In the Still of the Night

may be right. I’ll think about it.“
    “Think about it while you look over these numbers I’ve prepared,“ Lily said, handing him a stack of sheets with carefully thought out costs and possible profits.
    In the end, he agreed to the plan, albeit with great reluctance and on only two-thirds of the expenses Lily had proposed.
    Then the real work started. All the many large and medium-sized bedrooms on the second floor were inventoried and cleaned thoroughly and the dust sheets put back on to keep them pristine. Their maid-of-all-work, Mimi Smith, who was a fanatic housekeeper, was given that title and a slight raise and put in charge of purchasing cleaning materials and hiring as little extra help as possible. Lily and Robert both pitched in and learned how to really clean things for the first time in their lives. Fortunately, Great-uncle Horatio, or perhaps his Aunt Flora before him, had a mania for bathrooms. The second floor had at least one tiny one for every two rooms.
    “This is not a talent I would have wished for,“ Robert groused. He had the heavy work of moving the furniture. “I’d rather be daintily dusting furniture. Dabbing here and there with a clean rag. With style and grace.“
    “Don’t let Mimi hear that. She’s an expert duster and considers it the very heart and soul of housework. I don’t think you grasp what a wonder shecan make of an old table with a soft cloth and a little beeswax.”
    When the second floor was done, they moved to the third. This was attics and servants’ quarters and required the biggest investment as there were no bathrooms.
    “We’re not asking nice people to use chamber pots!“ Lily was driven to very nearly screaming at Mr. Prinney when he got the bid for the plumbing and went haywire.
    “Nothing wrong with chamber pots,“ he said. “Plenty wrong with chamber pots,“ Robert said with a terribly charming smile. “Would you like for me to enumerate the problems?”
    They settled on two bathrooms on the third floor, one large nice one for women, one more modest-sized one for men at opposite ends of the central hall, even though Mr. Prinney wanted to save money by putting them side by side.
    “Ladies don’t like to be seen and, if you’ll forgive me for being rather vulgar, ‘heard’ in the bathroom,“ Lily said, her snobbishness in full flower. She was developing a fine sense of what would embarrass their keeper into submission.
    “Very well. It’s only money,“ Mr. Prinney said with what he foolishly considered devastating sarcasm.
    Lily started sending out invitations to various celebrities for a party the second weekend in April. Amelia Earhart wrote a very pleasant note saying she would be preparing to be the first woman to fly solo across the Atlantic in May and couldn’t take the time. Lily would treasure the note in spite of her personal disappointment.
    Sinclair Lewis responded that he was working on a new book that was due at the publisher in June.
    They had struck out entirely on their first round of invitations.
    And another thing cropped up unexpectedly. “You know what you’re planning is the weekend of The Fate,“ Mrs. Prinney said.
    “The Fate?“ Lily asked. Surely rock solid Mrs. Prinney, the best cook in four counties, wasn’t into some spiritualism.
    “You know. The town party.“
    “Oh, a fête.“
    “That’s what I said. It’s always held on the grounds here.“
    “What’s it like?“
    “Everybody brings picnic lunches and there are games and contests and races and the like. The schoolchildren sing and anybody who can play an instrument comes and there’s a bonfire and dancing in the evening.“
    “What do we have to do?“ Lily asked warily. Were they expected to be hosts? To provide food and drink and issue invitations?
    “Not a thing. Just let people in to use the facilities. Miss Flora started the tradition when she was a young woman, I hear, and even Mr. Horatio, your great-uncle, kept it up.“
    “Then it will be good free entertainment for the guests,“ Lily said. She almost added the word ‘bucolic’ but decided that might be offensive.
    But as the winter commenced and the news of the Depression became worse, Lily wondered if anyone would have the money to spend come spring. The economy of the country was deteriorating at an alarming rate. In small towns respectable citizens broke into grocery stores in angry, starving mobs. Nothing so violent had happened in Voorburg-on-Hudson yet, but it