Anything Goes

it has become onerous to maintain. Since I, as trustee, must be able at the end of the ten years to document and testify to your residence here, I would make so bold as to suggest that Mrs. Prinney and I could become boarders at Honeysuckle Cottage. It would be far more convenient to me, it would please Mrs. Prinney and relieve her of many responsibilities and such an arrangement would give you a modest income.“
    “How modest?“ Robert asked.
    “That can be negotiated,“ Mr. Prinney said with a sniff. “In good time.”
    Lily was doing furious and largely inaccurate mathematics in her head, trying to tote up Robert’s irregular income, her extremely meager pay at the bank and the cost of train fare and figure out how much would be left. The figures she came up with didn’t make her happy. And there was greedy, stuffy Cousin Claude to consider.
    Mr. Prinney rose. “I believe you should see the rest of the house.”
    While the interior of the house hadn’t been as severely neglected as the grounds, it was certainly not an aesthetic pleasure to view. It wasn’t even easy to view properly. Electricity had been installed, but most of the light bulbs had burned out. The vines that covered almost all the windows gave everything a dark, underwater look, although they also kept it a good ten degrees cooler inside.
    All the furniture except for that in the room with the Hudson River view had been dust-sheeted and lurked greenly in the shadows. Lily lifted a few of the sheets as they toured and found that there were decent, if a bit oversized, sofas, chairs, tables and beds hiding beneath. Nearly every room had rugs that had been carefully rolled and covered. A few quick examinations revealed that at least they weren’t frayed at the edges.
    Moreover, the house was huge. Besides the library, entry hall and grand staircase, there was a parlor, a reception room, a huge dining room, a morning room, a little office, a ballroom and several other unidentifiable rooms on the ground floor alone. On the second floor, bedrooms and bathrooms stretched down the long upper hall in both directions from the staircase. Mr. Prinney explained that there were even more, but smaller, rooms on the third floor for servants and guests’ servants. “And there are attics, of course,“ he added.
    But neither Lily nor Robert were really ready to take in the details. Such a windfall, Lily thought. A fortune. But ten years in this house? With Mr. Prinney? And what if Mrs. Prinney was a terror? Mild, prissy little old men often had tyrants as wives. On the other hand, there was that magnificent view of the river that would be a positive balm to the soul. She wouldn’t have to bang elbows with Robert in their tiny apartment, or walk the hot pavements or go nearly mad at the thought of years at the bank stretching before her.
    The kitchen was awful enough to bring her out of her reverie. The lock on the kitchen door had been broken and hobos had apparently taken up residence at some point. There were empty bottles and tin cans and newspapers all over the room. It stank of desperation, sweat and despair. Still, the hobos hadn’t invaded the rest of the house, which Lily found remarkable. Even cleaned up, the kitchen would be horribly old-fashioned, dark and grim.
    “Perhaps I should have warned you,“ Mr. Prinney said as Lily swayed. “The cooking facilities would have to be updated considerably.“
    “Isn’t that...“ Lily could hardly bring herself to say it. “... a wood-burning stove and pump-handle water supply?”
    He nodded sadly. “But Mrs. Prinney would be very happy to help you fix things up. She’s an excellent cook and knows precisely what a kitchen needs to function efficiently.“
    “That’s good to know,“ Lily said. Before the stock market crash the family had a number of homes. Lily had never even seen the kitchen in two of them. And her only experience with cooking since then had been opening tins into saucepans and warming them on the hot plate in the apartment. She didn’t imagine that would qualify as the ‘board’ part of ‘room and board.’
    “You don’t suppose,“ Lily said sweetly, “that your wife would consider cooking for all of us? I’m really not a cook and I’m afraid both of you would starve otherwise.”
    Mr. Prinney beamed. “How fortuitous a thought. Mrs. Prinney’s sole regret about leaving our own home has been the thought of having to eat what others prepare for us. She’s really