MANHATTAN – DECEMBER 1900

"Jack, you're making a terrible mess. Stop it!" Sarah was almost in tears, laughing as Jack threw the dough onto the flour-covered table again, making even more flour spill to the floor. "You're meant to knead it. Not attack it."

"It's still too sticky. How is that even possible?" Jack asked in frustration, pulling his hands away and inspecting the wet dough that stuck to his fingers. "Son of a bitch."

"It ought to be smooth. Soft, like this," Sarah explained, taking a piece of the dough she was kneading and rolling it into a ball. "It holds."

"Well, why isn't mine doing that, dammit."

"Here, we'll swap," Sarah said, switching stations with him. "Once my dough rises, divide it into…oh, three pieces. Make sure they're even. And roll each piece into long ropes."

"Sarah, this is already too complicated—"

"And once you've finished rolling them, you can start to braid them."

"Braid?" Jack looked at her. "I'm no good at braiding. Sophie tried to teach me, but I never did get the hang of it."

Sarah sighed with another laugh, shaking her head. "I'll show you. It's not that complicated." She scooped up a bit of flour from the table and tossed it at him, sprinkling his nose with a light dusting. "Plus, you're a fast learner. What are you so worried about?"

Jack smiled, wiping it off with the back of his hand. "Oh, that's how it's going to be?" He gathered up a handful of flour from the bowl and threw it in her direction. The powder flew onto her forehead and hair, making Sarah gasp as she jumped back.

"Jack Kelly, you're a child!" She yelled, ducking around the table as he threw another handful. "Stop it! That's such a waste!" Despite this, she grabbed up some flour to toss back at him.

Soon, the flat was ablaze with shouts and laughter and screams, the scraping back of chairs, the scurrying of feet around the table. They almost didn't hear the knock at the door amidst the chaos.

Sarah paused, catching her breath, and trying to swallow her laughter as she heard another knock. Jack looked toward the door, exchanging a look with Sarah.

He opened it curiously, finding only Sophie on the other side. "Sophie? Hey. Is everything okay?"

"What's that on your face?" Sophie asked, scrunching her eyebrows.

"What? Oh…" Jack quickly wiped his face off with his sleeve, shaking the dust from his hair. "It's flour. Sarah's been teaching me how to make challah."

"I see." Sophie's eyes flashed past Jack to Sarah who stood at the table, cleaning up. She pursed her lips, raking back her hair with her fingers. "Jack…something's happened."

Jack felt his stomach drop at her tone. Immediately he assumed the worst. "What is it? Are you okay?"

"Yes. I'm fine. It's, um…" Sophie shrugged, lowering her voice. "It's Dad. He's…well, he's dead. They found his body down in the Bowery."

She spat the words out like they were nothing, like she was sharing any old piece of news.

Jack was quiet. But his silence talked for him. He'd never really loved his father, and he wasn't all sure his father had loved him. Or Sophie, for that matter. Mr. Sullivan had long made it known he never wanted kids.

"I'm sorry," Sophie whispered, not knowing what else to say. She didn't know why she went with an apology, but it's what slipped out.

Jack's attention flipped back to her. "It's done now. No use crying over him."

"I just thought you should know. I came over as soon as I heard." Her voice was solemn and hoarse.

"Thank you for telling me."

Silence settled around them. Sophie stumbled toward him, wrapping her arms around his torso in a hug. Jack hugged her back, biting his lip as he looked off in thought.

"Sophie, you're not upset, are you?" Jack asked, sounding a bit worried. "I mean, it's okay if you are."

"No," Sophie said, still clinging to him. "I'm just…afraid."

"Afraid? Of what?"

Sophie shook her head, covering up her pout with a strained smile. "Never mind. It's nothing. I don't even know what I'm saying. I guess I'm still kind of shocked."

"Sophie?" Sarah called from the kitchen, walking over as she dried her hands on her apron. "I thought that was you. Would you like to help us? I'm in dire need of a new sous-chef."

Sophie's smile brightened as she gave a little nod, letting go of Jack. "Just so happens, I know a thing or two about baking," she said, reaching up to flick the rest of the powder off Jack's nose. "And flour works best when it's on the bread, Jack. Not up your nose."