For a second the shadow of something dark crosses Mrs. Mattaman’s face, but then it’s gone and she dries her hand on her apron and hurries out to where Piper is reluctantly wiping her feet on the Mattamans’ doormat.

She gathers Piper into her arms. Piper seems to crumble, like a log burned to the core. She folds into Mrs. Mattaman as if she’s been holding herself together until this very moment.

Mrs. Mattaman’s lips press together until they are almost purple. She cradles Piper between her two short arms and ushers her into the warm living room with its good baking smells.

On the couch Piper gasps for air. Mrs. Mattaman holds her while she cries.

It’s probably only a minute or two, but the sound is like nothing I’ve ever heard before.

“Now, now.” Mrs. Mattaman strokes Piper’s head gently and lovingly. Piper Williams, the girl who tried to get her husband fired.

Mr. Mattaman is in the living room now too. Piper’s face seems to crumble all over again when she sees him. She buries her head in Mrs. Mattaman’s lap. But then something inside of her forces her head up.

She grabs hold of her arms, wraps them around herself. Her eyes dart toward Mr. Mattaman. “You were never drunk,” she whispers, the sadness making her tongue too thick for her mouth. “I guess you know that.”

“Yes,” Mrs. Mattaman says softly. She has hold of Mr. Mattaman’s hand now too, as if the three of them are linked in something larger than themselves.

The tears flow across Piper’s face like water lapping against the dock. “I’m…” Piper is trying to say something else, but she can’t get the words out because her chest is heaving too hard. “Sorry,” she finally says as Theresa comes in, her hands on her hips, her mouth ready to burst.

“Theresa.” Mrs. Mattaman lets go of Piper and holds a hand out to Theresa. “Piper has apologized. We’ve forgiven her, haven’t we?”

Theresa looks from her mother to her father, both of whom are directing their chins up and down as if they are nodding for her. Theresa’s mouth opens to object, but the force of her parents’ will carries her head along. She nods in the same beat and time as they do.

Piper is curled up next to Mrs. Mattaman on the couch with Theresa on her other side. Piper puts her head on Mrs. Mattaman’s lap and falls fast asleep with Mrs. Mattaman’s hand on her hair.

Friday, September 13, 1935

It’s tense this week on the island. No one knows what’s happening with Piper’s mom, and the warden spends all of his time at the hospital. With Warden Williams gone, Associate Warden Chudley is in charge. But the warden has never left his post before, so Chudley has no idea how to handle the island without him. In the kitchen, I hear my dad and mom discussing this. “Can’t make a decision which shoe to put on first,” my dad tells my mom. “He shouldn’t be in charge. Let’s just hope nothing happens… ”

Luckily on Friday, when Jimmy and I get back from school, the warden is down at the dock. “A boy! It’s a boy!” he crows, handing out cigars to every man getting off the boat, no matter his rank. “I have a son! Walter, his name is Walter William Williams.” His voice full of joy, his big face beaming with delight, he looks like another person entirely.

“What happened with Piper’s mom?” Jimmy whispers.

“Beats me,” I say.

It’s not until Jimmy and I get to the Mattamans’ apartment that we find out the full story.

“It was touch and go, but it looks like Mrs. Williams is gonna make it,” Mrs. Mattaman tells us from the kitchen, where she is cleaning celery. “That got lost in the warden’s report, did it?” Mrs. Mattaman lays the celery out and works her knife across it with a rising vengeance.

“Was Piper at school, Moose?” Mrs. Mattaman asks without looking up from her work. “Because I didn’t see her with the warden.”

I nod. “She was, but she didn’t come home with us.”

“Course it’s none of my business… but why the warden felt the need to bring his son home last night with his wife still in the hospital”-chop, chop, chop-“I will never understand. You’d think he gave birth to that baby by himself.”

“Where’s the baby now?” Jimmy asks.

“Mrs. Caconi is watching him. But all this morning the warden was parading him up one side of the island and down the other.” Mrs. Mattaman shakes her head. “And now he’s throwing a party. Why he couldn’t wait until June got home I will never understand.” Mrs. Mattaman points her knife at us. “You didn’t hear that… either one of you.”

“Yes, ma’am,” we tell her as she dumps the celery into a giant burbling pot that smells like garlic and tomato sauce.

Outside we see Bea Trixle hauling out cartons of beer for the grown-ups and root beer for the kids. Mrs. Chudley has her accordion and begins to play.

Soon, Mr. and Mrs. Bomini are dancing on the balcony of 64 building and even my mom goes up to the Officers’ Club and plays requests for the warden, who is giddy with happiness. His son in his arms, he waltzes around the Officers’ Club, until Mrs. Caconi snatches the newborn back, insisting he needs a bottle and a diaper change.

It’s Mrs. Mattaman who notices Piper is nowhere to be found.

“Maybe she’s still in the city,” I suggest as Annie, Theresa, Natalie, and I sweep through the food line filling our napkins with cannolis, cookies, brownies, and cake.

“Go up to her house. All of you,” Mrs. Mattaman insists, pushing us out into the foggy afternoon. “Make sure she’s not holed up there all by her lonesome. Go on, you’ve got your marching orders, you hear?”

I’m not wild about this idea. Dealing with Piper these days is like picking up black widow spiders with my bare hands. But there’s nothing else to do. Mrs. Mattaman is at the Officers’ Club door, herding us up the hill. And Natalie is already ahead of us. I hurry and catch up.

The warden’s house is dark and silent. It’s as if the good news hasn’t reached the top tier of the island yet. Not even Buddy and Willy One Arm are visible, though I can hear them working in the kitchen. The front door is partly open.

“Piper!” we call as Annie and I, Theresa and Natalie climb the stairs to Piper’s room. Piper doesn’t answer. The door to her room is closed. Annie knocks.

“What?” Piper barks.

“We brought you cookies,” Annie tells her.

“I’m not hungry,” Piper declares, opening the door. As we troop in, she snatches a cannoli out of my hand. For a second, I think she’s going to toss it in the trash. Throwing away a Mattaman cannoli is like burning the American flag as far as I’m concerned. But no, she stuffs it in her mouth, squishing the cream out the back side.

“I’m not hungry,” she mumbles, her mouth full of cream.

Theresa squints at her. “You should be happy now. Your mom is okay.”

“What do you know about it?” she snaps, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

“My mom said she was better.”

Piper nods. “She is better. I wish she’d come home,” she admits as we hear Jimmy outside.

“Go get the door. It’s Jimmy,” Theresa commands.

“Why don’t you get it?” Annie asks.

Theresa makes a face. “I don’t like going down there by myself.”

“Buddy Boy! Could you let Jimmy in!” Piper calls down.

Jimmy knocks another time.

“Buddy Boy!” Piper calls again.

Theresa jumps up and heads for the open hall window and pokes her head out. “That’s not Jimmy. It’s Mrs. Caconi.”

“Sounded like Jimmy,” Piper mutters.

Mrs. Caconi is inside now, climbing the stairs. “This is your own little house, Walter Williams. Not so little, either. Twenty-two rooms it is. Best one on the Rock.” Mrs. Caconi is huffing and puffing harder than usual. She chuffs and hisses when she breathes, like a freight train.