The Rose Keeper (Windy City Hearts Book 2) by Leo Jennifer Lamont

Author:Leo, Jennifer Lamont
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Mountain Majesty Media
Published: 2021-03-15T00:00:00+00:00

25

June 1915

“Aneta, you eat so fast, you make yourself sick,” Mama scolded in her thick Eastern European accent. “Slow down.”

“I’ve got to hurry, Mama,” my sister said. “The gang will be here any minute. There’s a new play opening at the Colonial tonight, and we don’t want to be late.”

“Your friends will wait,” Papa said mildly. “Now, eat your soup.”

Aneta’s pretty mouth turned down at the corners, and she dramatically pushed her bowl away. “It’s too hot out for all this heavy food, anyway. Who eats liver dumpling soup and roast pork in the middle of June? At Marguerite’s house, they’re having cold shrimp salad and iced tea.”

My sister and I didn’t see eye-to-eye on very many things, but on the matter of the menu, I had to agree. Normally a hearty eater, I felt my appetite wither in the heat and could only pick at the food on my plate.

Mama clucked her tongue. “Cold salad no stick to your ribs. You’ll be hungry again in an hour.”

“You girls will eat what is placed before you,” Papa said, gesturing toward Aneta’s bowl as if she were seven instead of seventeen. With a great show of reluctance, she sighed and picked up her spoon.

“Chilled food is the way proper Americans eat when it’s this hot outside.”

Aneta had a knack for turning virtually any topic into a lesson for our parents on the American style of doing things. The stubborn way they clung to their old-country ways embarrassed her deeply. I didn’t mind it as much, except when it came to some of my mother’s silly superstitions, another old-country leftover. My training was in science. I had no patience for superstition, but a streak of mischief inspired me to make a joke of it now, just to annoy my sister.

“You’re not going to the Colonial, are you?” I stage-whispered to Aneta, with a sidelong glance at Mama to make sure she heard. “Didn’t the Colonial used to be the Iroquois? Where that terrible fire happened years ago and all those people died?”

Mama’s hand flew to her mouth. “Fire? There was a fire in the theater? You no go, Aneta. Is bad luck.”

My sister scowled at me. “Thanks a lot,” she muttered. To Mama she said, “It’ll be fine. The fire was a very long time ago, and they’ve completely rebuilt the theater with all kinds of safety equipment.”

I tried to stifle my laughter, but it burst out as a snort.

With her forehead still furrowed, Mama glanced at me and realized she was being teased. She jabbed a finger toward my plate.

“Eat.”

I ate.

“Papa,” Aneta said, idly stirring her soup, “have you heard anything more about the company picnic? A lot of my friends are going.”

Papa nodded. “The picnic has been a big topic of conversation at the plant.”

“Not to mention around the Janacek dinner table,” I muttered. Aneta had been bringing it up at least once a day.

“The Hawthorne Club has been pushing ticket sales at the plant,” Papa said.

I turned to him. “So did you buy some? Are we going? If so, I’ll ask for the day off.

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