Speak Easy (Speak Easy 1)

“I’ll do better than that. Mother is pretty friendly with Mrs. Anderson, and I know she’d be glad to do you the favor.”

“Really? Oh, Evelyn! Tell your mother how grateful we are.” I glanced through the front window of the bakery, where Mrs. LaChance was ringing up a customer. “Did Rosie tell you about Daddy?”

“No.” She looked concerned. “Is everything OK?”

I paused. “Can you keep a secret?”

It felt good to confide in Evelyn. I trusted her, and I needed someone besides Joey to tell me things would be all right. Leaving out only the parts where I got romantic with Enzo, I told her everything. Evelyn’s eyes got wider and wider, and finally she grabbed my hand and squeezed, tears filling her eyes. “Oh, Tiny,” she moaned softly. “How awful!”

“It is,” I agreed. “But they promised not to hurt him as long as I got the ransom to them by their deadline.”

She sniffed. “You can do it. I know you can. And I’ll help you.”

“Thanks.”

“I should get back to work, but I’ll call you as soon as I talk to Mother. There might be other parties needing liquor too. Should I ask her?”

Hope flooded my veins. “Yes. Evvy—you’re the best. Thank you.”

#

Evelyn called not two hours after I got home. She said the Andersons would take two cases, and if I’d part with the rest of the bottles for two hundred dollars, her mother would buy them from me and sell them out the back door of the bakery. She was sure she could get rid of them quickly with all the June weddings and parties, and while she didn’t want to go into the bootlegging business, she was glad to do a favor for Daddy just this once.

“Sold,” I said, my heart swelling with gratitude. I went to the boathouse, loaded up, and delivered to the Andersons’ home on Beverly Road as well as the bakery’s back door. With over five hundred dollars in my pocket, I felt almost light-hearted as we drove back to my house.

“I can’t believe I’m going to that club tonight,” Evelyn said, twisting her hands together. “We’ll need to go to my house after supper so I can pick out something to wear. Your clothes aren’t going to fit me.”

“We’ll have time, don’t worry.”

Joey’s car was on the street in front of my house. When we walked in the front door, the aroma that greeted us sent my head spinning. Onions and garlic and tomatoes and sausage and something else—maybe oregano or rosemary? I wasn’t good at identifying herbs, but whatever it was, my stomach groaned in anticipation. In the kitchen, Joey stood with an apron-clad Molly at the stove, watching her stir. “Yeah, break up those tomatoes a little bit. Good.” He looked up when we entered the room. “Hope you’re hungry, girls.”

“Joey, that smells delicious!” said Evelyn. “Can we help you?”

“Why don’t you two put together a salad from the vegetables I brought? They’re in bags on the table.”

“We’d be glad to.” Evelyn smiled at Joey in a way that reminded me of Rosie, and when he turned back to the stove, she looked at me and fanned her face. I rolled my eyes, even though I secretly agreed. There was something very attractive about a man who knew what he was doing in the kitchen. Especially when he looked like Joey.

While Evelyn unpacked the bags, I washed my hands and listened as Joey instructed Molly to get the cinnamon and sugar from the pantry.

“You put cinnamon in spaghetti sauce?” I asked, surprised.

“Yes. And we call it gravy,” he said, swatting my behind with a spatula, “which none of you Irish girls seem to understand.”

I smiled, glad he was back to teasing me. “Gravy goes on meat and potatoes. What you’re making is for noodles, so we call it sauce.” I bumped his hip with mine.

“Noodles!” he exclaimed. “My ma’s homemade mostaccioli ain’t noodles. Do you know what I had to say to get her to let me have some?”

I laughed as I dried my hands. “No, what?”

“Let’s just say I had to make a promise I’m not sure I can keep.”

“About what?”

“Grandchildren.” He shook his head and muttered something in Italian. “And she says she’s gonna light candles for me at church, so if I lied to her, the Virgin Mary will punish me.”

“Then I’ll pray for you.” Crossing myself, I set the towel down and looked at Evelyn, who was watching us with a confused expression on her face. I turned to the cabinets and pulled a large mixing bowl down so she wouldn’t see me blush. “Here, let’s use this for the salad.”

“All right.” Evelyn’s voice was hesitant, as if she felt unsure of herself. “I’ll…I’ll peel the carrots if you want to tear up the lettuce.”