Anything Goes

everybody else was making decisions for her as if she were a simpleton.
    As well-schooled as Lily was in keeping her emotions under control, her face must have reflected the tenor of her thoughts.
    “Oh, dear. Now I’ve gone and stepped in it again,“ Mrs. Prinney said. “Mr. Prinney is always telling me to think more before I speak. I’m sorry, dearie, if I scared you with my brash talk.”
    Lily’s anger sputtered out. “No, no. You’re right about the kitchen. It’s too small and dark. A nice big window would help keep it cool in the summer and bright in the winter. Perhaps a pantry could be built out to the side, too. I’m being far too touchy lately,“ she said with a weak smile.
    “Being uprooted so sudden does that to folks,“ Mrs. Prinney sympathized. “You need to rest from your journey. I went to New York City once, and I swear I was as limp as a wet rag for a week afterward.”
    Lily grinned. The woman could scrub the whole top layer of a table off with something that looked vaguely like a potato masher, but a short train ride defeated her.
     
    Lily ran into Robert in the front hall.
    “We have a car! A gorgeous Duesie!“
    “A what?”
    Robert was dancing in place. “A Duesenberg Model J. The Derham Tourster. Almost brand-new.
    A big monster of a car that will hog the whole road! It goes with the house,“ he exclaimed. “It’s been neglected. Battery’s dead. Out of gas. But picture us swanning around Voorburg in it when I get it running!“
    “Thank God! No more taxicabs,“ Lily said.
    “We had a yacht, too. Or we would have if it hadn’t sunk. It’s odd, though,“ Robert said, trailing Lily up the stairs. “I asked Mr. Prinney if that was the boating accident he mentioned as the cause of Uncle Horatio’s death and he suddenly clammed up. He’d been chattering away like a squirrel on cocaine until then. He just drew himself up, twitched his silly moustache and said, ‘That’s something we don’t need to discuss,’ very curtly, and changed the subject.“
    “They were probably friends and it’s an unpleasant memory for him.“
    “Or it wasn’t an accident,“ Robert said.
    Lily stared at him for a moment and involuntarily shuddered. “Oh, Robert, don’t be melodramatic. Maybe Mr. Prinney just hates boats.“
    “Well, it was odd,“ he said. “I wonder—“
    “Take a look at your bedroom,“ Lily said. “It’s that big door at the end of the hall.”
    She watched as Robert walked away jauntily and strolled through the door. He came back out a few seconds later, looking wild-eyed. “I’ll turn into Edgar Allan Poe if I have to sleep in that room!“ he declared.
     

Chapter 5
     
    Lily ran water into her tiny bathtub to soak off the dirt and smell of the train trip. Although the tub was very short and narrow, it was tall and by scrunching down a bit and leaving her knees high and dry, she could submerge to her chin in the cool water. If she let her legs hang over the front, she discovered that she could even wash her hair, though rinsing it out was going to be problematic. This was the first time since they’d left the Gramercy Park apartment almost two years earlier that she’d taken a full, all-atone-time bath. The hideous apartment in the city had only a showerhead and a drain in the cramped bathroom. There hadn’t even been a curtain around it until Robert rigged one up. And half the time the canvas curtain ended up falling on her like a moldy tarp. The water supply had been fitful, sometimes flooding the room, more often dribbling out in a cold, gray, gritty stream.
    How simple and spoiled she’d been most of her life, assuming that baths were commonplace. They were, she had learned, a fabulous luxury when you’re poor. And a pretty bar of scented soap was an intoxicating addition.
    She lathered herself with the bubbling lilac fragrance, which made her dizzy with delight. She still had no money. There would be no more scented soaps when she’d used this one up unless Mr. Prinney could be persuaded that they were a household necessity. She’d have to go on wearing the darned stockings, the shoes that were getting so thin-soled she could feel the ground through them, the everyday dresses that had seams that often gave out.
    But she could be clean. She could take a bath in privacy without hearing the toilet in the next apartment flush. She could smell nice. She’d taken all that for granted for twenty-two of her twenty-four years. The last two