“Ahhh.”
“And he’s not my type. I’m looking for more out of life than settling down with a local guy. I want to go places and see things. New York City. Maybe even Hollywood. I’m looking for a real hero.”
Jen dug in her coat pockets and pulled out some gloves. “You don’t want much, do you?”
“I just won’t settle. Kate Vanderloo can say what she wants, but I’m never going to marry someone local.”
“All right, then.” Yet Jen still had that impish grin on her face. “Let’s go.”
Minnie finished buttoning her worn hand-me-down coat and followed her sister. The moment she stepped outside, a blast of icy wind knocked her hat off her head. It tumbled and rolled toward the street. Before she could retrieve it, a fancy new car glided past. Its deep blue finish gleamed. The chrome grille sparkled. Every inch of it looked fast and expensive.
She grabbed Jen’s arm, her hat forgotten. “Look at that. I wonder who owns it. He must be rich to afford an automobile like that.”
Jen dug her hands deeper into her coat pockets. “I suppose.”
“I’ve never seen the car before,” Minnie mused. “It’s not Mr. Kensington’s or Mr. Neidecker’s or anyone else’s from the Hill.” Everyone referred to the wealthy neighborhood above Green Lake as the Hill. “He must be a newcomer. He could be a motion-picture actor.”
Jen rolled her eyes and started toward the dress shop. “In Pearlman?”
“Why not?” By the time Minnie retrieved her hat, the frigid air had numbed her cheeks and fingertips. She hurried after Jen. “Maybe he’s a new student at the airfield.”
“There won’t be any new students until spring.”
“Then who could he be?” Minnie leaned over the frozen street, trying to see where the car went, but she lost sight of it after it passed the bank. “Maybe he’s just passing through.”
“No one just passes through Pearlman.”
Jen had a point. That meant a newcomer in town—an important newcomer. Hopefully, he was a bachelor.
* * *
Minnie had smiled at him.
The thought warmed Peter on the short walk to the orphanage. Not only had Minnie smiled at him, but she’d also said nice things. Mariah’s lucky to have a brother like Peter. That was just about as close as Minnie had ever gotten to giving him a compliment. Didn’t matter that Mariah wasn’t really his sister or even his real sister-in-law. She’d married Peter’s foster brother, Hendrick. Seeing as Peter didn’t have kin—leastways none he wanted to acknowledge—that made Hendrick and Mariah as good as family. He’d do anything for them. Still, it was good of Minnie to notice.
The orphanage was in chaos, the older kids chasing the younger ones around. No wonder Mariah had reached the end of her patience. Those kids needed something to keep them busy. When he’d been in the New York orphanage, he’d learned carpentry and how to fix things. The older kids needed something like that—a place to go and someone to teach them. But this was Pearlman, not New York. There just weren’t that many places a kid could go.
Peter dropped off the medicine and scooted out, saying he had to get back to the garage. That was kinda true. He’d closed the doors while he ran the errand and hoped Hendrick would understand. Business was slow this time of year, both at the motor garage and in the factory. His almost-brother had gotten edgy lately, but he refused to take a cent from Mariah’s family. Peter respected that. A man had to have his pride.
He dug his hands into his jacket pockets and trudged down Main Street. Kate Vanderloo and her friends entered the new department store, still giggling and chattering like a flock of blackbirds getting ready to head south.
Why did Minnie have to see him fetching female tonic for his sister-in-law? He didn’t mind the likes of Kate Vanderloo snickering at him. She was a selfish snob. But Minnie was good, through and through. He was gonna ask her to join him at the church supper on Wednesday, but after the way those girls teased her, she got all jumpy. Minnie couldn’t seem to hold up to that kinda talk. She was always wanting to look like some movie star, but to his way of thinking she had them beat a hundred times over.
A throaty car horn jerked Peter out of his thoughts. He knew every car in Pearlman, and none of them had a horn that sounded like that. This blast came from a gleaming new Pierce-Arrow touring car that inched down Main Street alongside him.
“Hey there, Stringbean,” shouted the man behind the wheel.
Peter squinted into the glare of the late-day sun. No one had called him Stringbean since the orphanage. Even there, only one person used the nickname.
“Vince?” The driver sounded like Peter’s old friend, but this man had slicked-back hair and a fancy suit. Gold cuff links flashed in the sun. “Vince Galbini?”
“You got it, kid. I said I’d look ya up, and here I am.”
Peter couldn’t get over it. “How’d you find me? Mariah said Mr. Isaacs closed the orphanage.”
“I got my contacts in the old neighborhood. They told me you were sent here.”
That made sense. Mariah had gone back to the orphanage after all the orphans on the train were placed in families. She’d probably told everyone working there that he’d found a home with the Simmons family. From there, the news would have spread through the neighborhood.
“You kept your promise,” Peter said in astonishment. “I can’t believe it. You said you’d find me again, and you did.” Pleasure surged through him at the thought. “You remembered.”
“’Course I did, kid. Vincent Galbini always keeps his promises.”
Vince rapped his hand against the car door, a gold ring clinking against the metal. “Let’s catch up on old times. Where do you call home?”
Peter didn’t want his old pal to see that he was living in an orphanage, even though he wasn’t there as an orphan. Vince had clearly risen in the world. Peter, on the other hand, was just trudging along.
“I’m headed back to the motor garage.” Peter pointed down the street and puffed out his chest. “I’m a mechanic now, and I manage the place.”
Vince whistled. “I heard you were working on cars, but I didn’t know you were the man in charge. You’re doing all right, kid.”
Peter stood a bit taller under the compliment. Vince was proud of him. Vince Galbini, the man who’d taught him how to measure and cut two pieces of wood so they joined without a gap. Peter had learned how to plane and sand and finish from him. Most of all, he’d learned to respect each piece of wood, to feel the flow of the grain and use that to make the perfect cut.
Vince had sure changed in four years. He’d been a hard-luck carpenter from the neighborhood who liked to help out at the orphanage. His trousers were always patched. His stained shirts looked more gray than white. His cap had hidden a mop of wiry hair that rarely saw soap and water, but he’d always had time for the kids, especially Peter.
A couple months before the orphan society plunked Peter on that train, Vince had stopped by to tell them he was leaving.
“I got a real good job,” he’d said with a grin. “They’ll be throwin’ buckets of money at me.”
Vince loved to exaggerate. No one believed he’d really get that kind of money. Except Peter. When Vince promised to come back for Peter after making his stake, Peter clung to that promise. He waited at mail call. He prayed for a telephone call. He sat in the front window and watched the street. No letter, no call, no Vince. Then Mr. Isaacs put Peter on the train, and he figured he’d never see his friend again.
Yet here Vince was, and it sure looked like the company had thrown those buckets of money