Murder in Burnt Orange by Jeanne M. Dams Page A

lady!”
    â€œNorah, I am sick of being told what I may and may not do. I will do what I wish, so long as it does not put the baby at risk.” She sat down and raised her arms to Fiona, who held out her own chubby arms.
    Norah handed over the baby with a smile and a shake of her head. “The same old Hilda, I see. Mind you don’t jiggle her too much—she just ate.”
    Hilda crooned to the baby in Swedish, holding her up so she could bounce on Hilda’s knees. Fiona chuckled happily, blowing bubbles. She sat down suddenly and reached for Hilda’s earring.
    â€œOops! Anything shiny, she can’t resist. It’s very strong she is; don’t let her pull it off. Here.” Norah proffered a stuffed bear almost as big as Fiona, and the baby instantly lost interest in Hilda.
    â€œThat is a pretty toy,” said Hilda, putting Fiona on the floor, the bear clutched in her arms.
    â€œIt’s a Teddy bear. Mrs. Clem bought it for Fiona.”
    â€œMrs. Clem is a very nice lady. Norah, I need your advice.”
    â€œYou askin’ me for advice? I thought you knew everything. Fiona, don’t bite off Teddy’s ear, there’s a darlin’ girl.”
    â€œAlways you say that. I do not say I know everything; I say I am smart. There is much I do not know, but I know where to find out. Norah, what should I do? Patrick is angry with me, and he will be more angry when he knows I have come here, but I have done nothing wrong.”
    Norah sighed and picked up her daughter, who was beginning to fuss. Rocking the baby, Norah said, “You’d better tell me all about it.”
    Briefly, Hilda recounted her search for information about the train wrecks and possible union involvement. “And I do this only because Mama and Aunt Molly asked me to. And if I asked John Bolton to come to the house, it was because I needed to talk to him, and I could not go to him. You know I would do nothing wrong. Why does Patrick not understand?”
    â€œHe doesn’t understand because he’s jealous, for a start, and because this pokin’ around you’re doin’ might get you in bad trouble. Now don’t get your dander up! I know you don’t want to be told what to do, but you did ask me for advice. So my advice is this: be extra nice to Patrick when he comes home for lunch. Don’t say anything about yesterday, or about trains or unions or anythin’ else that’d set him off. He’s as stubborn as you, remember. He won’t admit he was wrong if you argue with him, but he might if you let it go. And don’t tell him you came over here!”
    â€œHe will know. He knew about John. I do not know how, but servants know everything and they talk, and Mr. O’Rourke brought him home from the store yesterday.”
    â€œHmm. Well, so tell him, but say I sent for you, that Fiona was colicky, or I was sick—no, don’t tell him that, he’ll be afraid you’ll catch somethin’. Just say I sent for you and you came because you were afraid somethin’ was wrong with Fiona.”
    â€œEileen knows you did not send for me.”
    â€œYou can talk her around. I’m bettin’ she’s mad at Patrick. Now, I’m bettin’, too, that you didn’t come all the way over here just to talk about a spat with Patrick.”
    â€œYou are right. You are right almost as often as I am. I want to know, what does Sean say about unions and strikes?”
    â€œThere’s no union at Studebaker’s, never has been.”
    â€œThis I know, Norah. But what do the men think about unions?”
    â€œI reckon if they thought much of ’em, they’d organize one. You know Mr. Clem always treated the men right, and now Colonel George and J.M. do, too. Not that Colonel George has much to do with runnin’ the place, it’s mostly J.M. When the factory has trouble, it’s when some other place goes on strike, and