Free Mrs. Houdini by Victoria Kelly Page B

there. We’ll come with our servants and stay the whole summer. We’ll watch the races along Ocean Parkway on Sundays. And we’ll have one dinner in the hotel and after the fireworks we’ll go over to Tappan’s for a second dinner.”
    Bess laughed. “Yes. Instead of Paddy Shea’s. Anna thinks that’s the height of elegance. But then again, she also dreams of staying in the Elephant Hotel on her honeymoon.” Compared to the Brighton Beach Hotel, with its white curtains and silver chargers in the dining room, the Elephant Hotel was garish; it was built in the shape of an elephant, with rooms that were cramped and dark.
    â€œWith the cigar shop in front? You’re kidding.”
    Bess shook her head. “What did you do before you were Harry Houdini?” she asked. “Do you have any skills beside magic?”
    â€œDo you mean how will I support you if I fail at magic? Well, I won’t fail,” he said. “But, to humor you, I can tell you I was very efficient as an assistant necktie cutter for a little while. At H. Richter’s Sons in New York.”
    Bess sat up. “H. Richter’s? Next to Siegel-Cooper? I worked as a waitress in their café during high school! Do you think we’ve met before?”
    Harry thought about it. “I quit five years ago. So you would have just started.”
    Bess tried to remember the faces of the patrons who used to frequent the restaurant, but they were only shadows. “I do think it’s possible. The men from H. Richter’s came in for coffee all the time.”
    â€œWhat were you doing working at fourteen anyway?”
    The hair rose on Bess’s arms. “My stepfather was—is still, I suppose—a terrible drunk. I don’t think he’ll be there when we go to Brooklyn, thank God. He’s never there. But after my mother married him, he used to come into my room at night. At first it was nothing—just friendly kisses on the cheek, to say good night. Then one night, when I was sixteen, he tried to climb into bed with me. I kicked him so hard he was laid up for a week. After that, I moved into my sister’s apartment with her and her new husband. So I got a job to help pay my part of the rent.”
    Harry stroked her head. “You poor thing.” His expression was pensive. “I think a part of me remembers meeting you and a part of you remembers me. Even if the memories are not on the surface right now. Maybe that’s why I was so drawn to you.”
    â€œI thought you didn’t believe in things like fate?”
    Harry shrugged. “Well, I believe in stories. Sometimes we can make them true even when they’re not.”

    Mrs. Weiss lived in a walk-up tenement apartment on East Sixty-Ninth Street with Harry’s younger sister, Gladys, and brother Leo. Leo worked on the docks and was rarely at home, but Gladys led them into the living area. She was a tiny girl, barely twelve years old, and very frail, her wrists thin as rope. Bess saw her standing in the doorway—she was clearly blind and stared right past them into the darkness of the hallway; the right side of her face was marred with faint scars. Harry hadn’t told her anything about his siblings, never mind a blind sister who had certainly been the victim of some kind of accident—but it was clear the girl worshiped him. She grasped his arm as he led her toward the faded pink sofa where Mrs. Weiss was waiting in a black lace church dress, hands clasped in her lap, to receive them. Her gray hair was tied neatly behind her head in a low bun.
    â€œMein geliebter Sohn!” she cried, reaching up to embrace Harry, tears streaming down her face. She kissed both sides of his face three times. Harry had told Bess that Mrs. Weiss didn’t know a word of English. German was the language of the household, and Bess had fortunately learned a conversational use of it in her own house, although her