The Girls at the Kingfisher Club by Genevieve Valentine Page B

Lou, “what with all seven of us, but it was still dark, and we managed.”
    Violet spoke up. “Did you really get caught by the cops, General? We thought you were right behind us, but when I turned—”
    â€œIt was fine,” said Jo. “Over and done.”
    Lou frowned. “How did you get sprung?”
    â€œIt took some doing,” said Jo. “Now come on. Everyone back in bed. I have to get into a nightgown before breakfast comes.”
    They went, whispering about all the awful things that hadn’t happened to them but could have.
    Lou closed the door and turned to Jo.
    â€œHow did you get out? Are they looking for you?”
    â€œNo, the fine’s all paid.” Jo peeled off her stockings and hid them under the mattress.
    â€œWho paid it?” asked Lou, with narrowed eyes.
    â€œJake took care of it,” said Jo. “Now help me out of this. They’ll come up with breakfast any second.”
    Lou eased the silk up off Jo’s shoulders. “Jake got picked up, too,” she said. “We saw it as we came around. He couldn’t have paid your fine from inside.”
    Jo sighed. “Let it alone, Lou. It’s done.”
    â€œJo, are you in trouble?” Lou was frowning into their reflection in the mirror, Jo’s dress a pile of fabric in her hands. “When I got home and didn’t see you, I could have just—well.” She hooked the slip on the mirror’s edge. “How come you couldn’t run out with the rest of us?”
    â€œThere wasn’t time for everyone to get out,” said Jo. “Someone had to make sure the rest were safe.”
    She pulled a nightgown from her wardrobe. Lou sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor.
    â€œThere were seven of us,” she said, her voice tight. “We took two cars, and it couldn’t have been more than half an hour to wave them down, but the whole way home my heart was in my throat like it was trying to jump into the other car. I don’t—I don’t know how you do it.”
    Jo sat beside her, Lou’s warmth seeping into her skin. “You get used to it.”
    Lou sighed. “You’re out of your mind, Jo. If I’d been left alone, I’d be halfway to Boston by now.”
    Jo didn’t answer.
    Lou leaned closer in. “But I’m glad you’re home.”
    Jo smiled.
    Of all of her sisters, it had always been Lou she loved most.
    Jo had a fondness for practical Doris, for proud Araminta, for brainy Rebecca. But it was with Lou that Jo had made her first waltz figures on some dark, quiet night in their room, nearly twenty years ago.
    It was for Lou she had first taken them out dancing, so Lou would stop her talk of leaving.
    Of all of them, Lou was the one Jo couldn’t lose; Lou was the only one of them who knew her.
    â€œHelp me clean up,” she said at last. “Breakfast will be here any second.”
    â€¢Â â€¢Â â€¢
    The note came on Jo’s breakfast tray.
    Please bring two downstairs for interviews this afternoon. Love, Father.

ten
    You Wouldn't Fool Me,
    Would You?
    After breakfast, Jo got herself in decent shape with rouge and powder, put on day clothes, and knocked at Doris and Ella’s door.
    As she read them the note, Ella frowned, as if finally realizing their father’s plan wasn’t a bad dream and that he intended to go about it with exactly this amount of empathy.
    Then Jo folded the note and regarded them levelly.
    â€œIf you don’t want to go with me, I’ll ask a couple of the younger girls,” she said, “but you two are the oldest besides Lou, and I’m not sending Lou.”
    They didn’t ask why not; they knew.
    Jo looked from one to the other. “Doris, you know how to keep your head in the middle of something this stupid. Ella, he likes you most, and you know how to handle him. What we do today will affect the younger ones. I hope you’ll