Killing Gifts by Deborah Woodworth Read Free Book Online Page B

asked.
    â€œWhat? Oh, no, nothing at all.” Gennie flashed a quick, confident smile. Rose sensed this wasn’t the truth, but she didn’t press. Gennie belonged to the world now. Pride had become more important to her, and it was no longer Rose’s job to wean her from it. Rose supposed her own sadness over this state of affairs must be close to what a parent feels when a child grows up and seems to forget everything she was so carefully taught. Perhaps this is a lesson for my own humility, Rose chided herself as a dining car waiter escorted them to their table. I can’t teach everyone to be a Shaker!
    They sat side by side in silence, Gennie again by the window, until their soup course had been served. Though she was used to eating in silence, Rose longed to get Gennie talking. To be truthful, she felt intimidated by the nearness of a waiter, who stood at attention in front of their table, steadying himself against the wall of the dining car. Not by so much as the flicker of an eye had he betrayed any surprise at seeing Rose still in her long, loose Shaker dress and thin white cap. With his starched white jacket and his impassive face, he looked more like an ebony statue than a man, but Rose knew that if she signaled to him, he’d be there instantly. She noticed that the other diners ignored the waiters, stationed every few tables, as if they were not quite human. She could not. Shakers served one another, and they believed that all people, whatever their skin color, were equal in the eyes of God. While Rose believed fervently in such a way of life, it was making conversation awkward for her.
    When it was time to remove their empty soup plates, Rose noticed that another waiter—younger and bigger—spoke briefly with their waiter, then exchanged places with him. As their new waiter swept away the soiled plates and carried them to the back of the car, Rose took advantage of his absence. She touched Gennie’s arm lightly and said, “I hope you aren’t regretting your desire to come along on this trip. I know it’s far away from Grady, and from home, and—”
    â€œRose, I’m not scared, honest! Oh, I know I’ve been much quieter than I usually am, but I’ve just been thinking, that’s all. Now, let’s talk about how we’re going to solve this crime. What’s the plan?” She gazed at Rose with raised eyebrows over brown eyes that brimmed with confidence in Rose’s ability to figure everything out.
    â€œWell, I guess we can talk about that now, if you wish.”
    At that moment, the waiter returned carrying two plates of roast beef, potatoes, and crisp green beans. Rose was unused to so much food after so little work, and she was alarmed at the prospect of eating everything on her plate to avoid wasting it.
    â€œWould you care for coffee now or later, miss?” The waiter asked, looking toward Gennie. Rose noticed that he did not make the same offer to her.
    â€œAfter, thanks,” Gennie said, with her most charming smile. The waiter nodded and withdrew to his position in front of their table.
    â€œSo what should I be?” Gennie asked. “A novitiate maybe? I think I could pull that off without too much trouble.”
    Rose shook her head and thought quickly. She wanted to keep Gennie out of danger as much as possible for both their sakes. If Gennie lived with the hired women in Hancock Village, Rose would spend half her time worrying about what sort of danger she might foolishly plunge into headlong. A boardinghouse in Pittsfield would be the safest place for her. “Nay, I’d rather you spent more of your time getting to know the hired workers,” Rose said. “You know what it’s like—we have to hire people for much of the work, especially the farming, because our brethren are too few and often too far advanced in years to do it all themselves. But then we’ve let the world into our lives, and