Brooklyn Legacies by Triss Stein

Author:Triss Stein
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sourcebooks
Published: 2019-10-20T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

It took a day of work, stopping to check for messages way too often, followed by an evening at home and an after-dinner walk to the supermarket, just because I was so distracted.

In the end, it was not my little bribe or my little threat that got a response. It was Louisa Gibbs, and I kicked myself for not doing that first.

Late that night, a call without even a hello. It began with an abrupt, “Louisa told me to talk to you. She says you are good people. I can meet for coffee tomorrow before work. I start work at 7:00.” She named a small café on a Heights side street.

I said yes before thinking how much I did not want to begin a working day at 6:00. I’d have to take the bus or subway. I’d never find parking around there. Much as I dreaded it all, I was elated, too. Answers would be mine. I set my alarm, announced to my family that I would be out at the crack of dawn. I pretended I didn’t hear Joe’s “You? Up before me? Never.”

It was so early the café was nearly empty. The caffeine-seeking crowds on the way to the day job weren’t out yet, only the occasional early morning runner. Nancy sat in the back, her own large mug tight in hand. I ordered a muffin and an even larger mug, and joined her.

“What is it that you want from me?” Her words were wary, but her expression was not hostile. Or defensive. Then again, maybe I wasn’t awake enough to read it. “Louisa said I’d be safe talking to you, but that depends.”

“Would you like to share the muffin?” It was huge. I hoped she would say yes, but she shook her head.

“I have a long, demanding day, doing what I am comfortable with, in addition to this, that I am not comfortable with at all, so I had a great big breakfast before the sun was up. This is a favor to Louisa.”

“I was so impressed to meet her. She was a big influence…” Instantly, Nancy looked impatient, and I stopped my babbling.

“I’m sort of trying to help her. You talked about the Witnesses next door. Can I ask you more questions?’

“That was my mistake. I never, ever talk about that. It’s all in the long-ago past. I don’t think…ah, hell, I’m here. Ask, but there’s not much to tell. And no promises that I’ll answer, either.” She sighed. “The truth is that mostly they are good neighbors. I hate to admit that, but most people would say so. Clean sidewalks, fall and winter. Keep up the buildings well. How do you think I learned my skills?” She laughed at my surprise. “Not that they let girls do men’s work, but I tagged around after my father, who was a master carpenter. Their way is to do every task the best way possible. And no loud parties and no garbage on the street, either. Like I said, good neighbors.

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