Page 10 of Unlikely Heroes
“I doubt our armies can match Napoleon’s,” Angus said.
“Perhaps not yet. We haven’t found the right commander. We will.”
Angus stopped again. “Your brain should be studied, perhaps after you are dead,” he joked, at least Able thought it was a joke. “Do you think the Conde de Quintanar is as wickedly smart as you?”
“Let’s ask him, shall we, Captain Ogilvie?”Stop, Angus,Able thought.This is my life to ponder.
They continued in silence to Bartleby Bakery. Angus turned to Able and held out his hand. “Let me wish you well.” They shook hands. Ogilvie looked toward St. Brendan’s down the street and across from Able’s house. “D’ye think Lady St. Anthony will continue to instruct there?”
“I would be amazed if she didn’t,” Able replied. “She’s a born teacher and she abhors idleness and aimless little boys.”
Ogilvie nodded. “I like a determined woman.”
“So do I.”
With a nod, the shorter man built like a tree stump continued toward St. Brendan the Navigator School. Able watched him, still unable to make him out. Perhaps Meridee had some clues. He glanced into the bakery window.
Ezekiel Bartleby had already boxed up the dessert in question, plus treacle biscuits. From the look on Smitty’s face, the redoubtable lad had tried and failed to force the baker to take the coins. Able knew Smitty never cared much for failure.
He put his hand on the boy’s shoulder, pleased that he did not flinch. “Smitty, down the street, I see a one-legged tar propped against the building. He can use the coins, since our baker is a hard man to convince.”
“Aye, master.”
“When you’re done, Mrs. Perry probably has hot bread with butter waiting in the kitchen.”
“Could we take some to the beggar?” Nick asked. “I never cared much for hunger.”
“Nor I,” Smitty said. “We can convince Mrs. Perry.”
“I daresay you can,” Able said.
Smitty nodded and gestured to Nick, who followed with a grin. Able watched them go, pleased as always how good Smitty was at commanding others. Nick followed him without question.
“Thank you, Ezekiel,” Able said as he took the parcel. “Every little bit helps.” Able gave the baker a small salute and hurried home to Meridee, his heart lighter.
He saw the boys down the block, squatting beside the beggar, handing him the coins and then talking. He hurried up the steps, sniffing warm bread when he opened the door. This meant a stop in the kitchen, where Mrs. Perry handed him the well-buttered heel, his favorite slice, and gave him the next piece for Meridee.
“Two lads will be in here soon to petition some bread for a beggar,” he told her.
“He might like a sandwich,” Mrs. Perry said, and turned to the pantry. “Maybe two.”
“You’re a wonder,” he said. “Thank you for helping us, of late.”
“Where would we be, if left to our own devices?” She pointed to the door. “She’s holding Ben in the sitting room. He’s asleep.” Able watched her expressive face. “Master Six, she looks content.”
“Good.”
He ate the heel, then eyed Meri’s piece. Mrs. Perry scowled at him, and suddenly, things felt right again. He gave her a wink and walked to the sitting room, opening the door quietly in case both mother and son were asleep.
Mrs. Perry was right. Meri was awake, but he saw her contentment. She pursed her lips at him, which told him worlds about her mood. He kissed those pursed lips, which opened into a far more satisfactory kiss, and sat beside her on the sofa.
“I can carry him upstairs for you,” he whispered.
“In a minute. I like this,” she said softly. “It’s nice for his brain to be less busy.”
Able handed her the buttered bread, removed his shoes and propped his feet on the ottoman, tickling her bare toes, which made her smile. She ate the bread. “Just what I needed.”
“Mrs. Perry seems to know.”
