woman snatched Asher’s portrait from her hands, but only took a quick glance before passing it to Sonny. He studied it, his expression softening while Rose explained our mission. “Unfortunately circumstances have caused an estrangement from the family, but we are desperate to find him for legal reasons. Do you recall his face?”
“It’s my job to keep young men away from my door,” Nell said. “I own Empire House, but I manage it, as well. Any male on the premises endures my careful scrutiny. If I’d seen him, I’d remember.” She took the photograph from Sonny and gave it back to Rose. “I’m sorry we can’t be of help in that matter, but we can get you settled into your room. If you’ll come with me, we can address the paperwork.”
After tossing a final glare Santino’s way, she ushered us out of the kitchen. We followed Nell’s straight back down an adjacent hallway lined with faded fleur-de-lis wallpaper and framed photographs of hunting dogs dressed in country attire. Rose looked at me with a raised brow, doubt flooding her eyes.
“Yeah, she’s an odd bird,” I said lightly, “but aren’t we all?”
Rose sighed. “Speak for yourself.”
Nell’s small office smelled of onions and rose water. A dusty brown ledger lay at the center of a circular table. “You’re lucky we had a vacancy,” she said, turning open the book. She fussed at a drawer and extracted a fountain pen. “Sign here.”
“Could you be more specific about the rent and amenities?” Rose asked.
“You could walk three blocks and find a dozen other boarding houses that offer the same or worse,” Nell said, bristling. “There are a hundred places for girls in this city. You’re free to find one to your liking.”
I hated talk of money. I just wanted a room. The day was growing hotter, and I longed to stretch out in front of an open window with a cool cloth on my forehead.
I signed the ledger with a flourish and handed the pen to Rose, who reluctantly added her signature.
Nell separated one key from a ring holding countless copies. “You get the penthouse, top floor. As soon as you agree to the rules, you may have the key.”
My head snapped up. “Rules?”
“Oh, darling,” Nell said. “There are always rules, even in a city like this.”
EMPIRE HOUSE
RULES FOR TENANTS
Curfew is strictly enforced. The front and back doors will be locked at 10:00 p.m. nightly. On Saturday nights, the lock turns at 11:00 p.m. SHARP. (After this hour, no knocking, screaming, crying or howling will be tolerated. Sleep in the garden and learn your lesson.)
Hot showers cost fifteen cents and should last no longer than five minutes. At three cents a minute, you’re barely paying for the coal—quit your complaining. There is a timer on the small table outside the bathroom. It will be set.
Laundry services are available, but management is not held to any time constraints. You’ll get it when you get it.
Breakfast is served at 7:00 a.m.; dinner at 6:00 p.m. There is no luncheon. If you are here in the middle of the day, then you have most likely lost your job and have more pressing things to do.
Excessive noise is prohibited. Talking, singing, laughing and loud coughing are not acceptable after midnight.
No one is allowed to sit in the parlor. Ever. No exceptions.
Absolutely no consumption of alcoholic beverages. The Feds say it’s illegal and so do we. Have a nice cup of coffee instead (Five cents a cup and be sure to wash it out when you’re done).
As we gained the upper part of the house, I realized with a growing sense of unease that Empire House was only elegant at ground level. The higher we went, the shabbier it got—frayed carpet, holes in the plaster, a pervasive dampness in the air. After climbing what seemed like countless flights, we reached what I thought was the top floor, but then Nell led us to a door, which housed a narrow staircase.
I peered up, though I couldn’t see much. “Are we sleeping in the attic?”
“It’s really quite lovely,” Nell said, dropping the key into my hand. “This is for the bathroom. You won’t need any other keys. I lock up the main door at night.” With a quick smile, she began her descent back to the first floor.
“What’ll we do?” Rose asked, panic in her voice.
I shrugged. “We explore.”
Rose and I came up the stairs to find ourselves standing in the middle of an airy loft, marooned in a sea of cast-off furniture and puffs of dust.
“Our front door is a hole in the floor!” Rose said, aghast. “We might sleepwalk and tumble down the stairs!”
I didn’t want to admit I’d had a similar thought. “It ain’t the Ritz, but it’s not so bad,” I said, but I was throwing her a line—it was one step above a flophouse. One slim window faced MacDougal Street, and sunlight weakly filtered in through a dirty skylight, casting strange shadows on the two twin beds, huddled like starving children in the middle of the room, and an old-fashioned dressing table with an overlarge mirror. The walls were painted a leaden gray. Our trunks sat on a frayed rug. Leeched of all color, it covered a small section of well-used oak floors.
“We have roommates,” Rose whispered, pointing to a closet cut into the middle of the far side wall. Through it another room could be seen. I spotted two female figures moving to and fro, but it was like I was peering at them through the wrong end of the telescope. The gals noticed me and squealed, and they both darted through the slim passageway, fluttering into our room like birds escaping the nest.
One had brown hair that would be mousy, had it not been cut in the most precise bob I’d ever seen. She introduced herself as Maude. The other’s hair was blond, not golden, like Rose’s, but honey-colored, as though she’d started off light but darkened with age. She had the kind of eyes—keen and electric—that missed nothing. This was Viv.
“How’d you gals get stuck with the penthouse?” Viv asked.
“Just lucky, I guess,” I said, keeping my tone jokey. “What’s there to do for fun around here?”
Maude winked. “Oh, anything you set your heart on. Anything at all.”
Rose glanced uneasily at the corridor linking our rooms. “We were hoping for a private room. We’re paying a steep sum—”
“Don’t worry about us,” Viv interjected. “We won’t bug you unless you ask for it.”
Maude rolled her eyes. “Don’t mind her. She’s still working off a bender.”
“But isn’t drinking against the rules?” The words had tumbled from Rose’s mouth, and she colored, instantly aware of her mistake. “Oh,” she said, her voice soft. “It must have been your birthday.”
“Nope,” Viv said. She sat on Rose’s trunk and began to brazenly readjust her stockings. Maude joined her and began to study her own seams. There are always leaders and followers, I thought, and it only took a minute to figure out which was which.
Viv focused her attention on my sister. “Tuesdays are Tom Collins nights,” she explained. “I figure it’s a neglected day of the week, why not give it a distinguishing characteristic?” The girls erupted in laughter.
Obviously unsure of how to respond, Rose looked at me in silent appeal. “You gals been here awhile?” I asked, changing the subject.
“Long enough to know what’s what,” Viv answered.
I caught Rose’s eye and gave a little nod. Once again she extracted Asher’s photograph and placed it on the trunk. “We’re looking for someone,”