and I step forward, waving my hand timidly. Instantly, she swerves across the path of an oncoming carriage, causing the driver to curse and haul on the reins. "How many?"
"One," I venture.
"Meat or fruit?"
"Ah ... fruit?" Probably safer.
With a nod, she plucks a pie out of the basket. Twisting it up in brown paper, she says, "That's a nickel, love."
I fumble through my change, noticing her eyes skip downward at the clink of coins in my skirt pocket. Finally, I pull out one of the nickels Rowena gave me and place it in her square, chapped palm. She hands me the pie and the heat of it fills my hand.
"Please," I say as she's about to plunge off into the traffic again. "I'm looking for some people. The Greene family. Have you heard of them?"
But she's already shaking her head. "Sorry, dearie." Her eyes skim over me once again. "New to town?"
I nod.
"Looking for work?"
"Um..."
"Where's your family? Runaway, then?"
"Sort of," I offer at last, since it's what she's going to think anyway.
She's already nodding. "Don't you go down to Five Points. You stay away from that crowd. You don't need to go looking for work there yet. Things aren't that bad, I hope. Too many girls end up there," she sighs, and then abruptly she wheels off into the crowd again. I break off a corner of the crust and nibble it, then suddenly begin shoving large pieces of the pie in my mouth, not caring if I burn my tongue.
After wandering down Broadway for another hour and almost getting killed twice, once by a speeding two-seat carriage and once by what looked like a bus pulled by six horses, I find the nerve to pull open the door to what looks like a bar, called the Lion's Head. But once I'm inside, it's all I can do not to run out again.
The room is dim, as if the sunlight gave up trying to fight its way through the streaked and grimy windows. Smoke wreathes the low, uneven ceiling, and the floor is scattered with sawdust. Although the level of noise remains the same, all at once I can feel eyes on me. Mostly men crowd the bar and fill the tables, but here and there a few women loll on stools or drape themselves over the men's arms. Someone shrieks with laughter and I jump, my feet already turned halfway to the door. Then I straighten up, biting the inside of my cheek. Nothing's going to get done, Tamsin, if you don't try.
Channeling Rowena at her best, I walk toward the bar in what I hope looks like a calm, cool, and collected manner. I place my hands on the sticky wooden counter, widen my elbows slightly to avoid having anyone bump into me, and stare at the bartender until he slowly moves my way. Since he takes so long, I have time to notice that he's huge; his shoulders and arms look like they're carved out of rock slabs. "What'll it be?" His voice is a growl and he stares at the air over my shoulder, so I abruptly stop channeling Rowena and go for Agatha.
I give him a perky smile and say, "I'm looking for a family called the Greenes. They live around here. Have you heard of them?"
His gaze finally shifts to mine and then he gives one shake of his massive head. "No. Can't say I have."
Of course he hasn't. I sigh and review my options on finding my family. Town crier? Taking out an ad in the paper? And what paper would that even be? I bite down hard on my tongue, trying to think.
With one meaty paw, the bartender unhooks a polished glass from the rack overhead and fills it behind the bar before placing it in front of me with a surprisingly gentle motion. "Drink that. On the house," he adds as I stare up at him.
Before I can thank him, he moves away, responding to the call of another customer down at the end of the bar.
I take a cautious sip of my drink. Not bad. As I wipe foam from my upper lip, a small man in a bowler hat settles on the stool next to me. He is dressed in a gray suit with a curl of lace at each cuff that flutters as he waves one arm at the bartender. But the bartender resolutely ignores him, and so the man turns to me
"One," I venture.
"Meat or fruit?"
"Ah ... fruit?" Probably safer.
With a nod, she plucks a pie out of the basket. Twisting it up in brown paper, she says, "That's a nickel, love."
I fumble through my change, noticing her eyes skip downward at the clink of coins in my skirt pocket. Finally, I pull out one of the nickels Rowena gave me and place it in her square, chapped palm. She hands me the pie and the heat of it fills my hand.
"Please," I say as she's about to plunge off into the traffic again. "I'm looking for some people. The Greene family. Have you heard of them?"
But she's already shaking her head. "Sorry, dearie." Her eyes skim over me once again. "New to town?"
I nod.
"Looking for work?"
"Um..."
"Where's your family? Runaway, then?"
"Sort of," I offer at last, since it's what she's going to think anyway.
She's already nodding. "Don't you go down to Five Points. You stay away from that crowd. You don't need to go looking for work there yet. Things aren't that bad, I hope. Too many girls end up there," she sighs, and then abruptly she wheels off into the crowd again. I break off a corner of the crust and nibble it, then suddenly begin shoving large pieces of the pie in my mouth, not caring if I burn my tongue.
After wandering down Broadway for another hour and almost getting killed twice, once by a speeding two-seat carriage and once by what looked like a bus pulled by six horses, I find the nerve to pull open the door to what looks like a bar, called the Lion's Head. But once I'm inside, it's all I can do not to run out again.
The room is dim, as if the sunlight gave up trying to fight its way through the streaked and grimy windows. Smoke wreathes the low, uneven ceiling, and the floor is scattered with sawdust. Although the level of noise remains the same, all at once I can feel eyes on me. Mostly men crowd the bar and fill the tables, but here and there a few women loll on stools or drape themselves over the men's arms. Someone shrieks with laughter and I jump, my feet already turned halfway to the door. Then I straighten up, biting the inside of my cheek. Nothing's going to get done, Tamsin, if you don't try.
Channeling Rowena at her best, I walk toward the bar in what I hope looks like a calm, cool, and collected manner. I place my hands on the sticky wooden counter, widen my elbows slightly to avoid having anyone bump into me, and stare at the bartender until he slowly moves my way. Since he takes so long, I have time to notice that he's huge; his shoulders and arms look like they're carved out of rock slabs. "What'll it be?" His voice is a growl and he stares at the air over my shoulder, so I abruptly stop channeling Rowena and go for Agatha.
I give him a perky smile and say, "I'm looking for a family called the Greenes. They live around here. Have you heard of them?"
His gaze finally shifts to mine and then he gives one shake of his massive head. "No. Can't say I have."
Of course he hasn't. I sigh and review my options on finding my family. Town crier? Taking out an ad in the paper? And what paper would that even be? I bite down hard on my tongue, trying to think.
With one meaty paw, the bartender unhooks a polished glass from the rack overhead and fills it behind the bar before placing it in front of me with a surprisingly gentle motion. "Drink that. On the house," he adds as I stare up at him.
Before I can thank him, he moves away, responding to the call of another customer down at the end of the bar.
I take a cautious sip of my drink. Not bad. As I wipe foam from my upper lip, a small man in a bowler hat settles on the stool next to me. He is dressed in a gray suit with a curl of lace at each cuff that flutters as he waves one arm at the bartender. But the bartender resolutely ignores him, and so the man turns to me
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