Pip’s bedroom door banged open, and the curtain was ripped back, flooding the room with light.
She winced, pulling the covers over her head. “Get out.”
“I will not!” Marie grabbed the sheet and yanked it free to fling it off the foot of the bed. “Get up!” Her nose wrinkled. “You reek. Get cleaned up and come down for breakfast. You are going to work.”
Pip groaned and sat up on the side of her bed, trying to hold her splitting head together with her hands. She stood unsteadily and saw in the mirror that she still wore the blouse she’d had on last night. Lifting the sleeve, she sniffed. She did stink of cigarette smoke. She smacked her lips, tasting the stale ick of liquor and cigarettes coating her tongue. Her hair was a mess of tangled dark strands.
She wove her way down the hall to the bathroom, her shoulders bumping into the wall a few times. Dropping her clothing to the floor, she stepped into the shower, lifting her face to the hot spray.
By the time she got down to the kitchen, her head felt marginally better, but was still pounding. An icy silence greeted her as everyone else was halfway through breakfast.
“Here you go, Miss Patricia.” Maggie set a cup of coffee in front of her. “You start with that, and I’ll have a bit of toast for you in a just a wee bit.”
“Thanks, Maggie.” Ignoring her mother’s frostiness, Pip eyed her father over the rim of her cup. “How are you feeling, Dad? You have better color today.”
He nodded, his face gaunt. “A little better every day.”
She smiled at the half a grapefruit and bowl of oatmeal in front of him. Every morning now, he asked Maggie for bacon and eggs, and every morning, she gave him oatmeal and grapefruit.
She plunked a plate in front of Pip with two slices of buttered toast. “You eat this, Miss Patricia. You’ll feel better.”
Josie shoveled the last of her eggs into her mouth and pushed back from the table. “Got our first test in history today. I told Sherry Kowalski I’d help her study.” She buttoned up her navy cardigan. “Sister Ruth asked about you again yesterday.”
Pip concentrated on the strawberry preserves she was spreading on her toast. “Tell her I’m busy.”
She kept her head lowered but knew some meaningful looks were being exchanged around the table. Josie kissed Patrick good-bye and clomped out of the kitchen.
Raising her eyes at last, Pip asked, “Where’s Garrett?”
“Interviewing bakery employees,” Patrick said. “You and I are heading over there when you’re done.”
Pip’s head snapped up. “We are?”
“We are.” He dug his spoon into his oatmeal. “You’re to be my chauffeur.”
Marie opened her mouth, clearly planning to object, but Patrick shot her a glare that silenced her. Pip hurriedly finished her toast and gulped her coffee.
“Ready when you are.”
He ate his last few sections of grapefruit and wiped his mouth with his napkin. “We’ll see you this evening.” He gave Marie a kiss on the cheek.
Pip went to find her purse wherever she’d dropped it when she staggered home. Rather than go back through the kitchen and give her mother another opportunity to snipe at her, she slipped out the front door and around to the garage. She backed her dad’s New Yorker out and braked for him to get in.
Almost immediately, she regretted this excursion when, before they’d reached the end of the block, Patrick said, “I want to talk to you, Pip.”
She drove on, her heart pounding.
“What’s going on?”
“What do you mean?” she stalled.
“Pull over, Pip.”
“Dad, we haven’t gone two blocks—”
“Pull over.”
She did as he commanded.
He shifted to face her. “It’s my heart that’s bad, not my eyes. Something happened while I was in the hospital that your mother and Garrett won’t talk about. You’ve not been the same. First you were meek as a lamb to your mother—that worried me almost as much as my heart attack.”
Pip ran her finger over the two-tone steering wheel, an unwilling smile lifting the corner of her mouth.
“And now,” he continued, “you’re a hellion, which you’ve never been. You’re out until all hours, smoking and drinking—” He held up a hand when she opened her mouth. “Don’t even pretend you’re not.”
He reached for her hand. “Something’s wrong, Pip. I don’t know what it is, but I wish you’d let us help you.”
Her mouth opened and closed, but no words would come. What could she say that he would understand? She couldn’t tell him that the trip to that abbey had been a terrible idea; it was as if those nuns were haunting her. She couldn’t stop thinking about them. So she’d defied her mother and gone searching for the “library” Toni had taken her to, finally finding it, only to be told that Toni hadn’t been seen there in weeks. But she’d gone back, drinking and dancing and smoking with the women she met there.
She almost forgot her father was in the car until he said tiredly, “Very well. If you won’t speak to me, I have no choice. If you go out drinking again, I’ll sell your car.”
Her head whipped around, but he was staring out the windshield, his face looking more haggard than ever. Wordlessly, she put the car in gear and drove to the warehouse.
But it wasn’t the warehouse any longer. Construction was complete. The building had been painted and the parking lot was cleared of debris and garbage, ready to welcome employees and trucks. All of the broken windows had been repaired. On each side of the building a new sign was attached—Horrigan’s Bakery.
“Dad,” Pip breathed. “It looks wonderful.”
“It was your vision that did this.”
All of their earlier tension was forgotten as they climbed the steps to the loading dock and walked in. Pip gazed around at the gleaming commercial mixers and ovens and racks. Marble counters stretched for miles, and huge stainless steel sinks stood plumbed and ready. She ran her hands over everything, jumping when a heavy door swung open.
“There you are,” Garrett said impatiently. “Come on. I’ve got about a dozen interviews lined up.”
They followed him down a hall to a room with a couple of long tables positioned end-to-end. There was a counter along one wall, already set up with a coffee percolator and sink.
“This is the break room,” Garrett said when Pip stood looking around. He pointed. “Women’s locker room and showers there. Men’s on that side. Just like you wanted.”
“Garrett,” she said, pulling out a chair to sit down. “This is… it’s…”
“What?” He frowned at her. “It’s what you had drawn up. All I got to do is see that it got finished on time. Speaking of which.”
He shoved a pile of job applications in front of Patrick. “These are the folks interviewing for the baking positions. Tomorrow, the office interviews.”
Over the next few weeks, the bakery slowly geared up. There were a few hilariously misshapen batches of bread as Pip tweaked the math she’d done on Maggie’s recipes for the larger quantities of ingredients needed.
She didn’t tell her dad about those. They were still edible, even if they weren’t pretty, so she let the employees take as many as they wanted. Nor did she share that a few of the new bakers were the homeless men from the nearby vacant lots.
“Thank you, miss,” when they’d shown up the first day had been the only tacit acknowledgement of that connection.
She didn’t know if they were still sleeping around the fires, but they had showers, clean uniforms to wear at work, and decent pay. What they did with it now was up to them.
Just like me, I suppose.
She hadn’t gone out drinking again. Not that she was afraid of her dad’s threat to sell her car. She was more afraid of disappointing him after the faith he’d put in her. But not going out didn’t fill the void she felt inside. Depending on the moment, she couldn’t decide if the void was there because Toni was gone or because she kept dreaming about those nuns in that abbey. Sometimes she felt she was being torn in two.
Exhausted as much by her mental battles as she was from work, she drove home one evening and dragged herself into the house.
“There you are, Miss Patricia.” Felicia met her at the door to take her coat and purse. “The rest of the family is just sitting down to dinner. You hurry and join them.”
Maggie was in high spirits as she served them dinner. “Don’t forget to vote tomorrow,” she reminded them. “John Kennedy will be our next president. I just know it.”
Pip had been so busy, she’d almost lost track of what was happening in the rest of the world. “That’s tomorrow? How is it November already?”
“Oh, that reminds me.” Josie jumped up and went to her school bag. “Teacher was talking about how it’s our moral duty as Americans to vote, so we’re all supposed to remind our parents to vote. Garrett, you’re old enough now, so you have to.”
She handed Pip an envelope. “It’s from Sister Ruth.”
“How does that remind you of anything?” Pip asked, noticing her mother eyeing the envelope as if it were a bomb about to explode at the table.
“Oh, you know.” Josie sat down. “Voting reminded me of school, and school reminded me of this.”
Pip nonchalantly set it aside.
“Aren’t you going to open it?” Josie asked, clearly disappointed that Pip wasn’t more curious.
“Later,” Pip said with a careless shrug.
As soon as dessert had been served and she could excuse herself without drawing attention, she slipped up to her room. She tore the envelope open and tugged out the folded note within.
Pip,
I’m praying for you.
Ruth
For long seconds she sat on the side of her bed, staring at the words as they blurred through her tears. Furious, she wadded the note up and hurled it into her trashcan.
The next evening, she was still fuming. I’m praying for you. That note kept nagging at her.
“I don’t want to be prayed for,” she muttered.
“Sorry,” said the secretary who was helping her set up the payroll records for all the new employees. “What was that?”
“Nothing.” Pip glanced at the clock. “It’s late, Sandra. We’ll pick up with this tomorrow.”
“Okay, Miss Horrigan.”
Pip gathered her things and locked the office behind her. Outside, full darkness had fallen. She wasn’t ready to go home yet and listen to more politics being discussed at dinner. She got into her car and, without really thinking about where she was going, found herself downtown near the Wasserman hotel. After fighting with herself for a moment, she parked and walked the remaining block.
“Is Toni Andretti in?” she asked the clerk behind the desk.
“Toni?” He blinked at her through thick glasses. “She transferred to our Buffalo hotel over a month ago.”
Pip felt as if someone had knocked the breath out of her. “Oh.”
“Is there someone else who can help you?” he offered.
“No.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry to bother—”
“Patricia? Is that you?”
She turned around. “Mr. Wasserman. I didn’t… it’s nice to see you.”
“How are you?” He frowned as he studied her. “I haven’t seen you in quite a while. How is the bakery going?”
“It’s going well, sir. We’ve filled most of the positions and should be able to start supplying your hotels before the end of the month.”
“Good, good.” He steered her down the corridor toward his office. “Antoinette was very complimentary of you. I suppose you heard. I gave her a promotion. She’s managing our Buffalo hotel now.”
“I heard.”
He took the seat behind his desk, gesturing for Pip to take one of the chairs. “I thought my son would step in, take over at one of our hotels and be prepared to take my place, but…”
He let the thought trail off as he flicked his lighter and puffed on a cigar.
“He doesn’t want this business?” Pip asked, more to be polite than because she actually cared.
“Ever since the war—he fought in the Second World War, got posted to the Pacific—he can’t seem to settle on anything for long. Teddy has a head for business. He starts them but then loses interest. Won’t keep them going.”
He stared into space, puffing clouds of smoke.
“What will you do?”
“Hmmm?” He just seemed to realize she was still there. “Do? Do about what?”
“The hotels. Your business. Who will you… I mean, is there someone else you’ll bring in to train and take over?”
He stared at her through the smoke. “Lately, I’ve been wondering if my granddaughter wouldn’t be a good choice. You remind me of her. Believe I told you that once. If you can step in the way you have, maybe she can, too.”
“You should ask her.”
“Think I’ll do that.”
She stood. “Well, I should be going. Nice to see you, Mr. Wasserman.”
“Goodnight, Patricia.”
She retraced her steps through his outer office, but instead of returning through the lobby, she took the employee corridor out the rear of the hotel, nodding to a few familiar faces.
She felt hollow inside. Toni was gone, it seemed for good, and hadn’t made any attempt to see her or say good-bye.
She was so absorbed in her thoughts that she nearly tripped over a figure huddled against the alley wall, hidden in the shadows.
“Sorry.”
“Any spare change, miss?” rasped an old woman.
“Maybe.” She dug around in her coat pocket. “Here you go.” She bent to hold out a few dollars.
Ice-cold fingers touched hers as the woman reached for the money.
“God has chosen you.”
Pip, already turning to continue down the alley, froze. “What did you say?”
“I said God bless you.”
Pip backed away and nearly ran to her car where she sat, her heart pounding. Her hand was trembling as she turned the key. She didn’t remember anything of the drive home. Ignoring her mother’s voice asking if she’d had dinner, she hung her coat on the hall tree and climbed the stairs to her room.
There, leaning against the mirror, was the smoothed-out note she’d thrown away. I’m praying for you.
She stood, staring at it for a long while and then collapsed onto her bed, sobbing with her face buried in her pillow. She didn’t look up at the soft knock on her door. Felicia came in and sat beside her, rubbing her back the way she used to do when Pip was little.
“There, there.”
She kept rubbing until the sobs slowed. When Pip rolled over, Felicia handed her a tissue.
“You can’t ignore this.”
Pip sniffed, wiping at her eyes. “Ignore what?”
Felicia smiled. “I always knew you were destined for something special, Miss Patricia. I think you should talk to Sister Ruth.”