Somebody Wonderful by Kate Rothwell Read Free Book Online

McCann.”
    In the small foyer, she pulled him aside. “I, ah, told Mrs. Tucker my name is Cooper. I hope you don’t mind calling me that?”
    He shook his arm free and scowled down at her. “Are you wanted by the law, Miss Calverson?”
    “Nothing like that. No. I will explain later, but I promise you that I am not a fugitive.”
    He squinted at her for a long moment. “All right then. Miss Cooper it is. And even if you are a hardened criminal, you come on and down a bit of food. You must be half starved.”
    They walked out the door. On the sidewalk, he stopped for a moment and turned to face her. He pushed back his shoulders, folded his arms and stood, legs apart, shifting from boot to boot. The universal stance of a policeman.
    He didn’t look her in the face. Instead he gazed over her shoulder, as if searching for something behind her, and spoke in a halting mutter. “Er. I don’t know if . . . um. I should apologize for going at you this morning. Even if tis your usual, ah . . . After your rough day yesterday, I didn’t think . . . So. I am truly sorry.”
    She was fascinated to see him blush. Before she could answer, he strode away, so fast she had to trot to catch up with him.
     
     
    Mick led them to Colsun’s Restaurant, a dingy, crowded room in the first floor of a building down the street. It had a stale fug that Timona suspected would cling to anyone who even walked past the place: a mix of cigars, grease, and coffee.
    The wooden floor of Colsun’s was dark and scarred and probably hadn’t been swept in days. The hard chairs were almost as dirty as the floor they stuck to.
    Most of the patrons were laboring men taking a quick breakfast before heading off to work. Rob, Jenny, and Mick settled at a table. Timona had followed after them and sat down, hoping to look as if she belonged.
    She now wore a gown that smelled of smoke, hung like a tent on her, and was a purple so loud it gave her stomach pains. But it was a dress, not the boy’s breeches she’d worn, and she felt nothing but gratitude to Jenny for it. Her feet fit into a pair of thick leather boots that nobody needed right now. They were too small for Rob and too big for the next boy down.
    The two waiters lounged in a corner, chatting and ignoring the customers.
    At last one of them ambled over and cleared off their table. He removed his toothpick, rubbed his hands on the stained apron covering his front, then plopped a thick, white mug of coffee down in front of each of them.
    “Eggs, please, Teddy,” Mick told the waiter, and said to the others, “Be right back.” He went to the back of the restaurant and pulled open the kitchen door. He cupped his hands and shouted something over the din into the kitchen.
    A burly, scowling man soon appeared with a basket for Henry to take back to the widow’s apartment. Mick paid the man and strolled toward the table, stopped by several people along the way. He smiled and shook his head. They’d invited him to sit down.
    A popular man, Mr. McCann.
    He handed the basket to Henry and gave the boy an affectionate pat on the shoulder. “Not too heavy for you?”
    “Mr. Mick!” Henry was scornful. Then he must have caught his mother’s eye, for he gave them each a polite nod of the head, and raced out of therestaurant toting the basket with two hands.
    When Mick sat down, Rob and Jenny looked over at him expectantly, as if he held the answer to all of their unasked questions.
    Timona picked at the runny scrambled eggs and listened.
    “Thing is, I think you have to watch Tuck every time now when he smokes his pipe.” said Mick, as he spread something that probably wasn’t butter onto his toast.
    “It’s the fourth time the poor man has fallen asleep while smoking.” Jenny put down her mug. “You think he’d learn.”
    Rob glanced around the crowded, noisome little café as if he were afraid someone might be listening. “He can’t help it, Ma.”
    “He was drunk,” Jenny said. “That’s