held by company employees, who walked behind the trailer.

“It looks good,” Winter said over Bo’s shoulder.

“Damn near majestic,” Lowe agreed, slinging his arm around Hadley as the children whooped and cheered around him—a lot of children. In addition to Astrid and Bo’s two, Winter and Aida had four, Stella was in her teens now, and Dr. Moon and his wife, Le-Ann’s, two girls were here, too. All of them were crammed into the small space, bobbing and jumping to see over the railing. Astrid held a Brownie camera above all the bouncing heads to snap a good photograph.

“All right, I took five shots,” she shouted as the giant fox slipped farther down the street and a new float took its place. “Hopefully one of them won’t be blurry.”

“Can we have our red envelopes now?” May asked, tugging on her dress.

A traditional Chinese New Year’s present. The red envelopes—red for luck—held money. Bo and Astrid gave them out to the entire Magnusson clan every year. Red envelopes for their Chinese side, and semla cream buns on Shrove Tuesday for their Swedish side—made by Greta and Lena.

“No envelopes until the parade’s over,” she told May.

Astrid hadn’t been able to catch her breath. She’d come straight from a meeting at the radio station that morning, but the parade route had blocked off the street and parking was a nightmare, forcing her to walk several blocks from their apartment to get here on time. And only barely. Now she pulled May closer and grinned at her husband.

“The float looked wonderful,” she said loudly.

He pointed to his ear and grinned back, but there was a question behind his eyes. She knew why, but they hadn’t been able to talk privately yet. And as she leaned over May’s head to kiss her son’s cheek, making him squirm with delight, Bo wrapped a hand around the back of her neck and spoke into her ear. “Downstairs.”

She nodded. “Stay here with your cousins,” she told May as Aida held out her hands for Ty.

“Auntie will hold you so you can see better,” she told him, and he didn’t hesitate to jump into her arms.

Astrid mouthed thank you to Aida and handed the camera to Stella before Bo grabbed her hand to lead her out of the family gathering.

Strains of music from an approaching marching band floated over the roar of the crowd as they descended the stairs into Aida’s shop. It was much quieter here. The intense punch of the parade’s din was slightly muffled by the locked door, and afternoon sun silhouetted the bodies of revelers pressing against the windows through the shades.

Bo stopped in front of a bookcase filled with titles about spiritualism and coping with bereavement, and then he turned to face her, dropping her hand to cross his arms over his chest.

“So,” he prompted.

“You know, I haven’t seen you in two days. I was hoping for a ‘Hello, dear wife. I’ve missed you while I was upstate buying a new boat.’”

“I did miss you,” he said, looking unfairly handsome in the slatted light spilling in from the shades. He’d returned from his trip while she’d been in her meeting that morning, and was still dressed casually for travel in slacks and an argyle sweater vest, the brim of his cap pulled down tight. But when she reached up to straighten the necktie peeking above the vee of his vest, he grabbed her hands. “Tell me what Girl Friday decided. I haven’t slept the entire trip.”

She hadn’t, either. Over the past ten years, she’d gone from the girl who broadcasted out of Hale Brothers department store to one of the highest paid voices in the NBC studios on Sutter Street, heard all over the West Coast every week. Her sponsor paid dearly for their corporate name tacked to her show. Her face was on the cover of Radio Stars magazine a few months back. And that was what caused all the trouble.

A rival station in Los Angeles wanted her. They offered her a considerable pay raise and a guaranteed coast-to-coast broadcast. A tempting offer, to be sure. But she’d have to move to take it—not an option for Bo. He and Winter had survived the worst years of the Depression and turned the fishing company into a success that rivaled their bootlegging days. He couldn’t leave that. His blood and sweat were in that business.

Which meant that Astrid’s only option, if she took the job offer, would be to spend a great deal of time away from her family. And though she and Bo had spent days talking over the pros and cons, he’d left the matter in her hands. Her career, her choice, he’d said. But word of the offer had leaked out, and her station manager had called a meeting in the studio that morning, forcing her to give them a decision sooner than she’d anticipated.