feet and out of the way. She gave a shriek of protest and squirmed. A second later an iron bed frame unfolded from the cabinet and slammed to the floor.
He set her down while she was still muttering something about an oaf and walked over to the iron frame. He turned back to her. She was swiping back a hank of black hair from her red face. He pointed to the bed. "What the hell kind of bed is this supposed to be?"
She raised her chin. "It's a folding bed."
"Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why would anyone want a folding bed?"
"For convenience of course."
"What's convenient about a folding bed? Looks damn inconvenient to me."
"It saves space."
He eyed the bed. "Who cares about space if it's too short to sleep in."
"It's not too short for me."
He let his eyes roam slowly from the top of her stuck-up head to her feet pressed together at the ankles in that annoying prim way she had. "Doesn't look to me as if you'd fit. Unless you sleep with your knees all drawn up."
"How I sleep is none of your concern, Mr. Donoughue."
"You'd never catch me in that bed."
"There is a God."
The movers laughed out loud. He wanted to laugh, too, but he didn't. Instead he stared at her long enough to annoy her. She gave him a smile that held no humor and spun around. He waited until she was halfway across the room. "We could always use my bed." She stopped as if she had run smack dab into a wall.
She turned slowly, her jaw set and her words gritty. "Mis-ter Donoughue—"
Ignoring her, he strolled around some of the trunks and crates that separated them, looking inside. "So what other kind of contraptions do you have around here?"
"I don't recall inviting you in here."
"You didn't." He scanned the room. It was a huge cavernous place. It wasn't dark like his flat. Half the roof was glass. It let sunlight in, but it also leaked whenever it rained. He knew because it had leaked on some wooden boxes, damaging a shipment of leather elbow pads and knee guards.
"I think the movers will be able to handle the rest of my things. Alone." She walked toward him. "I don't want to keep you from whatever it is you do."
"You're not." He turned his back on her and strolled over to an overstuffed chair, sat down, and made himself comfortable, then crossed his hands behind his head and propped his feet on a crate of dishes packed in excelsior.
She watched him from a face that was half offended and half frustrated.
He would have stayed there all morning if Lenny hadn't come running upstairs all in a panic because Beckman's Laundry Wagon had forgotten to deliver last week's load of towels.
A few minutes later Conn was walking down the street toward Beckman's. He stood on the corner, where a uniformed copper on horseback controlled the traffic.
Conn glanced back at the gym. He could see those old glass transoms on the roof. He watched them for a few lost minutes, before he heard the police whistle and turned around just in time to catch the man next to him staring up at him in awe. Conn was used to those looks.
He glanced down at the man who tried to cover his embarrassment by quickly looking away. After a minute he turned back and caught Conn's eye. "Looks like rain," the man said.
"You think so?" Conn glanced up. The sky was turning a dull gray color that could mean rain.
"Yeah, with those clouds it'll be pouring by tonight."
The policeman's whistle blew again, and everyone began to cross the street. Conn was in the crowd but a head above everyone else. The wind picked up and ruffled his hair. He turned around, walking backward across the street, looking back at those leaky glass windows on the slope of the roof.
Grinning, Conn turned back and stepped up on the opposite curb. He shoved his hands in the deep pockets of his pants and strolled down the street—whistling.
The first raindrop fell on Eleanor's forehead around midnight. Her eyes shot open. The second drop plopped on her nose and dripped down her cheek. After the third drop, she sat up.
Her roof was leaking.
She threw back the covers and got up. The rain outside was coming down harder, pattering a constant beat on the glass and the roof tiles. Drops of water splattered all over the floor and on what little furniture she still owned. She rushed toward