HOW LONG DOES IT take to clean up a million chicken feathers? Just about as long, in fact, as it took Daddy and Mr. Stannum to come to some sort of understanding in one of the restaurant’s back offices. Daddy, alone, finally emerged as the last dustpan of feathers was swept up and thrown away. “Mr. Stannum and I have talked,” he said, with a few feathers still stuck in the lapel of his suit jacket, “and there was a misunderstanding of sorts. None of you will be let go of your jobs. I’d like you to stay.” He glanced behind him. “We’d like you to stay.”
Amy, who had been crying the whole time, threw her arms around Daddy. “Thank you, Mr. Baum. Bless you now, oh, bless you. And I was thinking that even though there’s a big ole mess here, these birds are fresh as a crocus. I bet delicious, too. And I know that Mr. Hoffman don’t want to be losin’ your business, so if you the one that doin’ some talkin’ with him I bet he knock down the price a good bit.”
Daddy patted her on the back and nodded.
“All that bread,” said Julie, leaning over the counter with her head in her hands, “and those pies.” She wrung her hands. “They’re as good as garbage now.”
Mr. Washington kept his head down but shook Daddy’s hand. Seaweed did not move, but instead folded his arms across his chest. “No reason we shoulda been let go in the first place,” he said under his breath. He looked at Frankie. “Wasn’t our fault about them birds being brought here like that. We done nothin’ we shouldn’t’ve.”
Frankie’s cheeks burned. Seaweed was right; that she knew. Daddy seemed to know it, too, because he looked at her then and his face was heavy with disappointment. “I’m sorry,” she told him. “I’m the one who said we’d take the chickens that way.”
Daddy pinched her chin and sighed. “What’s done is done. Like I said, a misunderstanding. Now, let’s get back to work. We’ve got a restaurant to open in a few days.”
Seaweed and Amy got back to the chickens without speaking a word, while Mr. Washington set down his tools by the broken fan. Frankie looked at the bushel of potatoes, which were still waiting to be peeled, when Daddy said, “Your mother and Elizabeth are out looking at material for curtains, and I have a meeting with Yancy Biggs across town. He’s agreed to have his orchestra play here for our July Fourth party and on weekends and we need to go over a few details. Do you want to come along?”
“Really?” said Frankie. “Me, come along with you? To a meeting?”
“If you’d like,” he said. “Let’s see, now, the car’s parked around back.” He patted the pockets of his trousers. “Oh dear, I must’ve left my keys upstairs. Give me a minute.”
“I’ll get them for you, Daddy,” she said. “You wait right here.” Frankie took the stairs two at a time and slid her hand over the dark wooden railing that ran along the second-floor balcony, overlooking the dining room. She leaned over the railing and waved down to Daddy, who was standing by the cash stand and talking to a pair of men putting the finishing touches on the plaster walls.
Frankie followed the railing past the banquet room to Daddy’s office. She opened the door and went inside. Daddy’s desk took up most of the room, and piles of papers took up most of his desk. Frankie looked around for the keys to the Studebaker, but she didn’t see them. She opened his desk drawers and lifted up the piles, accidentally knocking a few folders to the floor. As she bent down to pick them up, she noticed Mr. Price’s election poster, the one he had hung in the front window, sticking out of the waste can.
So that’s what happened to it, she thought.
Frankie finally found the keys on the seat of Daddy’s chair. Just as she grabbed for them, she heard a voice. She turned around, startled, but there was no one.
A ghost, that was her first thought. It had to be. A building that old and standing empty for so long was bound to be haunted with lost, restless spirits, she figured. But just as she was starting to get excited about the possibility, she heard the voice again and determined that it was coming from the heat register in the floor. She got closer and put her ear up to the metal grate.
Frankie could hear Mr. Stannum’s voice clear as a spring day from the office downstairs. “I don’t mean to bother you, sir,” said Mr. Stannum. “But remember the other night when you came by . . . Yes, well, you said to let you know if I noticed anything . . .”
There was a short period of silence, and Frankie strained her ear to hear.
“Yes, well, I found something.”
Frankie pressed her ear closer to the grate.
“I don’t know exactly,” said Mr. Stannum, his voice lowering. “It’s in German.”
Frankie held her breath.
“No, he’s leaving now for a meeting. But . . . I don’t know, sir. I don’t know who he’s meeting with. He is my employer, and I . . . yes, but I do need this job. Right. Yes, all right,” said Mr. Stannum. “I understand my duty, sir. I will, then. I will. You can count on me. Uh, good day.”
“Did you find them?” called Daddy from downstairs.
Frankie got to her feet. “Coming!” She ran across the balcony and down the stairs. “Here you go,” she said, dropping the keys into Daddy’s open hand.
“Thank you,” he said. “Ready to go?”
Frankie looked behind her toward the kitchen, toward the closed door of Mr. Stannum’s office, toward whatever he was up to. She would need to stay close if she was going to find out. “I changed my mind,” she told Daddy. “I think I’ll stay here. I’ve got potatoes to peel.”
“Are you certain?” he said.
Frankie nodded. “There’s a good bit I need to do.”