“You've a good heart, Molly,” Daniel said, “but this arrangement can't go on forever. I'm not entirely comfortable with you living up there with a man whose wife is back in Ireland.”
I laughed. “Not comfortable, Daniel? Seamus O'Connor is a perfectly harmless individual—you've seen him yourself. Hardly the greatest catch in New York. What's more, we have a kitchen and hallway between us to keep things proper, and Mrs. O'Hallaran downstairs too, keeping an eye on things.”
“That's not the point,” Daniel said. “People will talk. Do you want them saying you're a kept woman?”
“Certainly not.”
“Then may I suggest you listen to me and find a suitable job for yourself that will not end in disaster.”
His reminders of my dismal failures in the world of commerce were beginning to rile me. I didn't like to fail at anything. “If you really want to know, I'm still planning to follow my original idea and set myself up as a private investigator.” I threw this out more to annoy him than anything.
Daniel rolled his eyes and gave a despairing chuckle. “Molly, women do not become investigators. I thought we'd been through all this before.”
“I don't see why not. I thought I was pretty good at it.”
“Apart from almost getting yourself killed.”
“Right. Apart from that. But I told you. I don't plan to deal with criminal cases. Nothing dangerous. I still keep thinking about all those people when I was leaving Liverpool, Daniel. They were desperate for knowledge of their loved ones who had come to America. I'd be doing good work if I united families again, wouldn't I?”
“Did it ever occur to you that the loved ones might not want to be found?” he asked. “And anyway, how would you set about this—this detective business? You'd need an office to start with, and you'd have to advertise …”
“I know that too!”
“And if you discovered that the loved one you were seeking had gone to California, would you take the train to find him? Families of immigrants won't have money to pay.”
“So I'd need some capital to get started.” I paused to watch an elegant open carriage pass on the road beyond the trees. Lovely women in wide white hats and young men in blazers sat chatting and laughing as if they hadn't a care in the world—which they probably hadn't. “And I'd just have to take some cases that paid well.”
Daniel turned to me and took my hands in his. “Molly, please put this foolish idea to rest. You don't need to set yourself up as anything. You need a pleasant, dignified job that pays the rent, for the time being, that's all.”
“Maybe I won't be content with a pleasant little job. Maybe I want to make something of myself.”
He laughed again, uneasily this time. “It's not as if you're a man and need to be thinking of a future career. Only something to bide your time until some fellow snaps you up.”
His eyes were teasing again, all seriousness apparently forgotten.
“Snaps me up? But surely you know I'm a hopeless case? Already turned twenty-three and therefore officially on the shelf.”
“You? You'll never find yourself on the shelf, Molly. You'll be just as fascinating at fifty.”
“Hardly a comforting thought,” I said. “Still a companion at fifty? Shall we go on walking?” I got to my feet. This conversation was definitely not leading where I wanted it to. Daniel had had several chances to state his intentions and failed miserably at all of them. It wasn't as if he were either hesitant or shy. Then he said something that made me realize how his brain might be working.
“I wish you'd give the companion's position a try, Molly. Miss Van Woekem is well respected in New York society. My parents really look up to her. Being with her would give you an introduction into society here.”
Then it dawned on me. That was why he was hesitating—he didn't want to marry an Irish peasant girl fresh from the old sod. I'd left Ireland with its snobbery and class prejudice and crossed the Atlantic to find that same snobbery alive and flourishing in the New World. And he with parents who came over with nothing in the great famine! Well, if that was how Daniel Sullivan thought—I opened my mouth to tell him what he could do with his companion's job, and with Miss Van What's-it too. I stopped myself at the last second. He presumably thought he was doing this for my own good. He wanted me to fit in and become acceptable and accepted in society here. What's more, it certainly beat out fish gutting. What did I have to lose? “All right, if you think I should take it, I'm prepared to give it a try.”
He stopped and put his hands on my shoulders. “That's my girl,” he said, kissing me on the forehead.