In Like Flynn (Molly Murphy Mysteries, #4)

Sid was standing at the stove, dressed this morning in an emerald green silk gentleman’s smoking jacket and baggy black pants that looked as if they had come from a harem. The striking effect was completed with her black hair that she wore straight and chin-length, like a child’s pageboy bob.

“Molly, my sweet. How good to see you. You're looking pale. Sit down and have some coffee and a hot roll.” Sid gave me a beaming smile and started pouring thick, murky liquid into a smallcup, then handed it to me. I took a sip, pretending, as always, that I liked my coffee to look and taste like East River sludge. Sid always insisted on Turkish coffee and French croissants in the morning. I'd no objections to the croissants, but I'd never learned to appreciate the coffee.

I sat in the chair that Gus had pulled out for me and accepted the still warm roll from her basket.

“And what were you doing up and about so bright and early this morning?” Gus asked.

“I didn't sleep so well last night.” I was willing to confess to that much. “I just needed to get out of the house and breathe good fresh air.”

“You're missing those O'Connors, that what’s the matter with you,” Gus said.

“I most certainly am not,” I replied indignantly. “I've spent most of my life looking after someone else’s children. I'm glad to be taking a break from them.”

The knowing look that passed between Sid and Gus didn't escape me.

“And anyway, they'll be back soon enough when Bridie is quite recovered and healthy again,” I went on. “She’s making splendid progress, you know. And in the meantime, I'm doing some seriousthinking about my future.”

They looked at each other again, this time with amusement.

“Did you hear that, Gus? Serious thinking about her future. Will she be reconsidering the earnest Mr. Singer’s proposal, do you think?”

I picked up The New York Times, which had been lying on the table. “Would you be quiet, you two? Why should you of all people think that any young woman’s future would automatically have to be linked to a marriage proposal? I have no intention in accepting any proposals, decent or indecent.”

Then I opened the paper and buried myself in the advertisements page, ignoring their chuckles.

“How about Nebraska?” I looked up expectantly from The Times and saw two bewildered faces staring at me.

“Nebraska?” Gus asked.

“Yes, listen to this. ’Schoolteacher needed for one room school-house. Start August. Must be unmarried, unencumbered, Christian, and of impeccable character. References required. Accommodation provided. Apply to the school board, Spalding, Nebraska.” I paused and looked up again. My friends were still smiling.

“Dearest Molly, are you suggesting that you should become a schoolmarm in Nebraska?” Sid asked, pushing her bobbed hair back from her face.

“Why not?” I demanded. “Do you not think I'm up to life on the frontier? And where is Nebraska anyway?”

At this they both broke into merry laughter. Gus reached across to me and patted my hand. “You are priceless, my sweet,” she said. “Who would make us laugh if we let you escape from our clutches?”

“And why this sudden desire for the frontier, anyway?” Sid looked up from spreading more apricot jam on a croissant.

“Because I've had enough of New York City. Life has become too complicated.”

“And you think it would be less complicated having to kill grizzly bears with your bible, on the way to school each morning, or having to fight off amorous pioneers in need of a wife?” Sid asked.

I put down the newspaper and sighed. “I don't know. I just want to make a new start somewhere far away. Never have to see Daniel Sullivan’s odious face again. Never have to convince myself that I don't want to marry Jacob Singer, however well behaved and earnest he is.”

“One can accomplish both these things without going to Nebraska, I should have thought,” Gus said. “If you've finally decided to give up this crazy notion of being a lady investigator, I'm sure we could help you make a new start in the city here. But if you insist on escaping, I'm sure I can come up with some connections in Boston foryou, even if my own people don't want to know me anymore.”

I looked at Gus’s sweet, elfish face, framed in its pile of soft light brown curls and finally smiled. “You're really too good to me by half. I don't deserve your friendship. I do nothing but interrupt your breakfast with my whining and complaining.”