Love for Sale

point.”
    When he had gone, Lily was a bit at loose ends. She helped Mrs. Prinney in the kitchen for a while, but when the doorbell rang, she had to answer it because Mrs. Prinney was elbow-deep in a salad she was making for lunch and Mimi the maid was washing linens.
    The man at the front door was wearing an enormously heavy, expensive-looking winter coat. His hat was pulled forward, and what little of his hair showed was obviously a cheap wig. His eyes were shaded with sunglasses.
    “I’m James Smith. I understand you rent out rooms.“
    “We do sometimes. Would you like to come inside? I’m Lily Brewster.”
    Mr. Smith, if that was really his name, didn’t remove his hat or glasses, but looked around. “I need to house three of my business associates and myself for a few days in privacy,“ he said.
    “We have a large bedroom at the end of the second-floor hall that could serve as a meeting room, with attached bath and valet quarters. But your other people would have to stay in smallish rooms on the third floor. To give you a price, we’d need to know what meals you’d require and how long you’re staying.”
    Lily was wary of him. She’d give him the highest price she could imagine to discourage him. But he beat her to the punch. Fishing in his coat pocket for a wallet and turning his back to her for a moment, he handed her ten fifty-dollar bills.
    “Would this do for a down payment?“ he asked. “Cost is irrelevant. Complete privacy is vital. We’d want to stay from Friday evening to Monday or Tuesday morning.”
    Lily pocketed the bills in the apron she was still wearing. “I can let you know later today. It isn’t entirely up to me. Could you give me a telephone number to call and let you know?“
    “No. I’ll call you at eight this evening. Show me this room.”
    She took him upstairs and to what had once been Great-uncle Horatio’s enormous bedroom, then Robert’s room for a while until they had renovated it for special guests. She showed the visitor that there was also a small hallway that led to a bathroom and a servant’s room.
    Mr. Smith took a quick look around. “We’d need that bed moved out of the middle of the room and a worktable and chairs brought in to replace it. I’ll let myself out.”
    She hurried to follow him, but he was surprisingly light on his feet. He darted out of the mansion and around the corner. She couldn’t even get a glimpse of what sort of transportation he had. But even with the overly generous down payment, she was frightened of him.
    He disappeared and she went back to the kitchen and told Mrs. Prinney about the visitor. “He was in a disguise, but let me show you what he gave me.“ She pulled out the money.
    “Oh, my! What a lot of money!“ the older woman exclaimed. “You’re not going to turn him down, are you?“
    “What if he’s the leader of a bunch of gangsters?“ Lily asked. “I read in the paper that Pretty Boy Floyd pays people or buys them booze to hide his gang. We don’t know who this man is, and no amount of money would justify letting gangsters use the house.“
    “Did he look like a gangster?“
    “I don’t know.“ She described the way he was dressed and wigged and the bland name he’d given. “He could have been anyone. I couldn’t even see enough of him to guess his age.“
    “You’ll have to consult with Elgin and your brother. But it’s a lot of money, dear.“
    “It is,“ Lily said, caressing the bills. “And it’s only the down payment, he said. But I’m not sure we need it enough to have mysterious men in the house. What if they bring guns and rob a bank?“
    “Voorburg doesn’t have a bank anymore,“ Mrs. Prinney pointed out. “It went bankrupt before you even came here to live.”
    As did our father, Lily thought. She and Robert had grown up as spoiled rich kids until the Crash, when their father had mortgaged all their homes and invested everything in the stock market. Then jumped out the window of the broker’s fifth-floor office.
    The debate at dinner defeated Lily. “We’re supposed to be earning our own living,“ Robert pointed out. “And if this is only part of what they’ll pay, who cares who they are?”
    Mr. Elgin Prinney, Esquire, was the executor of the Brewster’s inheritance of their great-uncle Horatio’s estate. Under the conditions of Horatio’s will, the siblings had to live in Voorburg and support themselves for ten years, only being gone from Voorburg for two weeks