Read Online The Pink Suit: A Novel by Nicole Kelby - Free Book Online Page B

the fish-and-chips finally arrived. It was nearly midnight by then. Mrs. Brown brought the meal out herself, as if the delivery of food were a command performance at the Gaiety. Her makeup was bright. Her hair was whipped into a fresh bouffant with a bow at the crown. There was an air of Evening in Paris and Niagara Starch about her. Kate could not believe that she’d freshened up, as the Ladies would say, to deliver fish.
    â€œHere we go!”
    The woman was beaming, cheery—at midnight. That was a feat that was worthy of a standing ovation. Kate could barely keep her eyes open.
    The fish was the classic “one and one,” one cod loin and one serving of chips, served on top of brown paper bags. A mason jar of onion vinegar was placed between them; a handful of pickled pearl onions floated to the top. Just like at home.
    Once she had served them, Mrs. Brown didn’t leave. She stood for a moment, smiling. She seemed to be waiting for something.
    â€œThank you,” Kate said. “Looks absolutely delicious.”
    â€œSo, how is Her Elegance these days? Taking to the mantle well, is she?”
    Kate was used to people asking her about the Wife. “She’s lovely. Quite well. Busy, obviously.”
    â€œObviously.”
    Mrs. Brown looked so very pleased, as if she had been given an unexpected gift. “Well. Eat up, then,” she said, and left them to their dinner.
    Patrick shook his head at Kate. “She nearly died of joy, chatting you up about the First Lady. You shouldn’t have on with people like that. She’s quite dear.”
    â€œIt made her happy.”
    â€œAnd you, too. You’re positively glowing.”
    Kate had already put a chip in her mouth and burned the roof of it. She didn’t care. The chip was fried perfectly—crisp on the outside and soft on the inside. She took another sip of beer and broke the fish apart with her hands. The cod was sweet and fresh; the batter was golden and crisp. The vinegar provided the right sharp note of acid.
    â€œYou eat like you’ve been in prison,” he said.
    â€œLet us just say that our dear Maggie Quinn cannot be accused of being a good cook.”
    â€œAnd you?”
    â€œRuns in the family, I’m afraid.”
    Mr. Brown delivered yet another round of beer. Patrick leaned back in the booth and smiled at Kate. “It’s nice to eat together again. I miss those Sundays when Mam would have you come around.”
    â€œI miss the cake.” Kate looked at her watch. “Almighty. I have to go to work in four hours. Saturday is always busy.”
    â€œFinish your beer.”
    â€œI may be drunk.”
    â€œThat will be two of us.”
    â€œWhat would Father John say?”
    â€œHe’d order me a whiskey for courage.”
    The words made Kate’s hands sweat. Patrick took a long pull of his beer and then put it down. “We should do this more often,” he said. “On a regular basis. I’ve been thinking about it.”
    â€œAnd why?”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œYes. Why have you been thinking of it? You’re between telephone operators, aren’t you? Another tossed you aside?”
    â€œKate, you’re not making this easy.”
    â€œPatrick, you’re making no sense. We see each other nearly every day. That’s pretty regular.”
    â€œThis is why I should have ordered the whiskey,” he said. “Look. Yesterday, Maggie Quinn stopped by for a dice of pork and told me that your Mr. Charles wants you to start a shop with him. A mom-and-pop sort of thing, she said. The kind of thing married people do.”
    â€œMarried?”
    He raised his hand to silence her. “And when I heard that, I suddenly thought, I’ve lost her.”
    â€œMaggie Quinn has a very big mouth.”
    â€œHave I lost you, Kate?”
    â€œAm I yours to lose?”
    â€œI thought we should figure that out.”
    â€œYou did? So