had to say.
She couldn’t let him get chummy and find a bar chair.
Swinging around the end of the bar—and nearly hopping over the little gate—she hurried to catch him. “I need you—some food coming out, drinks good for now, Brian probably ready for his coffee soon, doesn’t need cream!”
She didn’t give her baby brother a chance to protest.
She shoved him back, handing him the bar rag as she did so, and raced for the door. Bursting out onto the sidewalk, she was ready to run.
She didn’t need to. Sister Teresa—in her complete “penguin” outfit, as they had always called the nuns’ traditional habits—was waiting for her, studying the list of fresh smoothies on the menu of the fruit stand just a few feet away.
“What took you?” she asked Kieran.
Kieran’s brows shot up in surprise. “I’m sorry! I...you... I didn’t expect to see you. I’m so sorry. I guess you would have been uncomfortable coming in? The pub is quite nice—we have religious groups meet here now and then. Even a few rabbis!”
“Oh, honey, I have no problem going into a pub. Sometimes, when people see us, they get uncomfortable. I didn’t want to distress any of your customers, child, that’s all. Then again, it’s best to talk in private sometimes, too,” Sister Teresa told her. “And not be terribly conspicuous.”
“Yes, certainly,” Kieran said, curious—and anxious. She had felt that there was something going on at the soup kitchen. Sister Teresa’s presence here now seemed to solidify what she’d believed.
“And yes, sometimes it’s good to speak in private,” Kieran agreed. But, just how inconspicuous they could be—herself and a fully draped nun in front of the pub door—she wasn’t certain.
Sister Teresa waved a hand in the air as if reading her mind. “Never mind—I just don’t want people walking out on your lovely place of business. So, anyway, here’s the thing—are you going to be coming back to the soup kitchen?”
“Oh, yes. I was very impressed,” Kieran told her.
“We are impressive,” Sister Teresa said flatly. “But, may I suggest that you return sooner than next Saturday? You are employed Monday through Friday—Mary Kathleen filled me in on you, so I know—but we are open tomorrow, as well.”
“And I would come back because...?” Kieran asked.
“You have a way with a soup ladle?” Sister Teresa retorted sarcastically. “My dear Miss Finnegan! One of our young ladies—a very shy one at that!—asked if I knew you. If you would be back. I assured her that you would be. It is not at all nice to make a liar out of a nun. I am assuming she wishes to speak with you. And—since Mary Kathleen did fill me in on quite a bit—I believe this young woman might be looking to you for assistance, and help in what may be a criminal matter having to do with a beautiful baby girl.”
Kieran stared at her and blinked. “Sister Teresa, if you can tell me—”
“I can’t tell you anything. I am only suggesting that you come to the facility at about ten tomorrow. We open after the early masses—services and such for some of our partners of other persuasions—and we work until three or four. I’m also going to suggest that you be incredibly discreet—as I said, this young lady is very shy.”
“Of course,” Kieran said.
Discreet! Like standing with a nun on Broadway!
“Don’t dillydally,” Sister Teresa said, and for a moment, she felt as if she was dealing with Mary Poppins—had Mary Poppins decided to join a convent. “Get yourself in there early. It’s not like anyone has given me a timetable or anything.”
“Yes.”
“Yes, what, young woman?”
“Of course, yes, I’ll be there, Sister Teresa!” Kieran promised.
“Excellent.”
The nun nodded sagely, turned and fluttered her way down Broadway.
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