even told Justine, There was probably a good reason why he wanted to leave her in the first place. They always added a shrug for good measure.
What kind of world prevented women from divorcing terrible husbands, but shrugged whenever husbands up and left whenever they felt like it?
“What happens next?”
“I’m afraid that’s all we are able to do at this point.”
When Mr. Solomon repeated this for Mrs. von Briesen, she began to tremble, her eyes filling with tears. Justine held out her hand, giving the other woman the opportunity to take comfort if she needed, and Mrs. von Briesen clasped it tightly. Justine squeezed, trying to offer a bit of strength. This had to be nothing short of a nightmare.
“Please tell her that I would like to help her and her family,” Justine said, and Solomon relayed the message. Mrs. von Briesen nodded in understanding. Justine looked back to Mr. Solomon. “I will try to find her husband.”
Solomon appeared relieved. “I know you’ve had some success in the past, Miss Greene, and I do hope you are able to find him. Breaks my heart to turn anyone away when they come to us for assistance.”
“Me, as well. Please, tell her.”
The lawyer informed Mrs. von Briesen of Justine’s pledge and the other woman turned to Justine, her gaze solemn and grateful. “Thank you,” she said in accented English.
“You are welcome,” Justine replied. Then she held out her free hand toward Solomon. “Her file, please. I’ll take it from here.”
Jack pushed open the door of the Little Water Street Brewery. Rye and Cooper, Jack’s usual shadows for neighborhood errands, trailed him inside. This would certainly prove a more pleasant stop than some of the others they’d made today. The brewery was a passion of Jack’s, a partnership started with Patrick Murphy, the brewer.
They met seven years ago, when Jack tasted Patrick’s homemade lager. Patrick had been brewing and selling it out of the back of a drugstore on Pearl Street. Jack knew quality beer when he found it, having been raised on the drink like mother’s milk. Patrick had a gift for flavors. Within months, the two of them had gone into business together, eventually opening this brewery. The beer was now sold all over Lower Manhattan and Brooklyn, thanks to Jack’s distribution genius.
Jack saw big things ahead for this brewery. And for him.
The pungent smell of hops and grain sank into his lungs. Heat hung in the air surrounding the huge copper kettles, where yeast had been added to the wort and would ferment until it was properly aged. Assistants were carrying ledgers, recording temperatures and checking levels.
“Mulligan!”
Jack turned to the sound and found Patrick hurrying toward him. “Afternoon, Patrick. I see you are hard at work, as usual.”
The two shook hands. “I had to add two more kettles this week just to handle the new orders. I don’t know how you managed to get us sold in Madison Square Garden, but I am grateful.”
“I happened to meet one of the Garden’s investors and I made the pitch.” It turned out the investor had a hop habit, and Jack had promised not to reveal such details to the investor’s wife in exchange for the deal. But, there was no use sullying Patrick’s mind with the dirty details. “Do you have a moment to spare for me?”
“Indeed, I do. Would you like to try a sample of something I’m working on?”
“That’s like asking if I’d like to watch Rembrandt paint.”
Color washed over Patrick’s neck. “A ridiculous comparison but I’ll take the compliment. Let’s sit at the bar.”
Jack followed Patrick to the corner, where a high table and chairs served as the room’s bar. The two of them often sat here to discuss the business or taste ingredients. Jack much preferred to see the main brewing room than be sequestered back in Patrick’s office.
Patrick shouted to one of the workers. “Jimmy, bring us a bottle of that Saaz lager, will you?”
They settled in the chairs. “How are things in general?” Jack asked. “Need more staff?”
“No, not after the last round of hires. It’s a good group.” Patrick rolled his sleeves up. “Why? Do you have someone in mind?”
Jack thought of Justine and the shirtwaist factory. “Just wanted to ensure the hours and wages are fair. That we keep workers happy and reduce accidents.”
“I have them in six-hour shifts, and they make more here than any factory in the neighborhood. Besides, they get free beer each week. Hell, some of them would work for