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The Luncheon

The Luncheon

I clung to Tony's arm, exhausted from my

illness, eager to see Joe and Josie, yet afraid at the same time. I

was so rude at our last meeting, yet they didn't dare refuse our

invitation. Had I offended my friends past forgiveness?

But when our butler John Pearson opened the

parlor door, I knew something was terribly wrong.

The parlor itself looked perfectly normal:

white paneling, pale blue sofa, white coffee table.

Josephine Kerr sat, face in her hands, alone.

She glanced up as Tony and I entered. Her skin was pink, her curly

blond hair plastered around her face, her blue eyes red and full of

tears.

Now, looking back, I'm ashamed to say that

all I thought of was Joe. Where was her twin? My heart began

pounding at the thought that something might have befallen him.

I glanced at Tony. He nodded, his blue eyes

somber as he turned to go, but Josie said, "Please, Mr. Spadros,

stay. I sorely need your counsel."

Josephine Kerr was a year older than I. As a

young girl, she led the High-Low Split, the most notorious (and now

only) street gang in the Spadros section of the Pot. The girl who

taught me to fight with knives in the streets and alleyways of the

worst section of Bridges. The woman groomed to run her

grandfather's estate, chosen over her twin brother Joseph.

Josie never asked anyone for counsel. I'd

known Josie since I was born, and I'd never seen her cry

before.

I took Tony's hand to keep mine from shaking,

and drew him to sit across from her. "Josie, what's wrong?"

Her gaze was both horrified and bereft. "Oh,

Jacqui," she said, "Joe's been hurt."

I felt an enormous sense of relief. Hurt. I

feared from her demeanor that he had died.

Tony ran a hand through black hair. "How?

What happened?"

Josie wiped her face with a handkerchief. She

took a deep breath, and let it out. Then she spoke, slowly and with

hesitation:

"We were in the Hart countryside, a week ago.

The day was ... so ... beautiful! Joe and six of his friends rode

beside the carriage on horseback, while I and three of my friends

rode inside.

"You know how Joe is, Jacqui, always

sporting. We passed a field, and he told the carriage to stop. It

was time for luncheon so I asked if he wanted to eat there. He did,

so the ladies and I began taking out the blankets and baskets with

the help of our driver.

"Joe was still a-horse, and challenged the

men to race across the field to a thicket. It wasn't far, oh, maybe

a hundred yards off. I told him not to, Jacqui, I did. He knew

nothing of the field, or of its dangers, but his friends joined in,

urging him on, and off they went. I screamed for him to stop, but

they raced — full on. I felt terrified for his horse, and I was

right: just before the thicket, his horse stepped in a hole and

threw him ... at speed."

I gasped, stomach churning, and Tony squeezed

my hand.

Josie nodded. "He went into the thicket and

flew over. But beyond that was an embankment, with a stone wall at

its base, and then a terrible far drop."

I leaned forward. What happened?

"A stand of trees and bushes lay there. A

large branch went through his leg, then he hit the wall at the

bottom of the embankment so hard it cracked. The top part of the

wall had blood all over it."

It seemed incomprehensible. He hit a

wall?

Josie shook her head, face in her hands. "He

hung ... by his leg ... over a cliff. I still can't believe it.

That branch was the only thing which kept him from going into

certain death."

Joe might have died? "A week ago?"

When Josie spoke, she

sounded afraid and defensive. At the time, I felt ashamed: I

imagined she thought I blamed her. "It was terrible, Jacqui. A

friend spoke to me and I glanced away right as the horse threw

him. Then the men began to cry out for help, screaming for a

doctor. I felt terrified Joe might be dead. I told the driver to

unhitch the horse and go for a doctor, then my friends and I

ran across the field to him. He lay in the branches, unmoving,

blood dripping from his wounds. The men shouted and wept,

distraught at the thought he might be dead.

"It took us the rest of the day to bring him

home. We were far in the countryside. It took two hours for a

doctor to arrive. Thank the Floorman the other horses were unhurt,

for we had to send for ropes so we could climb down to him. We had

to saw the branch with our pocket knives to free him, to bring him

safely away from the cliff. After the doctor came, we lowered him

to Joe's side so the doctor could remove the branch from his leg.

Oh," her voice broke, "I can still recall how Joe screamed as we

did so." She wiped tears from her cheeks. "We got a stretcher down

to him so we might hoist him up. It took ten men to do so. The

horse Joe rode had to be put down, it screamed as much as he did.

It was terrible. Its leg ...." She shuddered. "Thank the Dealer

Joe's friend had a pistol to release the poor animal from its

pain."

"Oh, Josie." I went to her, holding her as

she sobbed in my arms. After she calmed herself, I asked, "How can

we help?"

But Josie didn't seem to hear me. "I came

myself, the next day, once the doctor said he would live. I knew

you'd want to see him, but they said you weren't home. Didn't they

send my card?"

"They did." I sighed. "I've been ill. I'm

sorry. If I would've known it was so serious, I would have come

straight-away."

Josie stared at me. "You're ill? I'm so

sorry. I should never have come." She began to rise. "I —"

"Of course you should have come," Tony said.

"You've done everything well. Sit, please. Mrs. Spadros is well

now, and feels strong. We should have luncheon together, as we

planned. Let's go to the veranda. The sight of the gardens will be

relaxing." He paused. "When you feel able to, Miss Kerr, of

course."

She sat staring at her hands. "How did you

come to fall ill?"

Tony smiled. "She went boating with Helen

Hart. Can you believe it? All these years the Harts have been

estranged from her, then invited to luncheon twice now. They were

caught in that rainstorm last week and she's been sick with

coughing and fever ever since — until today, of course. What

terrible luck."

Josie stared at me unmoving, and I felt a

spike of panic. I hadn't been with Helen Hart that day. Did she

know I lied? If so, what would she do?

But she nodded without expression. "The same

day we were in the Hart countryside. The day Joe fell. I saw the

storm far off over the city while we waited for help to arrive."

She took a deep breath. "I'm ready."

I took her arm as we went out of the parlor,

Tony following behind. Our butler met us in the entryway.

"Pearson," Tony said, "we'll take luncheon on

the veranda."

"Yes, sir." A middle-aged man with thinning

brown hair, John Pearson strode ahead of us. We ambled after him,

past the white paneled doors to Tony's library, his study, my

study, and the breakfast room.

Josie said nothing as we walked, which was

just as well: my mind was in turmoil. Joe was terribly hurt, for a

week now, and I hadn't been there for him.

Of course the staff gave me her card. But

they wouldn't have known to tell me of the situation even if Josie

shared it, which she wouldn't have. Josie was a most private woman;

she must trust us very much to let her distress show, especially in

front of Tony, who she barely knew.

The sun peeked through the clouds as we

passed the breakfast room windows. The twigs in the garden

glistened as we turned right, towards the dining hall. The veranda

doors were at the left side of the large white hall, halfway down

the room. A maid opened the glass-paneled doors for us.

The air was warm for this February afternoon,

and smelled of damp earth. My bird, white with blue-gray markings,

chirped at us from its large white cage as we emerged. Amelia's son

walked far out in the meadow with our bomb-sniffer dog, Rocket.

Josie seemed to notice none of this, going

straight to the table. Tony pulled her chair out, then pulled out a

chair for me to her left. The wide gray roof hadn't let a drop from

that morning's storm reach the table, so the chairs were clean and

dry.

Pearson emerged. Two of his sons brought out

a side table. Maids followed with serving platters and tablecloths,

and began setting the table. The maids set out large white service

plates and tea cups, with a small bowl of rosemary sprigs in the

center. The scent of rosemary wafted in the air. I rose to pour the

tea, then returned to my seat. Josie continued to stare dully at

the table.

Pearson's daughter Mary came to the table in

her maid uniform, black with a spotless white apron, and curtsied.

"Smoked ham, roasted new potatoes, baked beans with fat pork."

Josie nodded. I smiled up at Mary. "Thank

you."

Mary curtsied and began placing filled white

luncheon plates edged in black atop the larger ones.

Tony smiled at me. It was then I realized how

nervous I was.

Josie let out a weary sigh, and sipped her

tea.

We began eating. My bird chirped, another

answered.

"You mentioned that you needed my counsel,"

Tony said. "How may I help?"

Josie nodded, not meeting our eyes. "The

horse Joe rode was valuable, a beautiful sorrel. It belonged to my

grandfather. Mr. Charles Hart gave the grand-sire to him when he

first sponsored my grandfather into the Hart lands. My grandfather

loved the horse's offspring dearly, as he does Mr. Hart himself."

She took a deep breath, let it out. "My grandfather is distraught

at the loss, almost as much as with Joe's injuries. But ... we only

had the two horses to begin with. We have no way to replace it in a

timely manner, and Mr. Hart has done so much for us already

..."

Tony nodded. "Would it help if I spoke with

Mr. Hart —?"

A spike of fear. What if Tony learned I had

never met with Helen Hart? That I lied to him all those times?

"Or would one of our horses help? Until you

can get another."

Josie brightened. "Oh, Mr. Spadros, a horse

would help so much. Just until we can replace it. We're fortunate

that his sire still lives. He is our carriage-horse, old, yes, but

reliable. We can get a foal from him in the spring, I'm sure."

Tony smiled. "You're welcome to choose any

from the stables you like. Keep it as long as you need."

Josie's face filled with gratitude. "Thank

you so much, sir. You have no idea how much it will help."

"It's no trouble at all," Tony said. "Lady

Luck has blessed the Spadros Family. I'm happy to help you."

Josie's eyes lowered. She smiled, blushing.

"May I speak on another matter?"

"Why, of course," I said.

"Joe would be most obliged if you visited

him," Josie said to Tony. "He's been bound to his bed a week now,

and is starved for company." Her shoulders drooped as she glanced

aside. "Many of his friends no longer visit."

I turned to Tony. "Might we go tomorrow after

luncheon?"

Tony shook his head. "I have a meeting

tomorrow. But you can go, if you feel well enough."

Pearson told me Tony had a meeting tomorrow,

which was why I suggested it. "I'll take the unmarked carriage."

This plain brown carriage resembled a taxi, if you ignored the

black horses and silver tackle of the Spadros Family. By using this

carriage, we might visit other quadrants without attracting undue

notice.

Tony nodded. "Good idea. It'll be safer that

way."

Always his concern was for my safety. Tony

meant well, but his idea of "safety" often felt like life in a

cage.

Josie stirred at Tony's remark. "Have you had

trouble?"

Tony put his fork down and leaned back in his

chair. The room Crab and Duck died in was still being cleaned from

the ordeal. "You might say that."

My best friend Air, murdered in front of me

the night I was sold to the Spadros Family ten years ago, had two

brothers. Frank Pagliacci kidnapped twelve year old David Bryce

(Air's youngest brother) a month ago, framing the Red Dogs street

gang for it. David's seventeen-year-old brother Herbert and a

fifteen-year-old Red Dogs member named Stephen Rivers tried to find

David. The police found them strangled; I felt certain Pagliacci

killed them.

Two of Tony's men were killed and two others

kidnapped by Pagliacci's men. Then they attacked Tony in his own

warehouse. Frank Pagliacci released the kidnapped men after

blackmailing them into spying on us. Pagliacci claimed he did all

this to capture me then lure the rest of the Spadros Family to

their deaths. But I believed this was a ruse to cover up his real

intent.

The two spies were dead: Duck, of infection

after Tony shot him; the other, Crab, died at his own hand. David

Bryce, now home safe, had so far refused to speak, his mind having

reverted, it seemed, to that of a babe. I shot Frank Pagliacci, but

I was no closer to bringing Frank's mad accomplice Jack Diamond to

justice than I was a week ago.

I gazed at Tony.

They tried to destroy us.

Yet we survived it.

Feeling a surge of fondness, I kissed

Tony's hand and turned to Josie. "We have had some trials, yes,

quite serious ones, but they've brought us closer together." And

they had. For the first time, I felt as if Tony valued me as more

than just a woman, but something closer to an equal.

Tony let out a breath, color rising in his

cheeks, his gaze part incredulity and part hope.

Sadness washed over me. Somehow, he knew that

I held my heart from him these three years of our marriage.

Josie gaped at us.

And I felt ashamed.

Her brother Joe and I promised ourselves to

each other before I was kidnapped and brought here. Everything in

his actions indicated he had lost interest in me. But what might

her dreams have been?

I dropped Tony's hand. "I forget my manners

sometimes."

Josie smiled. "I'm glad to see you

happy."

I let out a breath. Yes. In spite of my worry

for Joe, my grief over David's ruin, my fears for the future ...

yes, I was happy.

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