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“All right,” she said, taking a deep breath. “I am not supposed to be telling you this, so you have to promise to take it to your grave!”
Evie mimed crossing her heart. “And hope to die.”
Satisfied, Mabel leaned forward. “I am a member of the Secret Six,” she said at last, craning her neck to be sure she wasn’t overheard.
Evie looked perplexed. “Is that a dance troupe? Tell me you haven’t taken up mime! Because I could certainly understand not wanting anyone to know about that.”
“The Secret Six!” Mabel said with more energy. When Evie still looked blank, Mabel groaned. “We’re rebels? Revolutionaries? Honestly, don’t you ever read anything besides the gossip pages? We’ve been in all the papers!”
As it came to Evie, her teasing smile faded. “Wait a minute. The Secret Six. Didn’t they dynamite a factory somewhere? Mabel… aren’t they anarchists?”
Mabel sat up very straight. “So what if we are? This world needs a bit of shaking up. And anyway, the Six have never hurt anyone—not like the Pinkertons, the capitalists, and the government. We fight for the worker.”
“Fight for the worker how, though? Mabesie…” Evie paused, unsure of what to say. She didn’t want to make Mabel mad. “You’re not doing anything foolish, are you?”
Mabel leaned back against the booth. “You have some nerve. What about you? What about your… ghost removal policy.”
Evie rolled her eyes. “It’s hardly a policy.”
“That isn’t the point.”
“We’re trying to find Conor and keep our country safe, I’ll remind you.”
“At what cost?” Mabel asked. “I’m not sure that what you’re doing is right.”
“I see. Are you becoming a champion of ghosts’ rights now?” Evie snapped, and immediately regretted it. Mabel went quiet. “I’m sorry, Pie Face. I just don’t want you to get hurt!”
Mabel responded with cold fury. “You know who’s getting hurt? Workers. Poor people. Immigrants. Every day. It’s a rigged game, Evie. The people at the top say they believe in the people at the bottom until those people try to climb up. And then the people at the top step on the hands of the climbing people they claim to believe in and cast them down the ladder.”
“I’m sorry for what I said. Truly I am.”
“It’s fine.”
“No, it isn’t.” Evie chewed softly on her bottom lip. “What about your parents?”
“They don’t know,” Mabel admitted. “Oh, look, I love Mama and Papa, but they’re so old-fashioned! They only let me hand out pamphlets and carry picket signs. I want to be in the fight! I want to get my hands dirty!”
“Mabel Rose for president!” Evie said, punching the air with her index finger. She took Mabel’s hands in hers. “You’re the best person I know, Mabel Rose. If you vouch for Arthur Brown and the Secret Six, they must be jake.”
Mabel blushed. “I’m not the best person.”
“You are, so! You’re good and kind, and you want to make the world better.”
Evie kissed Mabel’s cheek, and Mabel rested her forehead against Evie’s. It felt good to be close friends again, to trust Evie with her secrets. It had never occurred to Mabel before to ask Evie to read something of Arthur’s, but now that the idea was in her head, it wouldn’t leave. He was awfully secretive. What if he had a sweetheart somewhere? What if Mabel could know more about the wounds of his past and make them better? She was good at fixing broken things, and it would be so easy to know.…
“I do have something of Arthur’s,” Mabel blurted out, hating herself a little for it. “Not that I’m saying you should read it.”
Evie smirked. “You’re not telling me not to read it, either.”
Mabel reached into her pocket and pulled out Arthur’s card, the one he’d given her the day they’d met. “I really shouldn’t.”
Reluctantly, she handed it to Evie, who held it up to her forehead like a soothsayer. “What mysterious mysteries will be revealed tonight on… the Sweetheart Seer!”
“Oh, this is a terrible idea! Forget I said anything!” Mabel snatched the card back, tapping her fingers against it on the table.
Miss Addie wandered through and the girls watched her, dribbling salt from the pockets of her dress, mumbling something about “Keep Elijah in his grave.”
“Same bad cocoa. Same spooky Adelaide,” Evie said. She downed the last of her drink. “Come on. I want to go see this Maria Provenza.”
