saved you a seat, Maureen O’Reilly.” Mrs. Melkford patted the bench beside her.
Maureen plopped close, too weary and exasperated to more than follow orders. “What did you mean, it’s all up to me? What can I do to get Katie Rose out of there? When can I see her again?”
“I’ll check on her next week when I come across. As soon as they’re willing for her to have visitors, I’ll let you know and will make sure you see her. But you’d best hope they keep her a time.”
“And why should I be hopin’ that?”
“Because you’ve got to make certain you’re settled and employed, with a place to live, that you can take care of her—or that someone can. I can help you with that—the Society and me, that is.”
“We’ve an invitation,” Maureen said weakly.
“Yes.” Mrs. Melkford raised her brows. “Nurse Harrigan told me about your ‘invitation.’”
Maureen straightened, indignant. “It’s perfectly real. My father saved Colonel Wakefield’s life once. Colonel Wakefield is an officer and an honorable man—Da always said. He pledged to help Da, to help his child. He’ll not let us down.”
Mrs. Melkford turned her face toward Maureen and her back on the gentleman seated the other side of her. “Be that as it may, Nurse Harrigan said the letter is nearly thirty years old. Do you even know if Colonel Wakefield still lives in New York? If he’s still alive?”
Maureen looked away.
“Well—” Mrs. Melkford sat back—“tomorrow is Thanksgiving Day. If your Colonel Wakefield still resides at the address on his letter, he’ll surely be celebrating the feast at home with his family. We won’t ring or send word; we’ll just go along and see what we can learn.” She shook out the letter and read. “Hmm. Morningside . . . this address is in Gramercy Park—much closer to my home in Greenwich Village than to the Aid Society. Perhaps I’d best take you home with me, just for the holiday. We’ll be a mite cramped, but you could sleep on the settee in my parlor. I wonder if this could be—” Mrs. Melkford’s brow creased and she bit her lip. “Oh, dear—my neighbor’s grandniece. I promised her I’d come round early and help with her turkey. She’s just married, and it’s her first time cooking it on her own. Her mother’s away, and my neighbor simply can’t see well enough anymore.”
Maureen could not imagine a new bride not knowing how to roast a fowl but knew it wouldn’t do to say such a thing. “I can find my way.”
Mrs. Melkford looked doubtful, then brightened. “I suppose that’s so. If you can find your way across a vast ocean, you can manage a couple dozen New York City blocks. We’re laid out on a grid, so it’s simple enough.” She smiled, then patted Maureen’s hand sympathetically. “I’ll draw a map. But we must consider the very real possibility that things will not turn out as you anticipate.”
Maureen couldn’t think about that now. She knew she should be grateful for help, and at least Mrs. Melkford seemed an upstanding sort of lady. “Thank you for helpin’ me, mum.”
Mrs. Melkford half smiled. “You’ll need a job before you can afford a place to live.” She lowered her voice. “Nurse Harrigan said you came with no money.”
“I have money! Katie Rose and I each have a twenty-dollar gold piece Colonel Wakefield sent our da.” She felt along the front of her hemline and, finding it, whispered, “They’re sewn into our hems. He sent us more, but I needed it for the fare and food and—everythin’.”
Mrs. Melkford looked at her steadily. “You sewed a twenty-dollar gold piece into your sister’s hem?”
Maureen nodded.
Mrs. Melkford sighed. “Well, it’s not enough. Even so, you might as well say good-bye to that.”
“What do you mean?”
“They’ll wash her clothes in the hospital, my dear.” She studied Maureen, hesitated, and looked away again. “I’m sorry to say that not everyone is honorable—even in
Maureen plopped close, too weary and exasperated to more than follow orders. “What did you mean, it’s all up to me? What can I do to get Katie Rose out of there? When can I see her again?”
“I’ll check on her next week when I come across. As soon as they’re willing for her to have visitors, I’ll let you know and will make sure you see her. But you’d best hope they keep her a time.”
“And why should I be hopin’ that?”
“Because you’ve got to make certain you’re settled and employed, with a place to live, that you can take care of her—or that someone can. I can help you with that—the Society and me, that is.”
“We’ve an invitation,” Maureen said weakly.
“Yes.” Mrs. Melkford raised her brows. “Nurse Harrigan told me about your ‘invitation.’”
Maureen straightened, indignant. “It’s perfectly real. My father saved Colonel Wakefield’s life once. Colonel Wakefield is an officer and an honorable man—Da always said. He pledged to help Da, to help his child. He’ll not let us down.”
Mrs. Melkford turned her face toward Maureen and her back on the gentleman seated the other side of her. “Be that as it may, Nurse Harrigan said the letter is nearly thirty years old. Do you even know if Colonel Wakefield still lives in New York? If he’s still alive?”
Maureen looked away.
“Well—” Mrs. Melkford sat back—“tomorrow is Thanksgiving Day. If your Colonel Wakefield still resides at the address on his letter, he’ll surely be celebrating the feast at home with his family. We won’t ring or send word; we’ll just go along and see what we can learn.” She shook out the letter and read. “Hmm. Morningside . . . this address is in Gramercy Park—much closer to my home in Greenwich Village than to the Aid Society. Perhaps I’d best take you home with me, just for the holiday. We’ll be a mite cramped, but you could sleep on the settee in my parlor. I wonder if this could be—” Mrs. Melkford’s brow creased and she bit her lip. “Oh, dear—my neighbor’s grandniece. I promised her I’d come round early and help with her turkey. She’s just married, and it’s her first time cooking it on her own. Her mother’s away, and my neighbor simply can’t see well enough anymore.”
Maureen could not imagine a new bride not knowing how to roast a fowl but knew it wouldn’t do to say such a thing. “I can find my way.”
Mrs. Melkford looked doubtful, then brightened. “I suppose that’s so. If you can find your way across a vast ocean, you can manage a couple dozen New York City blocks. We’re laid out on a grid, so it’s simple enough.” She smiled, then patted Maureen’s hand sympathetically. “I’ll draw a map. But we must consider the very real possibility that things will not turn out as you anticipate.”
Maureen couldn’t think about that now. She knew she should be grateful for help, and at least Mrs. Melkford seemed an upstanding sort of lady. “Thank you for helpin’ me, mum.”
Mrs. Melkford half smiled. “You’ll need a job before you can afford a place to live.” She lowered her voice. “Nurse Harrigan said you came with no money.”
“I have money! Katie Rose and I each have a twenty-dollar gold piece Colonel Wakefield sent our da.” She felt along the front of her hemline and, finding it, whispered, “They’re sewn into our hems. He sent us more, but I needed it for the fare and food and—everythin’.”
Mrs. Melkford looked at her steadily. “You sewed a twenty-dollar gold piece into your sister’s hem?”
Maureen nodded.
Mrs. Melkford sighed. “Well, it’s not enough. Even so, you might as well say good-bye to that.”
“What do you mean?”
“They’ll wash her clothes in the hospital, my dear.” She studied Maureen, hesitated, and looked away again. “I’m sorry to say that not everyone is honorable—even in
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