Cinnamon Moon by Tess Hilmo

Author:Tess Hilmo
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Farrar, Straus and Giroux (BYR)

13

Miss Franny slaps her ankle as I finish wiping down the breakfast table Monday morning and says, “I think that was a flea.”

“You don’t have house pets. Everyone knows fleas can’t live without a host animal, especially in December.”

“That is true, and you are a lazy rat. A rat who brings fleas into my house.” She pinches another nonexistent flea from her skirt and says, “You probably picked them up from that O’Leary family.”

I think of Mrs. O’Leary. I stopped by to check on her, but she wouldn’t come to the door. “Mrs. O’Leary has locked herself up in her house and won’t even come outside anymore,” I say. “I haven’t seen her in weeks.”

“A woman that filthy doesn’t have to come out of her house to give you fleas. Just walking on her side of the road is enough.”

It is a horrible thing to say and Miss Franny knows it. Catherine and Patrick O’Leary were completely exonerated from any charges related to Chicago’s fire. The commission found no evidence they were in the barn and said the fire could have been started by any number of things, including a stray spark from a chimney or a passerby with a pipe.

Miss Franny is aware of the facts but, along with most of Chicago, wants to keep believing that the O’Learys are guilty.

“Is there anything more I can do before I leave?” I ask, ignoring her comment.

“Are the chickens fed?”

“Yes.”

“And their coop cleaned?”

“I cleaned it yesterday.”

She thinks a bit. “What about the kitchen and dishes?”

“Finished.”

“Ironing?”

“Folded and put on the hall table.”

“Fine, go. But watch where you walk and what you pick up along the way. Fleas were not part of the deal when you were given a room.”

“Quinn and I don’t have a room. You make us sleep on the floor.” The yellow-toothed boarder is gone and another hasn’t come, but she still makes us sleep on the front rug.

She slaps at her ankle again. “Which is why my floor is now covered with bloodsucking fleas.”

Two women boarders start down the stairs. Miss Franny stands up tall and whispers, “Go on before you scare away my paying customers with that cabbage face of yours.”

“I’m leaving,” I say, taking my coat from the nail by the back door and going outside to meet Quinn.

Sam is helping him chop the wood.

“Why do you love Miss Franny?” I ask him.

He stops chopping. “Who said anything about love?”

“I saw you put your arms around her.”

“Fran and I have a sort of symbiotic relationship. We lean on each other because we have no one else.”

“You have me and Quinn.”

“Not exactly what I mean, but thanks all the same.” He swings his ax down into another log. “Even the hardest woman has a soft side. It just takes the right man to find it.”

“Any word on Nettie yet?” I ask him, wanting to change the subject. Sam has been asking around at various pubs, listening to the news that slides along the underbelly of the city.

“Not yet, but I’m keeping my ear to the ground.

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