Free Mrs. Houdini by Victoria Kelly Page A

all kinds of fasteners. It’s your talent.”
    He laughed. “You’re a smart one.”
    She hesitated. “There’s one more thing, and it’s something I can’t control. Whenever I’m nervous, my hands shake. I’ve tried, but I can’t stop it. What if they shake onstage?”
    Harry smoothed her head. “You won’t have to do any of the difficult restraints. Just leave those to me.”
    â€œFine. But you have to do something for me first.” She hesitated. Voicing her request made her anxious. She wasn’t even sure it was what she wanted. “We’re married now. I want to introduce you to my mother.”
    â€œShe’s not going to like me, you said so yourself,” Harry said, frowning.
    Bess thought about it. He was probably right. “We’ll see.”
    â€œI’m ashamed that I’m poor, but I’m not going to be ashamed that I’m Jewish.”
    â€œNo one’s asking you to be.”
    He folded the tights and put them back into the drawer among his other costumes, which had been carelessly stuffed inside. “Why does it matter to you that I meet her? You said you had moved in with your sister.”
    â€œBecause,” Bess said, “if you want me to meet your mother—and you said you did—it’s only fair that you meet mine. We’re not going to start this marriage off unfairly. You said it yourself—you want me on your billing, by your side. Not in the wings.”
    Harry sighed. “All right. Let’s go today then, and we’ll meet each other’s mothers. And anyway, we’re leaving next week for the circus, and we’ll have to tell them.”
    Bess glanced around his room, seeing it clearly now, for the first time in daylight. It was disastrous. His clothes lay in piles in the corners, covered in dust and dirt, and the place smelled strongly of sweat. Empty lemonade bottles were stacked on the bureau. Harry came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. “It’s only temporary,” he said, as if reading her mind.
    Bess grimaced. “That’s good.”
    â€œThere’s a Yiddish word my mother used to use: balaboosta . It means homemaker. That’s what she was. Always very organized. As you can see, I don’t have those same skills. Now you’ll be my balaboosta.” He grinned.
    â€œOh, I will?” Bess wasn’t sure she wanted to be anyone’s balaboosta. She had grown up in a house full of children and had never envied her mother the enormous tasks of housekeeping she faced every day.
    Harry pulled her down onto the bed and flipped her over so he was lying on top of her. For a moment she wasn’t sure whether he was going to smack her or kiss her. Then he ran his fingers under her dress and began to tickle her mercilessly. Bess shrieked.
    â€œSay you will!” He laughed. “Say you’ll do it!”
    â€œOkay, okay!” Bess cried, squirming under his grip. “I’ll be your balaboosta!”
    Harry sat up and smiled at her. “Good. I knew you’d come to your senses.”
    She tried to push him over, but he was too strong. “You are so infuriating!”
    Harry took her chin in his hand and kissed her. “But I’ll do my part,” he said. “I’m going to take care of you. I promise. You’ll have everything you want.”
    Looking around the room, she wasn’t so sure this would be true. But despite his flaws, she already loved this stranger beside her. She had loved his swagger onstage and his dark, impenetrable eyes, and now even his incompetence at housekeeping.
    She lay back on the bed and closed her eyes. “Have you ever been inside the Brighton Beach Hotel?”
    â€œNot yet.”
    â€œNeither have I. But I’ve memorized their menu. Littleneck clams, baked bluefish, meringue for dessert.”
    â€œOne day,” Harry said, “we can go