Chapter 8

Duck, Pique, and Lillie watched Mr. Kotin expectantly as the mustachioed man took a deep breath and said, "I wished I had the opportunity to tell you ladies sooner, but… I am now engaged to Miss Anna!"

At this, the girl threw their hands in the air, whooping and cheering. "I knew it!" Lillie squealed. "Oh, I knew you were planning a proposal! That's why you'd been gone so much lately!"

"Congratulations, Mr. Kotin!" Duck beamed while Pique interjected excitedly, "So, how did you propose to her?"

"I had invited her to dinner at the St. Regis, where we had first declared our feelings for one another," Mr. Kotin answered, unbothered by Pique's prying inquisitiveness. As he continued, a sheepish smile appeared underneath his neat mustache. "To my surprise, not only did she accept, but she confided that she had come to the St. Regis with a proposition of her own."

Confused, Duck looked at her friends, their enthusiasm dying down and now having expressions as perplexed as hers, before turning back to Mr. Kotin. "What kind of proposition?"

"A business proposition," Mr. Kotin clarified. "As you may know, my dear Anna had started a dance troupe not too long ago. The troupe is small, but growing, and I wish for nothing more than to see her succeed, not only because she is the light of my heart and a fellow russkaya*, but also that I could see and appreciate the passion and effort she's put into her company. I was more than happy to offer my assistance to her, and introduced her to people I know in the ballet and theater world who could help her business grow.

"But my dearest Anna—bless her sweet, just, and kind soul!—felt it was unfair that I receive no reward or compensation for my efforts. She proposed to give me partial ownership of the company, something which she was planning on putting forth to me the same night as my proposal to her."

"Did you accept her offer?" Pique asked in a small voice, a sense of unease growing in her stomach as she and her friends wondered where this conversation was going and why Mr. Kotin was telling them all this. "Wouldn't it be a lot of work to run two businesses at the same time?"

Mr. Kotin nodded gravely. "That very thought had passed through my mind as well. I did not answer Anna immediately, but after taking a day to consider it… I realized the idea of running a dance company—to offer not just my skills in shoemaking, but my years of experience and connections to help make the troupe a success—was one that was very exciting for me. As you all know, I have been running this shop for many years, and Anna has brought a breath of fresh air into the prosaic routine that I did not realize I had fallen into. The invigoration that comes with running a burgeoning business was an experience I had forgotten, and so I accepted her offer."

Here Mr. Kotin paused, and the girls stood waiting for their employer's next words. "Operating two different businesses, as Miss Pique pointed out, is a difficult task," Mr. Kotin continued. "The number of clients we see has decreased noticeably over the last year, as I am sure you are all well aware. Financially, the pointe shoe shop is solvent, but supporting a second enterprise with the shop's current income is out of the question. I have gone over the numbers, and after considering all of the options available, I've come to the decision that two things must happen."

Holding up an index finger, Mr. Kotin explained, "The first is to move the shop. Two new pointe shoe shops have opened in Manhattan in the last year and they are our main competitors. Although they are new and have yet to build a strong reputation, their close proximity to many of our clients has gradually drawn business away from us. But to operate in Manhattan, we would have to dramatically scale down the shop's floor space in order for the business to be sustainable after the increase in rent. As for the other necessity…"

Here, Mr. Kotin's voice faltered, and he folded his fingers and lowered his hands. With everyone's eyes on him, the usually theatrical man said quietly, "…In order to keep the business solvent, I would only be able to retain one employee at the new location."

Duck's stomach dropped to the floor. Her eyes darted to Lillie and Pique, and saw their grave expressions matched her as they all tried to process this sudden and unwelcomed news.

In the end, it was once again Pique who broached the uncomfortable silence. "So… who are you going to let go?"

Mr. Kotin shook his head hard and it was clear this was as difficult a subject for him as it was for the girls. "I have known all of you for many years… it is a decision I cannot bring myself to make, Miss Pique!"

Heaving a heavy sigh, his eyes passed from Pique to Duck, then to Lillie. "I often feel the three of you are like sisters to one another. And like a family, I think this is a decision you best make for and amongst yourselves. The current lease for the shop will not expire until the end of the year, and Miss Anna and I are still considering offers for a number of locations, so there is still time. I…!" Shaking his head despondently, Mr. Kotin turned away sharply and retreated into his office.

After his door closed behind him, the speechless shop girls looked helplessly at one another.

A few moments passed, and then Pique sighed. "Well, that was a shocker… but I can't say I'm entirely surprised it's come to this, either."

Lillie shook her head, causing the curls in her hair to sway with her movement. "Me either! What are we going to do? Mr. Kotin said it's up to us, but to punt such an important decision to us isn't really fair, is it?"

"No. But you know…" Pique smiled wryly as she looked into the distance, "maybe this is a sign for me to give this secretary training thing a try."

Duck's head snapped up. "Are you serious, Pique?" the red-head whispered.

But Pique, her expression calm and thoughtful, nodded. "I'm going to miss having my own spending money, but if I can get through Mrs. Ryan's training quickly, it shouldn't be too hard to find another job afterward."

Turning back to Lillie and Duck, Pique joked, "It was a good thing I have been practicing Gregg's shorthand; hopefully that'll help when I start lessons!"

Not nearly as upbeat as her violet-haired companion, Lillie pursed her lips and mulled over her options. "You know how my folks are… they would love nothing more than for me to stay home, especially my mother. But if I did that, I just know she would begin to talk of marriage and start parading young men through the parlor like a 'marry'-go-around!" Raising her hand to her forehead dramatically, Lillie wailed, "If that happens, then I would rather take my vow to God and join a convent!"

Pique let out a snort of laughter, puncturing the somber mood that had engulfed the room. "You really should give the short story writing a try, Lillie! Maybe that could be the subject of your first serial: 'The Posh Postulant'!"

Watching her friends' casual banter, Duck found it hard to believe that moments ago, their world had been turned upside down. But even as she watched her friends mutely, a vortex of anxiety swirled within Duck's mind. One of her worst fears seemed to be coming true, and a part of Duck could not comprehend how her friends could recover so quickly from the shocking news.

It's because they have other things they can do. Pique can go to school, Lillie can write… but there isn't anything else that I can do! Duck bit her lip.

With her hands tightly gripping the front of her dress, she almost didn't hear Pique, who turned away and said, "I guess that settles it, then. I'll talk to my folks and if they agree, I'll have a chat with Mr. Kotin tomorrow."

As Pique strolled away, Duck wanted to reach out and stop her, but her muscles froze before she could lift her hand.

What am I doing? I can't make Pique's decisions for her, Duck admonished herself as overwhelming guilt and helplessness washed over her. Swallowing her shame, she forced herself to focus on tidying up the shop even as the sticky tendrils of anxiety tightened their grip around her consciousness.

The rest of the day seemed to pass Duck by in a dull haze. By the time the shop closed, Duck stood at the door, unsure where to go. Desperate to talk to someone about her troubles, she began to turn her heels towards the Stein Jewelry Store, but stopped herself when she recalled Edel would be departing to visit her relative soon.

Miss Edel is leaving in two days and she has to care for Zurab. She already has so many things on her plate; I shouldn't burden her with my own problems…

Taking a deep breath, Duck instead made a beeline for Mrs. Ebine's bakery.

Maybe if Fakir hasn't had dinner yet, I can make a-sorta again, and we can dance a little afterward, Duck thought, wishing for the welcoming distraction of dance and Fakir's presence to lull away her worries.

Though she knew neither Edel or Fakir could in any practical sense help her, the desire to find someone to lend a willing ear propelled Duck forward until she stood in front of Ebine's shop. Duck rocked nervously on her heels, waiting for the familiar dark-haired detective to materialize.

But as the sun gradually sank behind the rows of buildings in the distant horizon, there was no sign of Fakir. With the light fading, Duck fished out her pocket watch and saw that it was already 6:36, well past the time when Fakir would normally show up if he wasn't preoccupied by work.

Resigned, Duck put away the watch and pulled her coat tightly around her frame against the advancing evening chill. Accompanied only by her own shadow, she made her way home.

The silence of Duck's apartment lingered long into the evening, and it wasn't until Duck was preparing for bed that the sharp creak of floorboards outside her door signaled Fakir's return. By then, Duck, dressed in her nightgown, was brushing her unbraided hair on her bed. The sound sent her hurrying to the door, but when the floorboards ceased to groan, Duck's feet stilled before she could reach for the doorknob.

Duck frowned, running her hands absently through her loose coppery locks. I shouldn't bother Fakir now. He must be tired after a long day…

On the other side of the door, Fakir was fishing about his coat pocket for his apartment key, his brow furrowed. It had been another long day filled with meetings and what seemed like an endless stream of paperwork. But even more frustrating than the cumbersome bureaucracy was the lack of progress in locating Worm Tongue.

If he's still in New York, Worm Tongue must know we're looking for him by now, Fakir groused to himself. We've checked all of his known hangouts, talked to dozens of people, but no one knows where he is. If he really was involved in Marco Corioli's murder, it's most likely he would've skipped town already…

The idea that Worm Tongue had left the city stirred up conflicting feelings in the detective's heart. He had promised Eddie Corioli that he would find the person who killed the boy's father. However, if Worm Tongue had decided to leave for good, then Duck and himself would be safe…

Closing his fingers around his house key, Fakir directed his eyes from his coat pocket to Duck's door.

I wonder if she wants to dance tonight… Fakir thought absently, his mind conjuring a memory of the red-head's smile, but the detective quickly dismissed that idea as he entered the apartment. It's already so late; she has work tomorrow and is probably in bed already.

Stepping into his bedroom, Fakir traced a finger along the top of the Victrola as he recalled the soft touch of Duck's hand against his palm while they swayed gently in time to the music.

His fingertips flowed from the Victrola's polished wooden panels to his desk to the book Duck had given him for his birthday. Picking up the tome and cradling it to his chest, just as he had held Duck to him the day he received this gift, Fakir opened the novel to the page he had bookmarked with a slip of scrap paper.

There is always tomorrow… and in the meantime, memories will do.

Next door, Duck pulled the bedcover over herself and settled into bed. Reaching behind her neck to undo the necklace clasp, her hands paused when the light from her lamp caught the red carnelian, making its surface glow in the amber light.

Her hands moved away from the clasp, and she cupped the pendant in her palms. The weight of the pendant reminded Duck of the reassuring pressure from Fakir's hand on her back as they danced, and for the first time that day, a wan smile found its way to her lips.

Running her thumb over the smooth stone, she exhaled softly. With one hand cradling the pendant to her chest, she reached across her nightstand and turned off the light.

The following morning, after a lengthy discussion behind closed doors, Pique and Mr. Kotin reemerged from his office. With genuine and profound sadness, Mr. Kotin announced what the girls already knew: Pique intended to depart and begin lessons at Mrs. Ryan's in-home secretarial school in a week's time.

Though Pique's time at the pointe shoe shop was coming to an end, the young woman was upbeat, even excited, as she talked about the new books she had bought and grumbled about the bulky used typewriter her father bought her to practice typing on. Duck nodded and listened attentively, but she found it difficult to smile despite wanting to be happy for her friend.

By the time Duck found herself standing in front of the Stein Jewelry Shop to pick up Zurab that evening, she had to consciously push a smile to her lips, lest she worry Edel. Even so, the ever perceptive Edel immediately noticed something was amiss as soon as she opened the door. "Is everything alright, Duck?"

Duck's lips quivered for a second, and the pent-up worries she had been harboring over the past two days trickled out. "Mr. Kotin… has he told you about the shop?"

Edel's serene expression did not waver, and to Duck's disappointment, the tall woman gave a small nod. "He has spoken to me about slow business at the pointe shoe shop before, and when I spoke with him last, I was under the impression he might consider moving. Has he come to a final decision on that, then?"

Duck nodded, and that simple, enabling motion seemed to open the dam as all of Duck's suppressed thoughts began to spill out. "He's thinking about moving to Manhattan, but the new shop would only be able to support one of us. Mr. Kotin has asked us to decide amongst ourselves who would like to stay and who wants to go. Pique has decided to leave and go to secretarial school. So, now…"

"Have you and Lillie talked about whom will stay?" Edel asked quietly, finishing Duck's thought when the girl's voice trailed off.

"No… and I… I don't want Lillie to go, but I don't know what else I can do!" Duck confided. Not knowing what else to say, the now familiar feeling of guilt rushed up and she quickly apologized, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't be bothering you when you're going to set out on a trip tomorrow! I just—"

"It's all right, Duck," Edel placed a reassuring hand on Duck's shoulders and the pale woman wiped away the small beads of tear at the corner of Duck's baby-blue eyes. "I am sorry to hear that things have come to this." The tall shopkeeper's thin lips drew into a sympathetic frown. "You have worked with Mr. Kotin for quite a number of years now, and I can imagine the news is hard to take. I cannot tell you what the future holds, but know that if there is anything you need, I will do my best to help you."

"Thank you, Miss Edel," Duck leaned in and gave the woman a hug. As she pulled away and Edel loosened her arms around Duck, the red-head sniffled and managed a smile. Feeling a little lighter, Duck said more brightly, "And don't you worry about Zurab—I'll be sure to take good care of him while you're gone!"

Now it was Edel's turn to smile. Leading Duck inside the shop, she said, "I have Zurab's things packed for you. Wait here a moment while I go fetch him."

Moments later, Edel led Zurab into the room and handed Duck a small suitcase. "Thank you again for agreeing to watch over Zurab for the next two weeks. It puts my mind at ease knowing he is with you."

"You're welcome, Miss Edel," Duck smiled again. Kneeling down, Duck said to Zurab, "Hello again, Zurab!"

Instead of the garrulous greeting she had been expecting, the child merely glanced at her before turning his eyes to the ground. This muted response surprised Duck, and Edel explained, "Zurab has been a bit subdued these last few days. I think he is upset that I am leaving and not taking him with me."

"I see," Duck nodded back. Smoothing the child's soft, downy hair, she tried to reassure him. "Don't worry, Zurab. I'll be sure to take good care of you."

She extended her hand to the child. After another tentative glance, first to Edel, then back to Duck, Zurab mumbled a soft, "Okay, zura…" and took Duck's proffered hand.

After a few more instructions from Edel on Zurab's habits and schedule, the red-head waved the jewelry shop owner goodbye. Holding Zurab's hand, Duck and Zurab made their way to Mrs. Ebine's bakery and Duck's eyes brightened when she saw Fakir was already there waiting for them.

Seeing Duck with her hands full, Fakir stepped forward. "Here, let me," he said, and took the suitcase from Duck.

"Thank you, Fakir," Duck said gratefully.

Fakir was surprised by the hefty weight of the small luggage. "This must weigh at least ten pounds!" Fakir said, lifting the small suitcase in his hand. "How long is he staying with you again?"

"Two weeks," Duck looked down at Zurab, who was now looking around at the street and people around him as they began to make their way towards home. "Miss Edel packed Zurab's clothes, some of his favorite snacks, his toys, and a few books in there."

Fakir scowled. Having grown up without any younger family members, it seemed to Fakir taking care of a three-year-old—soon to be four—was far from an easy task. Duck, too, was an only child, and again the detective worried how the shop girl was going to manage caring for a young child all on her own.

Not wanting Zurab to overhear, Fakir quietly asked Duck, "Are you sure you'll be alright?"

"Huh?" Duck blinked at Fakir before she realized the matter to which he was referring. "Oh, I'll be fine! Zurab was very well-behaved when we were at the zoo, remember?"

Fakir scoffed and rolled his eyes. "No, I haven't forgotten. I also haven't forgotten about the wild goose chase we went on that day, either."

"That wasn't Zurab's fault!" Duck argued. "He went where he said he was going to go. We were the ones who had it all backwards!"

"You have a point there…" Fakir admitted grudgingly, recalling their collective embarrassment after having assumed Zurab was a girl up until then.

As their apartment building came into view across the street, the detective asked, "But you're certain your boss is going to be okay with having a child in the shop? What if Zurab runs off again?"

At the mention of the pointe shoe shop, Duck's lips drew thin. She opened her mouth to speak, but before the first words could leave her tongue, she changed her mind.

Fakir has so many more pressing things to think about, Duck reminded herself, and instead answered, "Miss Edel said she's already talked to Mr. Kotin about it. Also, Lillie and… Pique… will help watch Zurab while he's at the shop…" Duck's voice faded.

The three climbed the stairs to their floor in silence. Fakir set Zurab's suitcase in front of Duck's door while the shop girl took out her keys. Watching Duck, Fakir felt a familiar flush creep up from under his collar as he awkwardly cleared his throat. "Say, um, do you want to listen to the Victrola tonight? You can bring Zurab over, too," he added quickly.

The burning under his collar was put out when Duck gave a brief shake of her head. "No, I can't. Zurab need to go to bed at 8, so I'll have to go to bed early for the next two weeks."

"Oh…" Fakir said quietly, hiding his disappointment with a nonchalant shrug. "Well, let me know if you need anything."

"I will, thank you," Duck smiled at him, and Fakir couldn't help but smile back in turn. To the toddler, Duck made a little wave, "Alright, say 'good night' to Fakir, Zurab!"

"Goo night…" an already sleepy Zurab mumbled, copying Duck and waved his tiny hand at Fakir.

Fakir tipped his hat toward them and watched as Duck and Zurab entered her apartment. He only looked away after the door closed behind them.

Two weeks, huh…

The smile on Fakir's lips wilted. The yearning to feel the touch of Duck's hand against his skin seemed to grow by the day, and the brief contact they shared today when he took the suitcase from her only made the desire more acute. Knowing they would not have another opportunity to dance until a fortnight from now, Fakir couldn't help but imagine if this was what being sentenced to prison felt like when all one could do was wait and count the days as they passed.

Oh, for God's sake! Fakir rubbed his face with his palms, exasperated by his forlorn and lovesick musing. Thanks to work, you barely saw her all summer; compared to that, two weeks is nothing! And it's not as though she's going to vanish in that time! He continued to chastise himself as he let himself into the apartment.

Draping his hat and jacket over a chair, Fakir tousled his hair and stepped into his bedroom when his eyes once again alighted on the copy of The Secret of Chimneys. This time, instead of flipping to the page earmarked by the bookmark, Fakir gingerly thumbed through the first few leaflets of printed paper to the cover page.

Happy birthday, Fakir.

Love, Duck.

Running his finger over the last two words, a faint smile returned to Fakir's face.

Two weeks will pass soon enough… he told himself before settling into a chair with the book.

Pique's last day at the pointe shoe was, much to Duck's relief, a day like any other. There was no dramatic hugging and crying, or long drawn-out reminiscing about the past. Pique, followed by Lillie, greeted her with a smile in the morning, and soon after the three girls settled down to their usual perusal of the latest magazines behind the shop counter, just as they had done countless times before.

As lunch hour approached and the girls found themselves preoccupied with a stove-top cake recipe in the Saturday Evening Post, Mr. Kotin walked out from his office.

Looking up from the tempting image of chocolate cake, three sets of eyes arched in surprise when Mr. Kotin held out an enclosed envelope to Pique.

"For all your years of hard work, Miss Pique," Mr. Kotin explained as Pique opened the envelope and saw it contained an entire month's worth of pay.

"Mr. Kotin, I—" Pique stammered uncharacteristically. Looking from the envelope back to the shop's proprietor, she said, "—there's two weeks of extra pay here. Are you sure…?"

"I am sure," Mr. Kotin replied softly. With a smile, he said to the rest of the girls, "Today being Miss Pique's last day, I thought perhaps you ladies would like to spend some time together. I would like to take you all out for lunch, but my banker called this morning and I must go meet him now. To compensate, here is a little extra so all of you can treat yourselves to something nice."

Mr. Kotin produced three dollar-bills and handed one to each of the girls. To Pique, who at this point was barely holding back tears, he said, "If you have a chance, do come by the new shop when it opens. Places and people might change, but you will always be welcome at Kotin Pointe Shoe Shop, Miss Pura Pique-Martinez!"*

"Thank you, Mr. Kotin…" Pique sniffed, "I'll definitely come visit once the new shop is open!" The short-haired young woman reached over the counter and, paying no mind to decorum, gave Mr. Kotin a hug, which the mustachioed man returned with a fatherly embrace.

Afterwards, once Mr. Kotin had left for his appointment and everyone had a moment to collect themselves, Pique rubbed her nose, sniffled, and grinned at her friends. "Well, you heard him! Where shall we go?"

"With three dollars, we can go anywhere we want!" Lillie squealed excitedly. "We can have Oysters Rockefeller, or Chicken a la King!"*

Not wanting Pique's opinion on the matter to be overlooked, Duck said, "I'm happy to go anywhere you want to go, Pique," to which Lillie quickly nodded in agreement.

"Hmm," Pique touched her lips thoughtfully. "How about G Migliucci?* I've heard people say their food is good, and decently priced as well. As much as I would love to try something ritzy, it might be a while before I have a job again and I'd like to have a little extra dough in my pocket in the meantime," she said with a sheepish wink.

"Sounds good to me!" Lillie rejoined happily. "Mother doesn't like Italian food—too much garlic, she says. So the only chance I get to have it is when I eat with you gals."

Duck was about to agree when her eyes fell on Zurab from across the room. The toddler was quietly flipping through a picture book and Duck whispered, "Um, can we bring Zurab along? Mr. Kotin will be gone for a bit too, and I can't leave him here by himself…"

"Of course! That should be fine," answered Pique. "G Migliucci is a family joint, so I'm sure they're okay with kids."

Once lunch plans were agreed upon, the girls set out for Arthur Avenue and arrived at the restaurant, and were seated with their food ready in no time.

After polishing off their meals, Pique dabbed away a smudge of tomato sauce from her lips with a napkin and leaned back in her chair.

"So," Pique began, looking around the table at Duck and Lillie, who had also just finished their meals, "have the two of you talked about who's staying?"

Lillie and Duck looked at one another and solemnly shook their heads in unison. "I was thinking," Lillie began, "maybe I'll look into Macy's or Bloomingdales. But all the girls who work there seem like such high hats; no sense of humor at all."

Pique, her arms folded across her chest, tipped her chin in agreement. "Big department stores are like that. They want you to look and act a certain way, and you're such a live wire, Lillie. To be level with you, I don't think you suit those places."

Lillie let out a loud sigh. With her elbows on the table, she rested her face between her hands and pouted. "Maybe I really should give this writing thing a try… but writing is so hard! It's one thing to come up with grand ideas, but it's another to fill in the dialogues and have it all make sense!"

Pique smiled sympathetically at Lillie's dilemma before turning to Duck, "What about you, Duck?"

The red-head who started at the sound of her name. "Um…" Duck glanced from side to side, averting eye contact with anyone. "…I haven't really thought about what to do…"

"Do you want to stay at the shop?" Pique asked bluntly as Lillie looked on.

"I…" Duck gulped, her palms sweating at the barrage of questions. I do, because I don't know anything else! Duck's voice whispered in her mind.

Glancing at Lillie, Duck didn't want to openly admit it, but she knew if given a choice, Lillie would rather stay as well. But there's only one spot… so one of us has to go…

Sensing Duck's distress, Pique changed the subject. Looking at the mint-haired toddler sitting across from her, she quipped, "Zurab has been awfully quietly all week, hasn't he? Is he feeling alright?"

"Huh? Oh…" Silently grateful for the change in topic, Duck also turned to look at Zurab, whose mouth was covered in tomato sauce from the pizza he was eating. "I think Zurab misses Miss Edel, as well as his mother, who's recovering at a sanitorium."

"Are you having fun right now, Zurab?" Lillie asked sweetly, trying to encourage the little boy to speak, but only received a fleeting glance and no response.

With everyone at the table now focused on Zurab, Duck grew concerned with the others. Despite having lived with Zurab for only three days thus far, Duck also had noticed Zurab's uncharacteristic reticence. Hoping to draw a response from Zurab, Duck said, "Say, Zurab, do you want to go to the zoo again? We can go again this weekend, if you'd like."

But to everyone's surprise, Zurab shook his head.

At a loss, Duck asked, "Do you want to go somewhere to play? Have you been to Coney Island?"

"Great idea! You can ride the Thunderbolt before the park closes for the season!* I had such a thrill when I went this summer!" Pique chimed in, then abruptly stopped herself, "…On second thought, they don't let little kids on those rides. It's probably not safe for someone his age."

"He can ride the Wonder Wheel!" Lillie suggested, hands clasped together eagerly. "You can see a gorgeous view of the ocean from the top! Perfect for a date and a little petting!"

"Lillie, petting is for adults. That's hardly appropriate for a little kid!" Pique whispered flatly.

"Oh, but just imagine it! The dramatic colors of sunset in the distant horizon! Electric lights reflecting off the ocean waves at night…!"

As Lillie went off on another dramatic tangent, Duck took the moment to pat Zurab on the head and said softly, "Is there any place you would like to go to, Zurab?"

Zurab stuck a tomato-sauce-coated finger in his mouth, his round blue eyes looking down at his plate. After a moment, he turned to her and said, "Can Zurab go to a park, zura?"

This wasn't the answer Duck had expected, but seeing that Zurab was talking again, Duck encouraged him, "Of course! Do you want to go to a park with a playground?"

"No," Zurab answered, again to Duck's bewilderment. Raising his hands and spreading them wide, the familiar excitement in Zurab's voice returned a little as he gestured, "a big park! Can Duck take Zurab to a big park?"

"A big park?" Duck thought about this for a moment. "Well, the biggest park in New York is Central Park… but that might be a little too big?"

By now Lillie and Pique had turned their attention back to them and Pique offered, "What about Bronx Park? It's a lot closer, and even though it's not as big as Central Park, for a child it's still quite a large park to explore."

Duck nodded. Back to Zurab, she said, "Alright! Would you like to go tomorrow, Zurab?"

"Ja, zura!" the child yelped happily.

And so, the following day, with Zurab beside her, Duck stepped off the tram in front of Bronx Park. Setting off into the still-green acres of the park, they passed other families, and paused to watch the squirrels scurry between the tree branches.

In contrast to their visit to the Bronx Zoo, which was located less than a mile from where they were now, Zurab took in the idyllic sights with a quiet but attentive gaze. There was no excited chatter from him, and the toddler seemed content to walk in pace with Duck, making no attempt to run ahead as he had done at the zoo. This behavior left Duck puzzled, all the more so given that Zurab has specifically requested to come to the park.

Following the path along the bubbling Bronx River, they approached a gentle bend where a wooden bench was nestled under a towering Mediterranean cypress tree. Thinking this quiet spot might be a good place to take a break, Duck pointed to the bench, "Do you want to rest and have some snacks, Zurab?"

Zurab nodded and after taking a seat, Duck took out a paper bag containing snacks she had prepared earlier in the day and handed it to Zurab. Watching him crunch on a potato chip, Duck asked, "Say, Zurab, why did you want to come to the park?"

Zurab twisted his lips as though trying to find the words to answer. Finally, the toddler said, "Zurab likes parks, zura. Deda and Mama used to take Zurab to the park, zura!"

Ah, that makes sense! Duck thought. More quietly, Duck ventured, "Do you miss your mama, Zurab?"

"Ja, zura," the child answered affirmatively, then added forlornly, "but Zurab miss Deda, too. Dieda went to see Deda, but Zurab can't see Deda."

Duck began to nod in understanding, but stopped and looked at Zurab. "Wait… but I thought Miss Edel went to see your mama, not your papa?"

Zurab blinked, perplexed by Duck's confusion. "Dieda went to see Deda, not Mama, zura," the child repeated, and finally something clicked in Duck's brain.

"Oh! I see, Deda is mama, and Mama is papa, er, right?" Duck said to herself, realizing that she had gotten English and Georgian mixed up. Laughing in embarrassment, Duck returned to her earlier question and asked haltingly, "Er, so… did you used to go to the park a lot with your parents, then?"

Zurab once again took a moment before answering, "A long, long time ago, zura. After Deda and Zurab came on the big ship, Deda sometimes took Zurab to a park, but not after Deda went away, zura."

"Do you miss your Deda, Zurab?" Duck asked gently, and as she expected, Zurab nodded his round little chin.

"Deda would play with Zurab," the toddler answered softly, so soft that the birds and the sound of the breeze in the background nearly drowned out the child's voice, and it made Duck's heart tighten.

Poor child… Maybe playing a game will cheer him up, especially if it's a game he's familiar with and enjoys. "What kind of games? Like hide-and-seek? Or tag? We can play together if you'd like!"

Again, Zurab shook his head. "Deda and Zurab play "Как Вас зовут"! Does Duck know "Как Вас зовут"?"*

At this question, Duck was left stumped. She was unable to repeat the name of the game, much less have any idea what it entailed. "Um, I've never played that game before… how do you play it?"

Zurab grinned, evidently energized by Duck's interest. Eagerly, he answered, "Duck and Zurab walk around, zura. When someone talks to Zurab and asks Zurab what his name is, Zurab get a point when he answers, 'Elene'! If someone asks Zurab where he's from, Zurab gets two points when he answers, 'on a farm'! After twenty points, Deda gives Zurab a prize, zura!"

"Oh…" This answer only left Duck even more confused. Miss Edel did say Zurab enjoys wearing dresses, so maybe "Elene" is an in-joke of some sort between Zurab and his mother, she pondered.

Handing Zurab a handkerchief to wipe his hands with, Duck tried to keep the conversation going by asking, "I didn't know you were born on a farm, Zurab. What kind of farm was it?"

But Zurab shook his head again. "Zurab came from a city—not big-big like here, and not so, so many people, but there were lots of tall buildings, zura!"

"So you weren't born on a farm?" Duck curled her eyebrows. None of the things Zurab said made any sense, and at this point Duck felt as lost as a babe in the woods. "Why are those the rules?" she couldn't help but ask.

"That's what Deda told Zurab," Zurab responded, and with a grin, repeated, "But if Zurab gets twenty points, Deda gives Zurab chocolate as a prize!"

Finally hearing something about this game that she could understand, Duck perked up. "So you like chocolate, then?"

Zurab nodded emphatically, causing the stray curl of hair on top of his head to bob in time with his chin. "Ja! For Zurab's birthday, Dede would give Zurab chocolate cake! Zurab loves chocolate cake, zura!"

"We actually just had chocolate cake a few days ago, for Fakir's birthday!" Duck smiled.

Staring hopefully at Duck, Zurab said, "Is there cake for Zurab?"

"Eh…" Duck scratched her cheeks, regretting what she said earlier as she admitted, "Sorry, but there isn't any left. But you know what?" she followed quickly as the toddler's eyes drooped in visible disappointment. "We can make a chocolate cake together! I saw a stove-top chocolate cake recipe the other day. It's pretty simple. We can try and make it at home tomorrow!"

"Chocolate cake! Chocolate cake!" Zurab began to chant excitedly.

Seeing Zurab happy and excited again, Duck couldn't help but smile as well, and for a moment, she could forget about her own troubles. Joining hands with Zurab once again, and with a little added pep in their steps, continued their trek through Bronx Park.

When Fakir walked up the stairs Sunday afternoon with half a week's worth of mail tucked under his arm, he nearly jumped when two loud metallic "thuds" came from Duck's apartment. What on earth is she getting up to? The detective wondered warily.

He knocked lightly on Duck's apartment door. "Duck? Are you alright in there?" the detective called through the door panel, but he'd barely finished his sentence when the door opened and Zurab, with clothes and hands covered in flour, grasped Fakir by his coat and pulled him into the apartment.

"Duck is making chocolate cake, zura!" the child yelled, and Fakir's eyes grew wide at the sight of Duck's upended kitchen. Bowls, spoons, tins of sugar and cocoa, and an opened bag of flour sat jumbled on the dining table while canned foods, cereal, and other items from Duck's pantry lay in disarray on the kitchen floor.

Duck, wearing a striped buttercup apron, was standing with her head buried in the top shelf of her cupboard, her feet balanced precariously on a small wooden stool.

"What was that noise I just heard?" Fakir asked, his eyebrows cocked as he surveyed the mess around him.

Retracting her head from behind the panels of the cupboard, the red-head laughed sheepishly when she saw Fakir staring aghast at her from the kitchen doorway.

"Oh! Hi, Fakir! Sorry, I tipped over some of the cans and they fell on the floor!"

"I see… but what are you looking for, and what happened here?" Fakir gestured at the cluttered kitchen space as Zurab let go of the dark-haired man and stood next to Duck, who gingerly stepped down from the stool.

"I'm trying to make a stove-top chocolate cake for Zurab, but I just realized I don't have any eggs or enough butter," Duck answered, her sheepish expression giving way to worry as Zurab hovered expectantly by her side.

Reaching behind her back to undo her apron, she begged her neighbor, "Could you please watch Zurab for me while I go to the grocer's? It shouldn't take me more than half an hour."

Duck's hand paused when Fakir touched her arm. "You stay with Zurab; I can go instead. How many eggs and how much butter do you need?"

"Are you sure?" Duck began, but Fakir was already making his way back towards his apartment.

"Yes! Just let me put the mail down and change my coat," Fakir said, grimacing at the set of white hand prints on his beige-colored coat. Depositing the mail on his desk, Fakir opened his closet and pulled out the gray woolen coat Rachel had gifted him as an early birthday present.

Shrugging it onto his shoulders and plopping on his hat, Fakir found Duck waiting at her doorway as he exited his apartment. "Thank you, Fakir. I just need four eggs, and one stick of butter will be enough. Let me know how much it is and I'll pay you back!" Duck smiled gratefully, the look of relief evident on her face.

The sight of Duck's smile made Fakir's heart skip a little. Doing his best to look cool and collected, he nodded curtly. "Don't worry about it. I will be right back!"

Once his door was locked, Fakir turned and made his way down the stairs. Outside, a chilly autumn breeze swept past, making the detective pull up the collar of the coat and pull down his hat against the wind.

I should've brought a scarf, the detective rued, but carried on as he made his way towards the grocer a few blocks away.

Turning a corner, he passed a stooped figure in a long black coat. As Fakir passed by the figure's footsteps stilled and a pair of small dark eyes looked back in Fakir's direction from under the rim of the man's matching black fedora. But after a second, the figure turned and continued in the direction Fakir had come.

Back in her apartment, Duck and Zurab stood in front of the dining table and began measuring out the dry ingredients for the cake.

"Let's see, I remember the recipe said one cup of flour…" Duck poured the measured flour into a mixing bowl while Zurab—the top of his head barely clearing the table—watched keenly from the side. "…and half a cup of cocoa powder," Duck said as she opened the tin of cocoa and inserted a spoon inside.

But to her dismay, instead of hitting fine cocoa powder, the spoon glanced off as if it had struck a rock instead. Peering into the tin and shaking it about, Duck saw that the cocoa powder inside had solidified into a hard, brown lump. Putting the tin to her nose, Duck made a face at the scent of the old cocoa, and it was clear that the product she had was unusable.

"Drat!" Duck sighed heavily. I should've checked all of the ingredients before I started, the red-head ran a hand through her hair. Not wanting to wait for Fakir and trouble him a second time, Duck began to take off her apron once again.

"Sorry, Zurab, but I have to go buy some cocoa," Duck said hurriedly, glancing quickly at the little boy. "The dry goods store is close by and I'll only be gone for a few minutes. Will you be alright by yourself for a little while?"

Zurab gave Duck a small nod and Duck in turn gave the boy a quick hug. "Great! Be careful, okay? Don't climb on the windows or touch the stove, alright?"

"Zurab knows, zura," the child answered solemnly as Duck grabbed her wallet and coat.

"Okay, I will be right back!" Duck said and closed the door. As she reached for her key, Duck turned when she heard the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs behind her. Is Fakir back already? she wondered.

However, it was not Fakir who emerged at the top of the stairs, but a stooped figure with wide shoulders. Seeing Duck, the man looked up and Duck found herself staring into a pair of small, dark eyes that were eerily familiar.

"Hey, ya know where a fella named Fakir Romei-rath live-th?" the man said with a pronounced lisp as he walked up to Duck.

Duck heard the distorted speech coming from the man's lips, and the image on the photograph Fakir had shown her came flooding back from her memories. The blood drained from Duck's face.

"Um… um, no… I…" Duck's feet staggered backward as the man she recognized as Worm Tongue halted in front of her. She tried to fumble for the doorknob behind her back while stammering, "I-I don't know a Fakir Romeiras…"

But the broad-shouldered man did not move. His beady eyes leering at her, Worm Tongue straightened his back and stretched out his shoulders. As if he were a snake uncoiling and rearing up to reveal its true size, the giant man's shadow grew until he completely eclipsed Duck.

In a flash, his hand seized her forearm and jerked her toward him until Duck could see her reflection in his eyes.

"I recognize you… you're that broad who wa-th with him!" Worm Tongue muttered at Duck's face.

By now Duck's heart was pounding wildly, and she tried to pull away, but that only made Worm Tongue tighten his vice grip painfully around her arm to the point where if felt as though he would snap her arm in two.

"Let me go—!" she cried, pain as well as fear shooting through every fiber of her body, but her voice was reduced to a whimper when the cold, hard tip of a gun barrel was pushed under her chin.

"One more sound outta ya and I'll blow your brain-th out, ya hear?" Worm Tongue hissed before roughly dragging Duck towards the stairs. "You're coming with me!"

A/N

I realized as I was editing this chapter that what is happening in-story to Duck is now unfortunately also happening to a lot of people in the real-world as a result of the COVID-19 pandemic. To my readers and their families whose lives have been impacted by the pandemic, you have my thoughts and best wishes. Though this chapter got a bit heavy at times (and ended on a cliff-hanger, no less) I hope it was able to help entertain you and maybe brighten your day, just a little bit.

*"Russkaya" is the Romanized spelling of "Русская", which is Russian for the feminine form of "Russian" i.e. the people of Russia. Thanks to Zerozeroren on Tumblr for help with the translation!

*My head-canon for Pique in this universe is that her family is Hispanic, specifically Puerto Rican American, but until now I never had an opportunity to delve into her background. Pique's second last name is taken from her English voice actress, Cynthia Martinez, while her given name was inspired by Pura Belpré, who was a writer and folklorist and the first Puerto Rican librarian in New York City. Many Spanish and Hispanic last names are a combination of the father and mother's surnames. As for why Pique goes by "Pique" and not "Pura", my idea is that when she was born, due to a clerical error at the hospital, her full name was mistakenly registered as "Pique Martinez" instead of "Pura Pique-Martinez". Her parents had it corrected when Pique was still a baby, but the name "Pique" stuck and even though it's technically part of her last name, it's the name everyone knows and addresses her by.

*$3 in 1925 is around $29.48 in 2020. To put this into perspective, back in 1925 an entree such as Chicken a la King at a high-end restaurant in New York City was around 85 cents, while meals at more affordable cafeterias-style restaurants cost 10 cents or less.

*While the locations of the pointe shoe shop and Duck and Fakir's apartment are entirely fictional, G Mugliucci is a real place. Now known as Mario's Restaurant, it's a famous old-school Italian-American restaurant that's been at 2342 Arthur Ave in the "Little Italy" area of Bronx, New York since 1919. The restaurant was originally known as G Mugliucci, a small restaurant with six tables that sold simple foods like escarole in broth and pizza at 5 cents a slice. The name was changed to Mario's Restaurant in the 1930's when Mario Mugliucci took over the family business and changed it into the fine dining restaurant that it's still known as today.

*The Thunderbolt is actually the name of two different rollercoasters at Coney Island. The original Thunderbolt was a wooden coaster and opened to the public in 1925, the year of this story. It was torn down and replaced with a new steel Thunderbolt coaster in 2014. The Wonder Wheel is a Ferris wheel located at Deno's Wonder Wheel Amusement Park, and it first opened in 1920.

*"Как Вас зовут?" (Romantized as "Kak Vas zovut?") is Russian for "What is your name?" Thanks once again to Zerozeroren for their assistance in translation!

As ever, a big "thank you" to Tomoyo Ichijouji for her help with proof-reading and editing!