Free On the Nickel by John Shannon Page B

she’d gone back, or she’d gone back to work with her order on some dispensation. The coincidence was just too great, but life was like that.
    Maeve vaguely remembered that her dad and Eleanor had been tied together and thrown down a storm drain during a heavy rain by a couple of Mafia thugs, and the relationship had turned out badly after that. The poor woman couldn’t handle her dad’s life, she had said, like several other women had said later. But why not? Her dad had never been a Sunday School picnic, but he always gritted his teeth and set off up that sad lonely honorable road that everybody else just talked about. It was why she loved him so desperately, and Eleanor Ong should have, too.
    Maeve brought Felice and Millie out of the car, clutching their string-wrapped suitcases. Once they were into the yard, Maeve closed the gate behind them so it at least appeared to be locked. ‘That woman said she’ll find you a place to sleep. I gotta go.’ She felt terribly vulnerable out there on the street alone but she didn’t want to get mixed up with the nun.
    ‘Thank you, Maeve,’ Felice called through the fence. ‘You been a prayer’s answer. We won’t forget you.’
    ‘I won’t let you. I’ll come tomorrow and find out how you’re doing. I want to get the doll some clothes.’ Though she had a ton of second thoughts about coming back here. She was afraid Eleanor would recognize her in some way. But that was a pretty long shot. Eleanor reappeared as they were still talking, and she decided she’d better disguise her voice a little.
    The nun greeted Felice and Millie warmly where they waited patiently. ‘You’ll have to be on fold-a-beds for a few days, but they’re pretty comfortable. I use one of them myself. You’ll have a private space and you can lock the door. We’ll get you some food tonight if you haven’t eaten.’
    ‘Oh, no, we ate up a storm thanks to this kind young lady.’
    Eleanor turned to look at her, and Maeve decided it was past time to split. ‘Gotta go,’ she called in an unnaturally deep voice.
    That only drew Eleanor’s attention. ‘The Lady Lone Ranger rides off. Hi-yo, Silver.’
    ‘That’s sexist,’ Maeve said automatically, then fought to unlock her car.
    ‘I think I knew a girl like you once,’ Sister Mary Rose called wistfully. ‘I have a memory for faces.’
    ‘No way. No no. I’m from Kansas.’
    ‘Give my regards to the others in your family back in Kansas.’
    All the hair on the back of Maeve’s neck stood on end.
    There was a soft rap on Conor’s door, and he guessed, by its volume if nothing else, that it probably wasn’t anybody dangerous. He opened on a very short old man wearing one of those Jewish skullcaps, navy blue with a white pattern around the rim – what were they called? He felt bad he didn’t remember. The man also wore a thick wool suit and white shirt but no tie.
    ‘Hello, sir.’
    ‘You’re new here. I’m your neighbor, Samuel Greengelb. I bet Vartabedian’s gonifs haven’t had a chance to threaten you yet. Feh, the room smells of carbolic.’
    ‘It’s just 409. I was spraying to clean up the cockroaches.’
    ‘With all due respect, nu, you should spray the gonifs the first time you see them. That will take the smell away. Listen, have we met?’
    ‘No, sir, I don’t think so.’
    The old man sighed. ‘I have to check these days. I sometimes forget things.’
    ‘Come in, sir, please. Mr Greengelb. My name is Conor Lewis.’
    ‘An interesting name. Of the Irish, no?’ He took a step inside the room.
    Conor shrugged. ‘The last name is Welsh really, but my mom was real Irish, from Cork – Brigid Glanchy. That where-you’re-from stuff doesn’t mean anything to me. I’m a mongrel American.’
    ‘Heritage should mean to you, my son. Look, there are three of us who live here for many years, and we’re fighting back against the new landlord. We joke we are the three Musketeers. The new owner of this hole is Armenian