Free The Chaperone by Laura Moriarty Page A

with the heat, she was hungry. If she simply ate what the girl couldn’t, they would be able to leave the table that much more quickly. Both men seemed to have finished eating, their plates gone, linen napkins rumpled in front of them.
    Cora looked at Louise. “Thank you. It’s too bad they couldn’t offer you something smaller, something from the children’s menu. Did you tell them that you’re only fifteen?”
    Louise narrowed her eyes. Now Cora smiled, using her knife and fork to transfer the piece of chicken onto her own plate. There were rolls, too, she saw now, and she took one from the basket. She would have to pace herself. The corset only allowed her to eat a little at a time.
    The older man moved his hand away from Louise’s shoulder. He crossed his arms in front of him, looking across the table at Cora. His expression seemed to beg her pardon.
    “Mrs. Carlisle.” His voice was friendly. “Are you from Wichita as well?”
    She nodded. The waiter walked up with her lemonade, saw the secondhand chicken on her plate, and, with the slightest of sneers, took her menu away.
    Louise leaned across the table. “These two are Wichita firemen. Isn’t that something? Everybody loves firemen. And we get to sit at their table.”
    Cora frowned. She’d had the men pegged as salesmen, or somehow involved in something coarse. It would be harder to be short with men who regularly risked their lives to save people from burning buildings. Then again, firemen or not, they didn’t seem entirely noble. On the older man’s left hand, which had just moved away from Louise’s shoulder, Cora spied the glint of a wedding ring.
    “We’re on our way to Chicago. Fire school.” He tapped the butt of his cigar into a silver ashtray.
    “Fire school.” Cora sipped her lemonade, which was perfect, not too sweet and surprisingly cold. “I didn’t know there was such a thing.”
    “Certainly. There’s a lot for us to know. We don’t just aim the hoses and spray. We have to learn about building materials. Chemistry. We’ll see all the newest tools and techniques.” He smiled at Cora. “How long have you lived in Wichita?”
    “Since my marriage.”
    “And before that?”
    “McPherson.”
    “You don’t say!” The man gestured toward his nephew. “His father and I are both from McPherson! I’m a bit older than you, I believe. But what was your maiden name?”
    “Kaufmann.”
    He shook his head, looking closely at her face.
    “We lived far out. We had a farm.”
    “Ah, a country girl.” He smiled at her in a way that seemed too familiar. Louise looked at Cora and flexed her brows.
    Cora held up her finger as she was chewing, and even after she swallowed, she made a point of not returning the smile. “Not so much anymore,” she said. “My husband and I have been in Wichita for a while now.” She felt more at ease, mentioning Alan.
    “Are your people still in McPherson?”
    “No. It was just me and my parents. They both died some time ago.”
    “I see.” His gaze moved over her face. “Well. Your young friend tells us you’re on your way to New York.” The uncle puffed out a ring of smoke. “I’ve been there a few times. That’s a whole different level of city. Two women alone in New York? That sounds worrisome to me. Have you ever been there?”
    Cora shook her head. She didn’t like his tone. Two women alone. She was glad he and his nephew would be getting off in Chicago. She chewed quickly and swallowed.
    “It can be a rough place,” he continued, “especially these days. Kansas is used to liquor laws, but New York is still getting used to them.” He looked at his water glass and frowned. “I think the temperance movement may have overreached. New York won’t put up with Prohibition for long.”
    “Good,” Louise said, her elbow on the table, her chin in her hand. “I think Prohibition is stupid.”
    “I couldn’t agree more,” the nephew said, trying to lean into her line of vision. He