“My mother was born in this house. I was born here and so was my brother. The law may say that the house belongs to you as my father’s widow, but in your heart you know that it’s wrong to put me out because I insist on speaking truths you would rather ignore.”

“This is getting out of hand,” Anna said. “Margaret, this is your home if you’re away for a day or a year. No one is putting you out. No one is sending you away. Aunt Quinlan was making a suggestion. Badly timed—” She glanced at her aunt and frowned. “But nothing more than a suggestion for you to take or leave.”

Margaret’s throat worked, but she said nothing.

After a moment Aunt Quinlan said, “I spoke more sharply than I should have, Margaret. I apologize. You must decide what you want to do for yourself, but you can’t decide anything for Sophie. And as a family we will support her in her marriage and we will find a way to keep the girls with us without sacrificing Cap’s medical treatment.”

The silence drew out for a long moment, and then Margaret turned and left them.

•   •   •

THE TRAFFIC LANES that fed onto the bridge from either side were still blocked off, and more than that, the terminal doors were closed. A sour-faced patrolman stood at the top of the stairs scanning the street as if he expected an invasion, but Jack never hesitated; he tipped his chin up at the patrolman—it seemed that this was the way police officers of all kinds acknowledged each other—and then he opened the door for Anna and they walked past him and into the terminal to the sound of hammers and saws.

Even on a Saturday after seven in the evening there were carpenters and painters and electricians working in the waning light. None of them took note of two strangers walking through the terminal, but two roundsmen called out to Jack, gesturing him over. Anna supposed it was inevitable; he couldn’t simply walk past a colleague without at least a short conversation. But she was so eager to be on the bridge that she found herself bouncing on the balls of her feet like a schoolgirl.

The conversation had to do with boxing. She tried to fix her face in a politely uninterested way, and realized that she was failing when Jack took her hand and tucked it into his coat pocket, where he squeezed it twice. Be patient, was the message. She pinched him, hard.

One of the roundsmen was looking at her. A grandfatherly type with a great waterfall of gray mustache and a complexion so weather-roughened it looked more like tweed than skin. But he had a kind smile.

“You are looking forward to the bridge?”

He had a German accent which followed from the fact that Jack had called him Franz, but his shield bore the name Hannigan. It was not out of the ordinary in New York to have one Irish and one German parent or two parents from opposite sides of the world, for that matter.

Anna smiled back at him. “Very much.”

“Lua,” murmured his partner. “Wie die Grüable kriagt wenns lachat. Was globst, Franz, git’s da n Ehering undr a Handshua?” And he winked at Jack, who spoke no German. Or better said, Swiss, because that was what they were speaking, oddly enough. She looked at Jack and was relieved to see him looking back at her, waiting for a translation.

Before Anna could tell the man that there was not, in fact, a wedding ring under her glove, Officer Hannigan put the question to Jack in a more subtle way.

“And is this young lady a relative?”

Jack raised a brow and shot her a grin. “Not yet.”

After a startled silence that seemed to last an hour, Anna pulled away from him. “Na ja,” she said to the roundsmen in a voice nothing like her own. “Das werden wir mal sehen.” We’ll just see about that.

•   •   •

A SHORT FLIGHT of stairs led down to the pedestrian walkway that stretched out before them, still cluttered with machinery, piles of wooden planks, wheels of wiring, and a dozen other things Anna couldn’t put a name to. The first lampposts had been installed, but Anna could see that it would be a good while before the bridge could be lit at night.

Below them laborers were still busy on the train and omnibus tracks, but on the promenade they were alone in a cathedral of cables aligned with such precision that Anna was reminded of the inner workings of a piano. She looked up at the pointed arches of the nearer tower and thought again of climbing it. She could see the ladder bolted to the stonework from where they stood.

“So,” Jack said. “What did they say?”

“Who?”

He made a face at her.

Irritated, she sidestepped again. “Said about what?”

“They said something about you in German.”

“No, they didn’t. They were speaking Swiss.”

“So you didn’t understand.”

“They liked my dimples,” Anna said.

Jack made a sound in his throat. “I’m sure there was something more to it than that. And what did you say to make them laugh like that?”

Anna shrugged, both unable and unwilling to open up the conversation. Instead she ran ahead, pulling off her hat to feel the breeze on her face and neck. And she needed a moment to think.

Not yet.

Jack teased; it was his nature. He enjoyed seeing her flustered, but he was never cruel or thoughtless. Or had never been. Not yet.

She stopped suddenly and turned to watch him walking toward her in long strides. He had left his hat in the terminal and the wind ruffled his hair. For that moment he looked more like a boy of twenty than a man of thirty-five.

As he got closer she said, “I don’t want to talk about what you said to them. Not until I’ve told you some things you should know. You might well change your mind about me. And,” she added briskly, “I haven’t made up my mind about you.”

He stopped so close to her that their shoes touched, and smiled down at her. “Liar.”

But she would persist, and this accusation delivered with a grin could not make her forget what was at stake.

The river was teeming with paddleboats and ferries, colliers, canal boats, barges and steamers and sailboats, all against the backdrop of the town of Brooklyn. She had never thought of Brooklyn as a particularly pretty place, its shoreline crowded with factories and warehouses and wharves. But from here the highlands were a small sea of oak and maple and cedar trees interspersed with blossoming cherry and crab apple, all punctuated by steeples and chimneys.

She said, “I don’t know what I’m looking at,” and Jack came up behind her. He ducked down to follow her line of sight and with his hands on her shoulders, turned her a bit.

“Wallabout Bay and the Navy Yard.” As they turned steadily and he put names to ferry landings and landmarks. One arm dropped to circle her waist. “Fort Columbus. Governor’s Island.” He pointed and said, “You can just see Bedloe, where they’re going to put up that statue from France, once they’ve got the money together. Meant to welcome immigrants to the city.” This was the cynic in Jack talking, a tone that she didn’t often hear from him.

A large steam liner was just passing the fort, headed for England or Greece or on its way to round the horn. Anna hesitated and then said what was on her mind.

“Sophie and Cap will be getting married next month and then they’re going to Switzerland, to the clinic I told you about.”

He didn’t seem surprised. “Is that what she really wants?”

Anna thought for a long moment. “What she really wants is a cure, but this is as much as she can ask for.” She shook her head, determined to put Margaret out of her mind for the moment at least. Instead she put her cheek against Jack’s shoulder and, leaning into him, turned to follow the Manhattan shoreline.

It was disquieting to realize that beyond Castle Garden and the spire of Trinity Church there was almost nothing she recognized, as if she were looking at a city she had never visited before. Behind docks and wharves and warehouses there were buildings of all sizes crowded together like grubby blocks a child had poured out of a bag for no other reason than to see how they fell. All along the river shore to the right the seventh district tenements leaned together like so many rotting teeth, but even there poles were going up as electricity wove its way through the city streets, wires crisscrossing over every intersection. Smokestacks belched far above the buildings they topped. In the distance the gas works looked like a cluster of tin cans. There were patches of green here and there, but for the most part it was a city of redbrick and cast iron and warped wood held together by grime and persistence.

She said, “You can just see the Hudson from here.”

“From the top of the tower—” He paused.

“Yes?” She elbowed him less than gently.

He used a hand to immobilize her arm. “Looking up there now, you still want to climb to the top?”

She tipped her head back to consider. “I’ve climbed a couple of mountains,” she said. “I don’t suppose there are any bad-mannered goats on the way up that ladder, are there?”

His face was so close she could count his eyelashes. When he spoke his breath was warm on her face. “Do you dislike it that I am protective of you? Because that’s bred in the bone.”