Verity
“You may leave now if you wish, Miss Fowler. I’ll take care of the last customers and close up.”
The brunette finished straightening a row of novels at the end of a shelf before smiling down at the bookstore’s owner. “I don’t mind.”
Samuel Latham laughed, soft blue eyes twinkling. “I know you don’t. Which is why, as your employer, I’m insisting you leave early today.”
Verity laughed. “I don’t suppose I can refuse, then,” she teased, climbing down from the stepladder. Her willingness to stay at the bookstore as long as needed had become a joke between the two of them in the months she had worked there.
“No,” he said, giving her a mock-stern look. The bell over the shop door jingled merrily as someone entered and he turned in that direction. “Now go. Enjoy yourself. You deserve it.”
“Thank you.” She smiled, pleased by the unexpected bit of praise, and retrieved her things from the back room. On her way out she waved. “Goodbye, Mr. Latham. See you in the morning.”
With a light heart she turned east to the Harlem Lodging House instead of south to Spreckler’s Pharmacy. The surprise opportunity to go home early gave her a chance to freshen up before meeting Noah there for ice cream sodas. It was quickly becoming a Wednesday tradition to have sodas at the Morningside dispensary then meet up with her twin (and often Sophie Townsend, as well) for dinner, occasionally followed by poker or pool with some of the Harlem newsies. She was glad she had suggested Noah and Andrew share an apartment; they found needed roommates in each other, and she got to see them both more often.
At the lodging house, Verity was putting the last hairpin in her chignon when she heard someone enter the bunkroom, followed by Lady Jane’s meow. Heading back to her bunk for her purse, she found her bunkmate perched on the end of her bed, cuddling the small, gray cat. They both looked up, startled, at her approach.
“Hiya, Ver. Yer home early.”
She smiled at the younger girl. “Mr. Latham let me leave early today.”
“Oh.” After a pause filled by Jane’s purring, Imp Harris asked, “Where ya goin’?”
“Meeting Noah at Spreckler’s. You come, too,” she added, seeing the wistful look on Imp’s face.
Imp shook her head, making her brown braids swing over her shoulders. “Don’t wanna bother ya.”
“You won’t. Come on. I’ll by you a chocolate-rasberry soda.” Verity smiled again at her. Despite the five-year difference in their ages, she considered Imp one of her close friends, having known her since the Harlem newsgirls shared a lodging house with the boys way back when.
It took her less than half of one second to make up her mind. “Okay!” Lady Jane scampered off her lap as she bounced up. “That is… if yer sure…”
“Of course I’m sure,” she said, laughing. “Now come on, or we’ll be late.”
Violet
“Goodby, Mr. Latham. See you in the morning.”
“Enjoy yourself, Miss Fowler.” The door gently swung shut behind her, making the bell jangle. Turning to the young lady browsing through the magazines, the bookstore owner asked, “Now what can I do for you?”
“Does she really work here?” she asked, her expression one of curious disbelief.
“Of course. Was there anything you were interested in?” Mr. Latham motioned to the variety of ladies’ magazines on display.
Violet Merriweather ignored his attempt to interest her in the latest issue of Cosmopolitan, although buying a copy had been her reason for visiting the small bookstore. Seeing Verity again reminded her just how much she disliked the other girl. “I can’t belive you’d let that street trash work for you,” she sniffed, idly picking up one of the publications before her.
“She’s one of my best employees,” he replied patiently. “She’s hard working, and loves what she’s doing. That’s enough of a recommendation for me.”
She frowned. It just wasn’t right, someone like Verity working in a respectable bookstore, while she was forced to serve drinks in a tavern of all places. It was degrading and unfair. She was far too good to be working in a place so low. And that someone like that Fowler hussy managed to find a job above hers only rubbed salt in her wounded pride. That her boss praised her was even more irksome.
After paying for her magazine, Violet sulked away. Halfway home she realized she had forgotten to pick up some things from the pharmacy, the brief run in with one of the Fowler twins had rankled her so much. With a glare at an unoffending lamppost she turned around to finish her day’s errands.
Noah
The charcol pencil danced quickly across the page, light strokes capturing the way a curl fell across her shoulder. The drawing’s unknowing subject finally picked a cold cream and moved on to the face powders. He added one last line about her frown, one last wisp of hair against her forehead, before turning to a clean page.
Sometime after he began a sketch of the soda fountain, the string of bells tied to the door jangled and two girls, one short, one tall, entered Spreckler’s, laughing. Noah didn’t have to look up to know who one was, knowing by the tones of her laugh, but he did anyway. Verity smiled as she walked over, Imp Harris in tow, and he couldn’t help but smile back.
“We’ll be right back, love,” she said, kissing him on the cheek before going to order sodas with Imp. He closed the sketch book and put away his pencils while Andrew concocted their drinks. Verity smiled over her shoulder at him, and yet again he was amazed by the way she looked at him, Noah Kingston, as if he were someone important, not just a former newsboy working as a bookstore clerk.
She and Imp returned with identical drinks, chocolate with a pink tinge to them, probably from the flavored syrup used. He moved aside the glass containing his half-finished vanilla crème.
“May I see?” Verity asked, nodding at the sketchbook.
“Of course,” he replied, sliding it over to her. Noah polished his eyeglasses, trying not to watch nervously as she studied each drawing she hadn’t seen, Imp looking on in between slurps of ice cream soda. Molly and Moira O’Roirdan arguing about Mickey, Moira’s rook. Mrs. Fisher hanging laundry. Andrew cooking. Dixie Cameron rocking her daughter in the courtyard. Jude Mahan sketching a wife and a friend of hers as they talked. And the two he had just done in the bright cheerfulness of Spreckler’s.
“You should show this one to Andrew,” she said, tapping the one of the girl inspecting beauty products, a teasing smile tugging at her lips.
Imp peered over her shoulder. “Hey, isn’t that—“
“His old girlfriend, Miss Violet Merriweather.”
The younger girl grinned, which set her green eyes sparkling. “Ah. The bug girl.”
Noah smiled. Although the incident had happened long before they met, he had heard the story about Violet and the daddy-long-legs from both of the Fowler twins. Secretly he was glad to have found someone like Verity, instead of Violet, and even more glad that she sincerely liked him in return.
Verity studied it again. “It’s a very good likeness.”
“Thanks.” Changing the subject, slightly embarrassed about her praise, he asked, “How was Mr. Latham today?”
Her eyes lit up again. “He let me leave early.” That launched a comparison of their days at the separate bookstores, peppered with stories from Imp about things she saw while roaming the streets of Harlem.
At one point Imp looked at them both and stated, “Ya know? You two should run yer own bookstore.”
Noah didn’t pay much attention to the rest of the conversation. Run his own bookstore. With Verity. Work with her every day. Surround themselves with something they both loved. Spend the evenings discussing plans for the shop.
He felt his face growing warm. They hadn’t really discussed the future that much, just enough to know that they had one together. But… that sounded nice. More than nice; heavenly. She’d say yes if he asked her to marry him, he was almost positive. He just had to get up the courage to ask her.
A comment from Verity about one of the new girls—Belinda, maybe?—brought him out of his reverie. Imp, uncharacteristically silent, busied herself with the last bits of chocolate in her glass while her bunkmate repeated the girl’s description of a very pregnant Ruby Gallagher, now Ruby O’Malley, who had introduced the two of them. When the topic changed to something else, Imp perked back up again. Noah wondered about the change in attitude, but didn’t feel comfortable enough to ask her. Verity could probably tell him later.
Andrew
Andrew whistled as he walked along Park Avenue, hands in his pockets. He got paid in two days, Sophie would be back from her vacation in one, all was good with the world.
The door to a tavern swung open, releasing the jovial laughter of the patrons within to those passing by, enticing like-minded others to join in the liquid relaxation offered in every glass. He passed, not bothering to glance over, even as the door swung open to admit a trio of men already tipsy. At the corner, he checked the flow of traffic and stepped off the curb directly into someone.
"Please have the decency to watch where you're going," the blonde sniffed.
"Miss Merriweather!" Andrew grinned. "What a pleasure to see you again!" He helped his former girlfriend to the sidewalk, enjoying the confusion on her face.
"Do I know you?"
Feigning shock, he replied, "What? You don't remember me? I could never forget you. Could I walk you to wherever you are going?"
Violet frowned, her pout just as petulant as he remembered it. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt."
He offered an arm; she didn't accept it. "How are you?" he asked politely.
"Good." That was the extent of their conversation.
When they stopped in front of Millinger's, Andrew did his best to hide his surprise. Unless her tastes had changed during the last six years, the tavern was the last place he'd associate with her. Typically she hungered after anything that would improve her social status. "Meeting someone?"
"Yes," she said shortly, tossing a blonde curl over her shoulder. That gesture, too, was just as he remembered.
He smiled. "He's very lucky."
"I don't believe I caught your name?"
The tavern door opened and a brown head stuck out. When the young man spotted the two of them, he spouted "Vi! Devin'll be mad if yer late ta work again!" before disappearing back in. She shot the door a look of barely controlled fury.
"Andrew Fowler," he replied, surpressing his grin. "Have a good evening." He sauntered off, leaving her to throw her tempertantrum for an audience of zero.
Violet
She stomped into the tavern, shooting Sebastian Quintero a glare as she passed his post by the door. How dare he announce to the world like that that she worked there! And that she was in danger of being fired! And how dare that Andrew have the nerve to publicly humiliate her once again. It was almost enough to make one swear off men, if they weren’t such fun to toy with.
“Please be on time,” was the only comment Devin Millinger made as she picked up her tray from the end of the bar. When he turned to head back to his office she made a face at his back. Before picking up a tray loaded with frothy mugs of beer, Mallory said, “Yer section A t’night.” Violet made a face behind the redhead’s back, too.
After sulking at the bar for a few minutes, she meandered over to a booth that just sat down. Pasting on her sweetest smile, she asked brightly, “What can I get you boys tonight?” A few minutes of flirtation and she sauntered back to the bar to fill their order.
The rest of her tables filled up quickly with the evening crowd, and she was almost too busy flirting to remember to be infuriated by Andrew and Sebastian’s audacity. Returning from yet another trip to refill mugs, her bad mood came crashing back when she caught sight of a familiar figure walking in the door. He paused before smirking and heading to the only empty table in section A.
“What do you want?” she snapped once she finally made it over to his table in the back, not bothering with feigned sweetness.
Joel Costello scowled back. “Whaddya think? And hurry it up. Don’t have all night.”
Just for that, Violet took her time bringing his beer, stopping to check on all her other tables, chatting (or, flirting, rather) with Matt, the evening’s bartender, doing anything but carry his drink to him. The amber liquid came dangerously close from sloshing over the top of the heavy glass mug when she set it down before him, earning her a glare. She just smiled sweetly before sashaying away. Joel Costello was one of her least favorite patrons, if only because he could be just as mean and nasty as she. When he felt especially nasty, he always made sure to sit at one of her tables, and she knew it, which only made her the nastier in return, never improving her mood. Tonight, however, she viewed his presence as a blessing instead of a curse. If she was going to spend the evening in a bad mood, at least she could get some spiteful pleasure out of it.
Andrew
Even with the delay Violet Merriweather created, he still managed to reach Annabelle’s before Noah and Verity. He grinned. They must have dawdled over their sodas, something he’d have to tease his roommate about later.
The waitress had just brought him a glass of water when Andrew spied the trio walking up the sidewalk. Imp peered in the window as she passed, and he made a face at her. She grinned and made a face back; Verity and Noah didn’t notice.
When they entered, Imp bounded over. As she slid into the booth next to him, he tugged on one braid, his custom greeting for her. “Hey, Short Stuff. How’s it goin’?”
“We had chocolate raspberry sodas!” she said brightly before adding as an afterthought, “An’ don’t call me Short Stuff!”
“So, how bad were they?” he asked nodding across the table. “Didn’t have to separate them or anything?”
“Andrew!”
Imp grinned at the twins. “Nah.”
After they gave their orders to the smiling waitress, Andrew leaned back. “Guess who I had the pleasure of running into today?” he asked, propping one elbow on the booth’s back.
Verity shook her head. “I don’t know. Mess? Or Sham, maybe.” Both boys had been friends while they had stayed in Harlem.
“Nope.” He grinned. “One Miss Violet Merriweather.”
The two girls began laughing, and Noah smiled. Andrew smiled, too, not exactly sure what they were laughing over. While he had been amused by the brief incident, he didn’t think his announcement of it was that funny.
“Noah sketched her in Spreckler’s this afternoon.”
“It looks just like ‘er, too.”
“Pout and all? You’re going to have to show me it, then,” he informed his roommate.
The story of bumping into Violet—complete with the bouncer’s words and her facial expressions—was received with more laughter. Talk turned to other things, and Andrew did his best to include Imp in the conversation. On the twins’ last visit home, Rebecca, their younger sister, had complained he always treated her like a baby, not a grown up. Since the two girls were close to the same age, he assumed Imp felt the same way.
The four took their time over dinner, finishing it with fresh strawberry pie topped with whipped cream, preferring to stay inside the air-cooled restaurant than venture back into the oppressive July heat. Finally, the waitress cleared away the last plate, Noah and Andrew paid, and they stepped into the twilight.
Noah
A small breeze from the river stirred the air, and Verity handed the paper advertising fan they had found on the bench back to Imp. “That feels good,” she murmured, resting against Noah’s shoulder.
He adjusted the angle of his arm so she would be more comfortable, also making sure he wasn’t in Imp’s way. The four were sharing a park bench along the lowest path in Riverside Park, presumably to watch the sun set beyond the Palisades and enjoy what little breeze there might be. Truth be told, Noah was paying more attention to Verity than to the sunset.
When the last rays of light disappeared from the sky and it was too dim to see anyone’s face clearly, they silently agreed it was time to go. No one spoke as they ambled back up the path until they reached Riverside Drive, and then only to complain about the think heat that enveloped them once again. Once they reached a more brightly lit section of Morningside Heights Andrew and Imp struck up a conversation about her beau, Cody McGowen, and Noah and Verity dropped back. The two strolled along in silence, hand in hand, until he brought up something that had bothered him at Spreckler’s.
“When you were repeating the description of Ruby this afternoon,” he began, trying to phrase it carefully, “she wouldn’t say anything. Why?”
“Oh, that.” Verity was quiet for a moment before continuing. “You know how Ash and Ruby and Smoke and a lot of the others have gone? And new girls have taken their places?”
He nodded.
“I think that’s it. Things are different, and they aren’t coming back again. She doesn’t like that.”
“Oh.” He could well understand the resistance to change; any newsie could. His first few months in Queens had been miserable until he accepted the fact that he couldn’t change the circumstances that brought him there. Leaving Queens for Orchard Street hadn’t been that easy, either, except for the knowledge that he still had people who cared about him, and that he was better off by doing so.
“I don’t know what she’s going to do when I leave,” she added thoughtfully.
“You’re leaving?!”
She squeezed his hand. “Not anytime soon, love.” She gave him a reassuring smile, cheeks pink, before adding, “But I’m going to eventually.”
“Good.” He squeezed her hand in return, feeling foolish about his panic. If she were planning to leave the Harlem lodging house, she would have told him. Hopefully, it would be because they married, if that day ever came.
Verity
What would Imp do when she moved out of the lodging house? Verity hadn’t seriously considered the question until now. Not that her going or staying entirely depended on what any of the other girls did, although she had once said that she’d be there as long as Fingers was there.
She thought of the younger girl as a little sister, and knew Imp looked up to her. If she could take her along when she left, Verity would. Of course, if she left because she was married, that might be difficult. Still, it was hard to imagine not having her bunkmate around.
“Imp reminds me so much of Rebecca,” she commented.
“Sometimes I wish I had a sister. Or a brother.”
“In a way you have mine. Isn’t that enough?” Verity teased.
Slightly flushed, Noah tried to frown at her, but the corners of his mouth insisted on tugging upwards. “You know what I mean.”
Ahead, Andrew and Imp glanced over their shoulders at them, then started laughing. She lifted her eyebrows. Her twin just grinned before turning back around.
“I wonder what they’re up to.”
“Does it really matter?”
Smiling at nothing in particular, they took their time walking back, enjoying the unexpected moments of privacy. While she didn’t mind her bunkmate and her twin being around, it was nice to be along with Noah for a little while, even if they did nothing but chat idly about the rest of the week. She liked hearing the mundane details of his life, just as he seemed to be in hers.
When they finally reached the lodging house, Andrew had his watch out and was tapping his foot, even though the couple hadn’t been more than a block behind. Sitting on the top step, Imp just grinned cheerfully.
“Do you know how long we’ve been waiting on you two?”
“Not nearly as long as we waited on you and Sophie last week.”
Noah added, “Or the week before.”
“Okay, you’ve got me there,” Andrew said, laughing. “Guess we’d better be heading home. G’night, sis. Still coming for supper Sunday?”
Verity nodded and he turned to Imp. “’Night, Short Stuff.”
She wrinkled her nose at him. Noah hugged her with his free arm, the other one carrying his sketchbook. After a moment’s pause, during which she turned bright pink, she hugged him back before dashing into the house. Andrew had the decency to look away while Verity and Noah kissed goodnight.
Inside, she found Imp waiting for her at the bottom of the staircase. “Why’d he have ta go an’ do that?” she demanded, frowning, still slightly pink.
Verity shrugged and started upstairs so Imp couldn’t see her smile. “He likes you.”
“Oh.” After a pause she said, “Andrew invited me an’ Cody on the picnic.”
“Good. It’ll be fun.”
“Really?” Verity couldn’t miss the hopeful note in the other girl’s voice.
“Yes. Palisades Park won’t be the same without you.”
“Oh.” She started to say more when a yawn caught her by surprise. They both laughed and continued up to the bunkroom.
As she got ready for bed later, Verity wondered how Violet’s evening had progressed. The meeting with her former boyfriend would not have put the blonde in a good mood, especially with the way in which their relationship had ended. Add in having to work for a living and her already unpleasant personality, and it made for a very bad evening indeed.
That made her smile, not out of meanness, but of gratefulness for her own evening. Spending time with people she liked and who sincerely liked her in return, what could be nicer? If it took all kinds of people to make up the world, at least she was surrounded by nice ones.
