it could dry thoroughly, she went to the kitchen to start a fire in the stove. It was burning well by the time she heard Mrs. Ellsworth’s knock.
Mrs. Ellsworth must have been even more impressed by her request than Sarah had thought for her to be using the front door, as if this were a formal visit. She usually came to the kitchen door.
When Sarah admitted her, she saw the rain had started up again, and Mrs. Ellsworth was half-hidden beneath an enormous black umbrella. The old woman closed it and shook it out on the front stoop, then came inside.
“We can set it here by mine to dry,” Sarah offered, reaching for the umbrella. Mrs. Ellsworth made a strangled sound of alarm, pointing in wordless horror.
Sarah looked where she was pointing, expecting to see that a poisonous snake had somehow crawled into her foyer. Instead all she saw was her own umbrella dripping quietly onto the floor.
“You can’t open an umbrella in the house!” Mrs. Ellsworth informed her, appalled. She hastily dropped her own onto the floor and snatched up Sarah’s to close it. “What were you thinking?”
She’d been thinking it would dry more quickly if it were opened, but of course she didn’t say that to Mrs. Ellsworth. “I suppose that’s bad luck,” she guessed. Mrs. Ellsworth’s superstitions were legion.
“It certainly is,” she said, clutching the offending object to her as if she could shelter it from the evil spirits that might be ready to descend.
“I had no idea,” Sarah admitted apologetically. “I’ll be more careful in the future.” Then she reached down to pick up the umbrella that Mrs. Ellsworth had dropped in her haste to rescue Sarah’s.
“Don’t touch that!” Mrs. Ellsworth cried, startling Sarah all over again. She jumped and hastily straightened, holding both hands up to prove she had obeyed the command.
“It can’t be bad luck just to pick up an umbrella, can it?” she asked in amazement.
“It’s bad luck to let someone else pick up an umbrella you’ve dropped,” she explained as if to a child, bending to pick up it up herself. “Of course, now that I remember, the bad luck is that you’ll become a spinster for the rest of your life. Since I’m not in any danger of becoming a spinster, I suppose it’s all right after all,” she added in amusement.
“I suppose so,” Sarah agreed, taking both umbrellas from her and setting them in the umbrella stand beside the door. When Mrs. Ellsworth made no further protest, Sarah assumed this was a safe way to deal with them. “Come into the kitchen. I was just going to put the kettle on.”
“I must say I’m intrigued,” Mrs. Ellsworth said as she followed Sarah through her front office and into the back of the house. “I can’t imagine what you might need my advice about.”
Sarah put the kettle on, and the two women seated themselves at Sarah’s kitchen table. “Remember I went to visit the Prodigal Son Mission last Sunday?” she began.
“Oh, yes,” Mrs. Ellsworth said with elaborate casualness. “With Mr. Dennis, I believe,” she added expectantly.
Sarah bit back a smile. She wasn’t going to explain her relationship with Richard to the mother of one of Richard’s employees. “Yes, he accompanied me there.” She proceeded to tell her neighbor about meeting Emilia at the mission and then how Malloy had found her body in the park wearing Sarah’s clothing.
“That poor man! It must have been a shock to him, thinking you were dead,” she observed.
Such a shock that he actually hugged Sarah the next time he saw her, but she didn’t mention that to her neighbor. Mrs. Ellsworth already had too many romantic notions about Detective Sergeant Frank Malloy. “No one knew who she was, so he came here to find out how she might have gotten my clothes. I was able to identify her.”
“Do they have any idea who might have killed her?”
“Emilia had been involved with several disreputable men before she went to live at the mission, but I really don’t know what Malloy has found out about them. You see, he was so…” Sarah searched for the proper word. “… distressed by seeing the dead girl in my clothing that he forbade me from having anything to do with the investigation.”
“He’s right, you know. Those Italians are dangerous people.” She pronounced it
Sarah seriously doubted that, but she simply nodded her understanding. “Do you know anything about the Black Hand?”
“Only what I read in the newspapers. I don’t know what this world is coming to! We should never allow people like that into our country.”
“Mrs. Ellsworth, everyone in our country came from someplace else at one time or another,” Sarah reminded her gently.
“I know that!” Mrs. Ellsworth said, a little indignant. “I just meant we shouldn’t allow
Sarah was beginning to wonder why she’d thought Mrs. Ellsworth could help her with her dilemma. Mercifully, she noticed the water was boiling, so she got up and fixed the tea. By the time she’d filled the pot and set it and the cups on the table, she figured enough time had passed so she could broach the subject she really wanted to discuss.
“Malloy has forbidden me to help him in this investigation, but I still feel like I need to do something to help,” she began while they waited for the tea to steep. “Because I feel so guilty.”
“Guilty? What on earth for?” Mrs. Ellsworth asked in amazement.
“I’m not sure. Ever since I visited the mission, I’ve had this feeling that I’m not doing anything important with my life.”
“That’s nonsense! I’m sure there are hundreds of mothers in the city who think you’re doing something extremely important.”
Sarah frowned. “Bringing babies into the world alive is just the beginning. Think about how many infants are abandoned or killed and how many children end up living on the streets because their families throw them out.”
“You can’t save them all, my dear. One person can only do so much.”
“That’s just it. I don’t feel that I’m doing anything at all.”
“What could you possibly do?”
This was what Sarah had been fretting about and why she’d asked her neighbor to come over. “I was thinking perhaps I should volunteer to help out at the mission, the way Mr. Dennis’s wife did.”
The older woman frowned, considering. “What did Mrs. Dennis do there?”
“I’m not sure. I think she may have taught the girls needlework or something like that.”
“Do you do needlework?”
“Heavens, no, but I could teach them something I do know. Like hygiene, how to keep themselves and their homes clean and free of disease. Things like that.”
“Don’t their mothers teach them those things?” Mrs. Ellsworth asked in all sincerity.
“Many of them don’t have mothers,” Sarah said tactfully. She didn’t want to explain all the reasons the poor lived in squalor. Mrs. Ellsworth’s opinion of “foreigners” was already low enough.
“In that case, I’m sure they would appreciate knowing such things. In fact, I’m surprised they don’t already have someone teaching those things at the mission.”
“Perhaps they do. I guess I’ll find out when I offer my services.”
“Is that what you wanted my advice about?” Mrs. Ellsworth asked. “Because if it was, I don’t think I was much help!”
“You were a tremendous help,” Sarah assured her. “I think I just needed to hear someone else say it was a good idea.”
“My dear Mrs. Brandt, I’m sure you’ve never had a bad idea in your life,” Mrs. Ellsworth said with a smile as Sarah picked up the pot and began to pour their tea.
Thinking of the ideas she’d had yesterday, about visiting Emilia’s family members to find out who might have killed her, she smiled in return. “I’ve had my share, I promise you.”
“Oh, look,” Mrs. Ellsworth said, pointing at the tea leaf floating on the surface of Sarah’s cup. “That means you’re going to have a visitor.”
“Can you read my tea leaves to find out who it will be?” Sarah asked good-naturedly.
Mrs. Ellsworth closed her eyes and pretended to go into a trance. “I see a man who asks a lot of questions.
