And now she knew Mrs. S was in trouble with that silver baron Mr. Gallagher. He’d been all smooth and swank in his topcoat and tails, just like all of the rich folk in San Francisco and Leadville, all those places with money.
Antonia had had a bad feeling about him from the start. She didn’t remember ever hearing about a Mr. Gallagher when she had been a newsie running with the other newsies in Leadville. And they knew everyone, especially the bigwigs, the ones who were flush and tipped big when buying a paper. Mrs. S had never mentioned him either, not in Leadville or here. But from the words they threw back and forth down there and the way he grabbed her arm, it looked like he knew her and she sure as shootin’ knew him.
Back in Leadville, as far as men went, Mrs. S mostly swore at Mr. Stannert, who she finally left, or canoodled with Reverend Sands, who seemed to have left her. Antonia couldn’t figure it, because they had seemed sweet on each other in Leadville. But he had been there, and then he was gone, leaving Mrs. S to take her mister to court and get free of him all by herself.
Antonia didn’t ask about the reverend, where he was or what had happened or any of that. Mrs. S didn’t talk about him, so the only thing Antonia could figure was something sad must’ve happened between them, something Mrs. S kept to herself.
Antonia could understand that.
So, who the heck was this Mr. High-and-Mighty-Gallagher who acted like he was one of the society folk living up on Nob Hill?
Well, whoever he was, he was looking for his son. And Mrs. S had told him nope, she didn’t know him, but it had sounded like Gallagher didn’t believe her. It had sounded like he might even do something nasty if Mrs. S didn’t do what he said. Someone like that—who was rich and knew other rich folks, and who could scare Mrs. S—was someone not to cross.
Seems like he thought he could come in and push Mrs. S around and tell her what to do, just like the bullies at school did to Antonia. Well, she was going to help Mrs. S out, and see if she couldn’t draw a bead on this Robert Gallagher and get that toff out of their lives.
But how?
Antonia’s wandering mind settled on Copper Mick. His da’s a detective. Maybe Mick can help.
“Are they stale?”
“Huh?” Antonia realized she’d been holding the zeppola up to her lips but not eating while all this rumbled through her mind. “No, they’re great. I just can’t taste very much ’cause my nose.” She took another bite and polished it and the second pastry off.
“The day you turn down Carmella’s zeppole is the day I know you are sick,” said Mrs. S. “Brush the sugar off your collar, and gather your things. You’ll need to hurry.”
Antonia grabbed her glasses and her bonnet, stuffed the extra handkerchief lying by her bookbag up her sleeve, and hoisted her lunch pail to her arm and her book strap with the Swinton’s over her shoulder. “Too much stuff,” she muttered, clattering down the stairs with Mrs. S close behind.
Mrs. S draped Antonia’s coat over her shoulders and handed her an umbrella. “You’ll have to be quick as a bunny to get your lunch from Mrs. Nolan,” she opened the door, “and get to school on time—Oh!”
They both stopped short. Mr. Donato stood right outside, hand gripping the bell twist, prepared to ring the doorbell. “Ah! Good morning, Antonia, Mrs. Stannert. Signora, I’d hoped to have a few words with you before you start your day.”
“I have an appointment this morning, Signore. One I cannot break. We shall have to talk later.”
Antonia blinked. Mrs. S hardly ever refused Mr. Donato, even when he made ridiculous requests. Hearing her say “no” like that reminded Antonia of what Mrs. S had been like when in Leadville. Back then, Mrs. S was almost scary, always carrying her pocket pistol and not afraid of anything or anyone. But plenty of folks were afraid of her. It was like she was invincible, and no one dared cross her. She made Antonia feel safe. But since Sacramento, Mrs. S had been… different. Not weak, exactly, but more wary. Quiet. Like she was trying to be invisible. And now, Antonia didn’t feel as safe as she once did.
Donato seemed as surprised as Antonia at Mrs. S’s response and sputtered out, “But, I—”
“I’ll be back in time to open the store.” Mrs. S took Antonia’s shoulder and marched her down Kearney toward Market.
“Where are you going?” Antonia had the terrifying idea that Mrs. S was coming with her to talk to Miss Pierce or maybe the principal.
Mrs. S squeezed her shoulder. “As I told Mr. Donato, I have an appointment. One that I must keep. And I wanted to tell you something first. Mrs. Sweet from Leadville is in town. Do you remember Mrs. Sweet?”
Antonia wrinkled her nose, which only caused it to run. “Mrs. Sweet? You mean Frisco Flo, the madam who runs the whoreh—”
“Ssssst!” Inez cut her off. “None of that here. I wanted to warn you that she may come by the store at some point to talk to me about a business matter. If you see her, I want you to pretend that you are meeting for the first time. I will introduce you, and you will address her as Mrs. Sweet.”
Antonia noted how the lines tightened around Mrs. Stannert’s eyes as she talked about Madam Flo. “What’s she doing here? In San Francisco?”
“It’s a business matter, as
