He beamed. “I like working with wood. It’s kinda creative. More’n fixing cars.” He flushed again. “I mean, more than fixing cars.”
In a way, Minnie appreciated that he tried to speak correctly around her, but it made him nervous, and a nervous Peter wouldn’t divulge what she needed to know.
“I’m glad he taught you. Be sure to thank him for me and for my father. Daddy appreciates the bed table that you made for him. The casters make it easy to move into place, and it lets him work on the accounts. It helps him feel—” her throat swelled before saying the last word “—useful.”
Peter shrugged. “I liked making it.” He shifted his weight, telling her this conversation had gone on too long.
“Well, I suppose I should get home.”
“Me, too.”
Minnie wouldn’t exactly call Constance House a home, but Peter had moved in with his foster brother and sister-in-law a couple of years ago to help out at the orphanage.
“See you later.” Peter headed back into the garage.
If she didn’t get the answer she needed now, she’d never know. “I hope you get to spend time with your friend tonight.”
Peter halted, his expression quizzical.
“Before he has to go home to his family,” she added and then held her breath.
He shrugged. “Oh, he’ll be back on Saturday.” Then he returned to work.
Minnie didn’t follow. He hadn’t told her what she wanted to know, but she had time to find out. Between now and Saturday, she would transform herself into a woman who would dazzle Peter’s friend.
* * *
Peter had let an opportunity slip away to ask Minnie if she would help with the upholstery, but he didn’t realize it until he sat down to supper and Mariah asked about his day. Long ago, they’d learned to feed the children first and then have the older orphans read to the younger ones so the adults could eat in relative peace. That gave them the chance to catch up and take care of any pressing business.
“Anything interesting happen today?” Mariah asked him.
Hendrick looked up hopefully. “Any new business?”
Peter swallowed a mouthful of mashed potatoes as his mind flitted over the surprising events of the past several hours. “An old friend stopped by after I dropped off your medicine. Do you remember Vince?”
She shook her head.
“Vincent Galbini. He helped out around the orphanage in New York.”
“Oh, yes. I remember him now.” Mariah set down her fork. She still looked a little out of sorts. “He used to do odd jobs, carpentry and repair work, right?”
Peter nodded. “He’s the one who taught me to work with wood.”
“At least one blessing came out of his work there.”
The strange feeling that something wasn’t right returned, but Peter shoved it away. He must have misread his sister-in-law. “Yes, ma’am. I’m sure grateful for that. Having something to do kept me out of trouble.”
Mariah smiled briefly before her brow furrowed again. “The last I heard, he found work somewhere, but I can’t quite recall where he went. Brooklyn? New Jersey? Baltimore?” She shook her head. “I can’t remember, but that’s not the point. Whatever would bring him to Pearlman?”
“He promised.” Peter gulped down a swig of milk. “The day Vince left the orphanage, he promised to find me once he got ahead.”
“He did?” Mariah glanced at Hendrick before returning her attention to Peter. “That’s quite a commitment for someone with Mr. Galbini’s prospects.”
Her words rubbed Peter the wrong way. “He told me he was going to get a good job, one that paid a lot.”
“Money does not bring happiness.”
But it sure doesn’t hurt. Peter bowed his head to hide his feelings. Mariah had never known hunger. She hadn’t scavenged through garbage or risked jail for a bit of bread. She hadn’t slept on the sewer grate hoping for a little warmth when the snow fell. The raw pain of those months on the street came back as if they had happened yesterday. “He’s doing good for himself. He’s got nice clothes, and the job pays good.”
“Well,” Mariah corrected.
“Well,” Peter repeated, though he wasn’t quite sure what part of his sentence he’d gotten wrong.
Mariah picked at her potatoes before leveling her gaze at him again. “How did he find you?”
“He said he talked to friends back in New York who knew I’d been sent here.”
“Hmm. I suppose that’s possible. We never kept it a secret that you and the other children found good homes in Pearlman.” An impish smile curved her lips. “So you’re telling me that he came all this way to fulfill a promise, and you didn’t invite him to supper?”
“Uh, he had to leave.” Peter didn’t want to admit he’d been ashamed to invite Vince to the orphanage. He shouldn’t feel that way. After all, he wasn’t an orphan anymore. Not exactly.
“He headed back to Brooklyn?” Mariah looked confused. “Already?”
“No. He lives in Chicago now.” Peter pushed the canned peas across his plate. This was beginning to feel like an interrogation.
“That’s still a long drive,” Hendrick said. “You should have asked him to stay with us.”
“I—I think he’s staying at Terchie’s.” At least Peter assumed he was at the boardinghouse.
Hendrick scowled. “Isn’t our place good enough?”
Peter swallowed hard and stared at his plate of food. He wasn’t hungry anymore, but he couldn’t face his foster brother’s reproach.
To his surprise, Mariah rescued him. “It was quite thoughtful of Mr. Galbini to take other lodging. Peter must have told him we were full.”
Peter felt even worse. Why had he been so ashamed to tell Vince he was living at the orphanage? What would it matter to a guy who used to help out at one?
Mariah continued, “I may have to change my opinion of Mr. Galbini. It shows considerable integrity to keep a fleeting promise to a boy.”
Peter squirmed. “Well, that wasn’t the only reason he stopped by. He wanted to know if I could do some work for him.”
That caught Hendrick’s attention. “What kind of work?” Peter’s foster brother was still in charge of the garage, though he’d handed over day-to-day management to Peter after his airplane-motor factory went into production.
Peter mashed the peas to pulp. “Nothing much. Just wants a luggage compartment for his car.”
“Oh.” Hendrick resumed eating. “You could make a rack like the one we built for Mariah’s Overland.”
Peter didn’t point out that Vince wanted something entirely different.
“What make of car?” Hendrick asked.
“Pierce-Arrow.”
Both Hendrick’s and Mariah’s eyebrows shot up.
Mariah picked up her fork. “Mr. Galbini must be doing very well in his new job to afford a Pierce-Arrow.”
“Real well,” Peter confirmed, “but the car isn’t his. It belongs to his boss.”
“Ah.