In the Still of the Night

on the other hand, was a young man who thrived on society—New York City society in particular. A superb polo player, a bon vivant who had never seen a sunrise unless it was at the end of his evening and who was never without a coterie of lovely young women (and the occasional lovely young man) drooling over him, he wasn’t prepared for living in a remote mansion perched over the tiny town of Voorburg-on-Hudson.
    But in the few months they’d lived at Grace and Favor Cottage, Robert had made a sincere attempt to accept the situation and kept himself very busy tending to the enormous, beautiful, butter-yellow, highly chromed Duesenberg that was also part of their inheritance. This, to him, was the only remaining remnant of the Good Life.
    Though they were housed in a mansion, they had no income and no skills at earning a living. Mr. Prinney, the estate’s attorney, and his wife moved into the mansion as well, however, and paid a modest room and board fee. Mr. Prinney was their jailor, their boarder, and controller of the funds that would someday be theirs, and he had come to be—in his distinctly proper, prissy way—a friend to them. His wife didn’t mind leaving their former home in the town because their four daughters had married and left home and she was lonely for a bustling household. She was a big, hearty woman with a fine appetite whose life revolved around the pleasure she took in feeding people. The more, the better. So she became their cook, and the Brewsters and Prinneys ate superbly well.
    Mr. Prinney, who hadn’t approved of his client’s will, was inclined to be generous in his assessment of what costs were justified in keeping up the house. There was a live-in maid, and normal household purchases—toilet paper, soap, cleaning supplies, all the costs of upkeep and repairs—were paid from the estate funds, which were mainly in land, gold and small businesses. Great-uncle Horatio had seen the crash of the market coming and had gotten out.
    Still, while Lily and Robert had a place to live and good food, they had very little money to spend on themselves, and Great-uncle Horatio had made clear in his will that maintenance of the estate didn’t include allowances. Lily’s and Robert’s clothes were out of date, and starting to look very shabby. Lily, who was a great reader, couldn’t buy books, and the town library couldn’t keep pace with her because the village budget no longer allowed for purchase of new books. Lily couldn’t even afford to have her hair done, which she considered a horrible fate. Robert had very few companions and he pined for society, bright lights and bun fights like he used to participate in gleefully at several of his elite clubs.
    But over the years, the anger she’d felt about her father had gradually faded to a sort of numb pity. And, surprisingly, a certain amount of gratitude. If things hadn’t happened as they did, Uncle Horatio wouldn’t have had his sneaky detective keep an eye on the brother and sister. Uncle wouldn’t have seen, albeit secondhand, how hard they had worked to keep their heads above water. He wouldn’t have had the least faith that they could make themselves useful and productive here in this sprawling mansion.
    Of course, this first foray into commerce might prove that they couldn’t.
    Lily had come to love living in the house, residing in the small town of Voorburg-on-Hudson, in spite of the dire poverty most of the citizens were enduring with anger tempered with bitter humor, mostly in the form of Hoover jokes. It was better to be poor in Voorburg than it was in New York City. A number of people who could ill-afford it had taken in the children of the even less fortunate. There were good people in Voorburg.
    Lily had discovered since coming to Grace and Favor that she had a skill for numbers and Mr. Prinney had been gradually bringing her along in the many businesses and pieces of property that were part of the inheritance. While many of the businesses had gone bankrupt, Mr. Prinney and Lily had agreed to attempt to keep as many of them as possible in business. They were, in their very small way, actively fighting the crush of unemployment, and that made her proud.
    The big bakery in Cleveland was doing all right in spite of some labor leaders making threatening talk. So were the cattle ranches in Colorado, and the film studios in California were paying off their leases quite successfully. The talkies seemed to be the only thing