Sarah was beginning to think she ought to at least mention that she should be going home when they heard someone running up the stairs. The light footsteps clattered down the hall as Maria jumped up to caution whoever was coming to be quiet.
“You will wake the baby,” she warned Valentina, who stopped dead at the sight of Maria and Sarah in the parlor doorway.
“I don’t care if I do wake him,” Valentina informed them.
“I hate that baby. I wish it had never been born!”
“You are a wicked girl,” Maria replied in a tone that told Sarah she’d said those words many times before. “Why are you running in the house? You are too old to act like a child.”
“I’m trying to get away from all the yelling downstairs,”
she said petulantly. “Everybody’s screaming at everybody else, and it’s making my head hurt.”
“Who is screaming?” Maria asked with a frown.
“Zio Ugo and Mama and Joe and Lorenzo. Zio was so mad at them that he forgot to bring me a present. He always brings me a present!” she added in outrage.
“Why are they arguing?”
Valentina’s young face twisted into an ugly smile. “About you. And that baby. Zio wants to throw it in the river!”
Maria made a strangled sound in her throat and grabbed Valentina by the shoulders. “Liar!” she cried, forgetting her own admonition about waking the baby. “You should burn in hell!”
“That’s what he said!” Valentina insisted, and Maria gave her a violent shake.
Valentina tried to twist free, but Maria shook her again, making her teeth snap together.
“Lorenzo won’t let him, though,” the girl quickly admitted, frightened now. “That’s why they’re fighting. Lorenzo and Joe, they said you were keeping it.”
Maria thrust the girl aside and fairly ran down the hallway to the stairs. Sarah stared after her helplessly. This was none of her business, and she certainly couldn’t do anything to help. She turned back to Valentina, who was rubbing her arms where Maria had grabbed her.
“Would your uncle really kill the baby?” she asked.
“How should I know? It’s just a little bastard. It doesn’t belong to anybody here.”
“He belongs to Maria now,” Sarah said.
“I don’t care if he does or not. He’s a lot of trouble, and he makes too much noise, and Zio Ugo never forgot to bring me a present before he came along.”
She really was a wicked girl, Sarah decided.
They both heard a tiny mewling sound coming from Maria’s bedroom.
Valentina made a disgusted sound and stalked off to her own bedroom, slamming the door behind her. Sarah went to see about the baby.
He lay in his cradle, staring intently at the flowers on the wallpaper, and Sarah watched him for a few long moments. Few newborns were even attractive. The birth process usually left them with temporarily misshapen heads, and immaturity made their features indistinct. This baby was among the fortunate ones, however. Perhaps because he was so chubby and had such thick curly hair, he looked like a tiny cherub.
As she watched him lying contentedly, an idea formed in her mind. She went to the pile of baby clothes that Nainsi and Maria had prepared and found a bright yellow gown with satin ribbon ties. Then she picked the baby up and started to change him. A few minutes later, she donned her cloak, picked up her medical bag with one hand while holding the baby tucked in her other arm and started down the stairs.
She could hear the raised voices and knew the argument was still going on. The words were in Italian, but she could tell from the tone of them that Ugo was trying to prevail.
When she reached the bottom of the steps, she drew a forti-fying breath and pushed the door open.
Her sudden appearance had the happy effect of silencing everyone in the dining room. The unhappy consequence was that everyone’s attention immediately turned to her. They weren’t pleased about being interrupted, and when they saw who the intruder was, they were even less pleased. Sarah had a fleeting memory of Malloy’s warning that Ugo Ruocco would kill his own mother. Then she forced her face into an apologetic smile.
“Excuse me for intruding, but I really need to be going,” she said. Then she looked at Maria. “The baby woke up, and I didn’t want to leave him alone upstairs so I brought him down.”
She lifted her arm slightly, displaying him to his best advantage. She’d fluffed his curls with her fingers and the yellow gown was darling. He was still gazing around in wide-eyed wonder at this new and fascinating world. Then, as if he were aware of her plan and had waited until everyone was staring at him, he smiled with all the sweet innocence of a newborn.
Mrs. Ruocco made a small sound, and Maria swooped in to claim him, taking him from Sarah with loving hands and cradling him to her chest protectively.
“I saw that little gown, and I couldn’t resist trying it on him,” Sarah confessed.
“I made it,” Maria said with a touch of pride and more than a touch of possessiveness. She looked up defiantly at Ugo. “For my son.”
One of the boys said something in Italian and walked over to stand with Maria, but to Sarah’s surprise, it was Lorenzo, not Joe. Only after Lorenzo glared at him did Joe join his brother beside Maria, shamefaced but presenting a united front.
Mrs. Ruocco still stood on the far side of the room, her face twisted in anger. She said something to Ugo in challenge, and Sarah didn’t need to speak the language to understand that she was daring Ugo to tear his family apart.
Sarah watched his broad face flood with rage, but he threw up his hands in surrender as a curse exploded from his lips. He pointed a finger at Mrs. Ruocco and gave her some sort of warning, then turned to leave, but he paused for a moment when Sarah came into his line of vision. His eyes narrowed with hatred, and Sarah couldn’t stop the frisson of fear that tingled up her spine before he completed his turn and stalked out of the restaurant. A phalanx of his minions closed around him as he strode down the street.
Only then did Sarah realize she’d been holding her breath, and she let it out in a whoosh.
“Grazie,” Maria said, looking up in gratitude—at Lorenzo.
He didn’t reply. He just gave his brother a look that spoke of how disappointed he was that Joe hadn’t jumped to his wife’s defense. Joe looked down at Maria, but she was fussing with the baby and didn’t spare him a glance.
“I really must be going,” Sarah repeated. “Maria, if you need anything, send for me.”
“Oh, Mrs. Brandt, thank you so much for coming,”
Maria said earnestly. “I will never forget you!”
“Remember to make sure the bottles are clean and boiled each time you use them. I’ll stop in and check on you in a few days, if I don’t hear from you before that.”
“Wait,” Mrs. Ruocco said. “You will take some cannoli with you.”
After a few more minutes spent wrapping the cannoli and thanking Sarah again and again, they finally let her go.
By then customers had started arriving for supper, and Sarah had to work her way through the crowd gathering at the door to get out into the street.
She couldn’t help glancing around to make sure Ugo Ruocco wasn’t waiting for her outside, but she saw no sign of him. She did see a few young men loitering on the corner, smoking cigarettes and eyeing everyone who walked by with suspicion. They would be more of Ugo’s men, set to guard the restaurant from another invasion of Irish hoodlums.
As she walked down Mulberry Street, she gave a moment’s thought to stopping at the mission, but she’d already been away from home all day. She missed Aggie, and the thought of having supper with her tonight was much too inviting. She had just crossed Prince Street, within a block of Police Headquarters, when she saw a familiar face in the crowd approaching her.
“Mrs. Brandt,” Frank Malloy said with just a trace of cen-sure. He glanced up at the direction from which she’d come and frowned. “I don’t suppose you were delivering a baby in Little Italy today.”
Sarah tried to look innocent. “As a matter of fact, Maria Ruocco sent for me. The baby wasn’t doing well.
