bottom. Then she wouldn’t suffer the groping hands of those men on the subway. She could still offer her parents a small portion of her wages as before. To cover emergencies or her mother’s special liniment.
“I more than appreciate your generous offer. Do you need an answer now, or can I discuss this with Janet once she’s feeling better?”
“Janet!” A sour expression smudged across the woman’s rouged lips and face. “She has a bit of a drinking problem.” Eloise lowered her voice to barely above a whisper. “Or so I’ve been told. Can’t have that type of woman living on my husband’s property.”
Drinking problem? Moira’s thoughts tumbled about like the hoodlums in the alleyways. “I’ll think about your offer. I never knew this about Janet. She tells me most everything.”
“Not this time, she didn’t. Her family says she has the grippe, but I know otherwise. You know she still does a bit of our tailoring work when we get behind. Well, one of our employees spied her coming out of a speakeasy. Told me all about it the other day.” Eloise’s narrow, dark-blonde eyebrows arched with each word she spoke. “The law needs to take a closer look at those filthy places, but I digress. She was with a man. Several times he had to catch her to keep her from falling over herself in drunken disarray.”
No. She wouldn’t believe such nonsense. Moira longed to clamp her hands over her ears to blot out this busybody’s comments.
“I didn’t know. Let you know my decision...Monday.”
“Fine, fine.” Mrs. VanMuir patted her arm. “You’d do better to keep away from such riff-raff. Those people will steal you blind. All their money goes for liquor and…”
As though thinking the wiser of revealing any further thoughts, Eloise VanMuir headed toward the front entrance, leaving a trail of bitter words, lavender and suspense behind.
* * * *
Two thick dollops of chocolate syrup landed in the bottom of the tall soda glass, followed by a liberal pour of ice-cold milk. Moira’s stomach rumbled. How good the creamy confection would feel sliding down her sore throat.
Without pausing, the soda jerk siphoned a precise jet of Selzer into the glass. The milky mixture foamed and sizzled.
Moira accepted and tasted her treat. Mmmmm. Almost as good as Reilly’s kisses, but the paper straw didn’t feel as nice against her wet lips. Why had she let him kiss her last night? Surely, it wasn’t a sin? By age twenty-three, most women had done a lot more than kiss a man. A whole heck of a lot more.
“How is it?” Reilly inquired, taking a long draught of his own egg cream.
“Really good, and yours?”
He didn’t answer but stared at her face for several heartbeats. Must be the mess she’d made of her mouth. Before she licked away the froth, he intervened and traced his tongue across the smear. A fire flared deep within her womb at his boldness. In public yet.
Moira jerked back and almost sailed off the stool. Her emotions in turmoil, she struggled to regain her composure and posture. Dampness developed between her legs. Even crossing them didn’t help. That only made it worse, especially when she squeezed her thighs together tighter. Funny, she’d never been sensitive down there before meeting Reilly. Moira silently cursed her wicked thoughts. Already she’d forgotten her confession at St. Pat’s and was accumulating a slew of other sins to present to Father Shanahan at next visit.
“Best egg cream I ever tasted. Glad Russ and Jim watch the shop when I’m away.” Reilly drained the last of his drink.
No wonder women pay him attention. They probably follow him home. He’s so smooth and dresses too well to live in Lower Manhattan or the Five Points district.
“They must be good workers. How’d you know this place?”
“Oh, I have friends all over the city. Some of those friends will be at Uncle Morgan’s party Monday night. I could use a pretty face at my side. If you’ll agree?”
Her
“I more than appreciate your generous offer. Do you need an answer now, or can I discuss this with Janet once she’s feeling better?”
“Janet!” A sour expression smudged across the woman’s rouged lips and face. “She has a bit of a drinking problem.” Eloise lowered her voice to barely above a whisper. “Or so I’ve been told. Can’t have that type of woman living on my husband’s property.”
Drinking problem? Moira’s thoughts tumbled about like the hoodlums in the alleyways. “I’ll think about your offer. I never knew this about Janet. She tells me most everything.”
“Not this time, she didn’t. Her family says she has the grippe, but I know otherwise. You know she still does a bit of our tailoring work when we get behind. Well, one of our employees spied her coming out of a speakeasy. Told me all about it the other day.” Eloise’s narrow, dark-blonde eyebrows arched with each word she spoke. “The law needs to take a closer look at those filthy places, but I digress. She was with a man. Several times he had to catch her to keep her from falling over herself in drunken disarray.”
No. She wouldn’t believe such nonsense. Moira longed to clamp her hands over her ears to blot out this busybody’s comments.
“I didn’t know. Let you know my decision...Monday.”
“Fine, fine.” Mrs. VanMuir patted her arm. “You’d do better to keep away from such riff-raff. Those people will steal you blind. All their money goes for liquor and…”
As though thinking the wiser of revealing any further thoughts, Eloise VanMuir headed toward the front entrance, leaving a trail of bitter words, lavender and suspense behind.
* * * *
Two thick dollops of chocolate syrup landed in the bottom of the tall soda glass, followed by a liberal pour of ice-cold milk. Moira’s stomach rumbled. How good the creamy confection would feel sliding down her sore throat.
Without pausing, the soda jerk siphoned a precise jet of Selzer into the glass. The milky mixture foamed and sizzled.
Moira accepted and tasted her treat. Mmmmm. Almost as good as Reilly’s kisses, but the paper straw didn’t feel as nice against her wet lips. Why had she let him kiss her last night? Surely, it wasn’t a sin? By age twenty-three, most women had done a lot more than kiss a man. A whole heck of a lot more.
“How is it?” Reilly inquired, taking a long draught of his own egg cream.
“Really good, and yours?”
He didn’t answer but stared at her face for several heartbeats. Must be the mess she’d made of her mouth. Before she licked away the froth, he intervened and traced his tongue across the smear. A fire flared deep within her womb at his boldness. In public yet.
Moira jerked back and almost sailed off the stool. Her emotions in turmoil, she struggled to regain her composure and posture. Dampness developed between her legs. Even crossing them didn’t help. That only made it worse, especially when she squeezed her thighs together tighter. Funny, she’d never been sensitive down there before meeting Reilly. Moira silently cursed her wicked thoughts. Already she’d forgotten her confession at St. Pat’s and was accumulating a slew of other sins to present to Father Shanahan at next visit.
“Best egg cream I ever tasted. Glad Russ and Jim watch the shop when I’m away.” Reilly drained the last of his drink.
No wonder women pay him attention. They probably follow him home. He’s so smooth and dresses too well to live in Lower Manhattan or the Five Points district.
“They must be good workers. How’d you know this place?”
“Oh, I have friends all over the city. Some of those friends will be at Uncle Morgan’s party Monday night. I could use a pretty face at my side. If you’ll agree?”
Her
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