baby.”
“But the law—”
“Morally, they have no right to it,” he insisted. “Especially if somebody in their family killed Nainsi . . . or ordered it done.”
Sarah felt tears stinging her eyes as fury flooded her. “You can’t just pass a baby around like it’s a . . . a loaf of bread!”
“We’re going to give him to his grandmother, his only known relative,” he pointed out reasonably.
“You’ll never convince Maria to give him up,” she warned him furiously.
“I know,” he said. “That’s why you have to do it.”
9
Frank hadn’t expected Sarah to give in so easily, which made him really suspicious. “You do understand what you need to do, don’t you?” he asked her as they rode downtown toward Little Italy in a Hansom cab.
“Of course I do. You made it very clear. I’ll have a few sharp words to say to Commissioner Roosevelt when next we meet, though.”
Frank was sure she would. “He’s got to do what’s best for the city,” Frank tried. “Innocent people are getting hurt in the riots. It’s only a matter of time before somebody gets killed. It could even be one of the Ruoccos. Or maybe they’ll burn the restaurant and half the street down.”
“You can stop explaining. I understand, Malloy,” she said tartly. “That doesn’t mean I have to like it, though.”
She didn’t have to add that she didn’t like it. That was obvious. They rode the rest of the way through the city in uneasy silence. Frank hoped she was thinking about what she would say to the Ruoccos, and he hoped it would be convincing.
The cab dropped them off at the corner.
“What if they aren’t home?” Sarah asked uneasily.
“They’ll be getting ready for the lunch customers,” he pointed out.
She looked around, noticing the signs of last night’s riot.
He could see her shock and was glad for it. Maybe that would soften her up a bit.
“Come on,” he urged. “Let’s get this over with.”
The front door was locked and the shades drawn, so he knocked. He saw Sarah eyeing the patch on the door frame where it had been ripped out last night. The edge of the window shade moved a bit, as if someone was peering out to see who was there, and then the door opened.
“Mrs. Brandt,” Lorenzo said in surprise. Then his gaze cut to Frank, and his eyes darkened with suspicion. “What are you doing here?” he asked Frank.
“We need to speak with you, Lorenzo,” Sarah said before Frank could answer. “We need to speak with your whole family, all together.”
“Mama said not to let the police in,” he protested.
“Mr. Malloy is escorting me today, to make sure I’m safe because of the trouble last night. I have something to explain to you, something that could end all this trouble and get your lives back to the way they were before. Please, Lorenzo. It’s very important.”
Lorenzo looked unconvinced, but he said, “Come in. I’ll ask Mama.”
He locked the door behind them and then went to the kitchen, leaving Sarah and Frank standing in the empty dining room.
“They did a good job getting the place cleaned up,”
Frank observed. The patch job on the front door would do for now, and all the debris was gone.
“I can’t believe the mob actually broke down the door,”
she said.
“They only broke it in, not down. Next time they’ll probably smash the windows and loot the place.”
She gave him a murderous glare, but luckily, Mrs. Ruocco came out of the kitchen like a small whirlwind, with Lorenzo and Joe right behind her.
“What you want?” she demanded of Frank. “I tell you go home, not bother us!”
“Mrs. Brandt is the one who wants to talk to you,” Frank defended himself, taking a step backward to show he was no part of it.
“How is the baby doing?” Sarah asked, skillfully divert-ing her attention.
Mrs. Ruocco forced herself to be polite to Sarah. “The goat milk is good for him. He sleep now.”
“That’s wonderful,” Sarah said with genuine relief. “And Maria? Is she getting enough rest?”
Mrs. Ruocco shrugged one shoulder.
“She’s doing better now that the baby is sleeping,”
Lorenzo reported, earning a disapproving look from his mother.
“Is she here?” Sarah asked with the kind of confidence that had to have been bred into her for generations. “I’d like for her to hear what I have to say, too.”
“Is about baby?” Mrs. Ruocco asked suspiciously.
“It’s about the trouble you’ve been having,” Sarah said.
“I think we can put an end to it, but Maria should be here before I explain.”
Mrs. Ruocco studied her for a long moment, probably trying to judge her sincerity. Apparently satisfied, she gave Joe a nod, and he went hurrying away up the stairs to find his wife.
“We are busy cooking for customer,” Mrs. Ruocco warned while they waited. “We must earn living.”
“Of course,” Sarah agreed. “I won’t take up very much of your time, but I know you’re anxious to stop these riots.”
No one spoke, and in the silence, they could all hear Joe’s footsteps as he climbed the stairs and then came back down again. A second set of footsteps followed. Joe emerged from the stairway, and he seemed a bit shocked to see everyone still standing exactly as he’d left them all staring at him. He turned and made sure Maria negotiated the final steps. She carried the baby, who was wide awake, taking in everything around him with the watchful somberness of the newly born.
“Mrs. Brandt, what’s wrong?” Maria asked, looking around uncertainly.
“You look much better today, Maria,” Sarah said with a small smile.
“He only woke up once last night,” Maria reported.
“Why are you here? Did something happen?”
“Nothing new,” Sarah assured her. “I just . . . I wanted to speak with you about this situation you’re in. You may not know it, but the politicians from Tammany Hall are the ones organizing the rioters. They are buying them drinks and getting them stirred up until they’re brave enough to come down here and attack the place.”
“Why would the politicians do that?” Joe challenged.
“Why would they care about us?”
“Mr. Malloy explained to me that Tammany Hall wants to show its power over the Italians.”
Joe and Lorenzo made outraged noises.
“Silenzio,” Mrs. Ruocco snapped. “Why they come here?”
“Because Nainsi’s death put your names in the newspapers, and everybody knows you now. Because they’ve told lies about you and made the Irish angry. They’re saying you murdered Nainsi so you could have her baby.”
Maria made an anguished sound and covered her eyes with one hand, holding the baby tightly with her other arm.
Mrs. Ruocco said something in Italian that Frank was glad nobody translated, and Joe and Lorenzo muttered ominously.
“How can we stop them?” Joe demanded.
“Commissioner Roosevelt has suggested that in order to satisfy the Irish and take away their reason for attacking you, you give the baby to Nainsi’s mother,” Sarah said as gently as if she’d been suggesting a walk in the park.
This time Maria was the one who cried out. “No!” she shrieked, startling the baby. “She cannot have him! She can’t buy the milk for him! She can’t keep the bottles clean! She lives like a pig! He will die!”
