Rachel Alexander 04 - Lady Vanishes

hired to take the phone calls, that one, to see who was coming in the front door. No one knew what else she’d be doing for us all.”
    “Molly, do you think she’ll be—”
    “Hush, you. Don’t you even think anything else. What would happen to the lot of us without her? Of course she’ll be all right. She’ll be returned to us. And look at you, shaking like a leaf. What are you doing up all night, worrying about everyone else and not taking a lick of care of yourself?”
    I couldn’t answer. I drank some more water instead.
    “He knows what’s best,” she said. I thought she was talking about God again, our Lord, but when she stopped talking, all there was besides the whir of the air conditioner was the wheezy sound of Dashiell snoring, and I knew that Dashiell was the he she’d been referring to because she was laying me down in her bed, still warm from her body, and pulling the blanket over me. I thought I should be asking her where she would sleep, but I don’t think I did. All I remember was the sensation of going backward, as if I were falling in my sleep.
    When I opened my eyes, I could see the little room, neat as the dollhouse of an obsessive-compulsive child, light coming in from the windows washing over the pale blue cotton blanket that covered me. There was a small bureau covered with framed photographs opposite the bed, a rocking chair with a small table and a lamp in the comer, and not an article of clothing or a scrap of paper anywhere to be seen.
    I lay there for a moment, just gathering my thoughts, and when I stretched my arms and legs, I felt something large and warm at the end of the bed. Molly wasn’t here with me, but Dashiell was.
    I pushed the blanket back, saw my shoes lined up next to the bed, and, ignoring them for the moment, walked over to the bureau in my stocking feet to look at Molly’s photo collection, which turned out to be pictures of the boys: Nathan graduating from college, holding his diploma and looking straight at the camera, Nathan the serious; and Samuel, his eyes closed, his brow covered in sweat, leading an orchestra, or more likely, a small band of developmentally disadvantaged singers. Samuel with rabbit ears?
    I took the photo with me and turned on the lamp as the door opened and Molly appeared, still in her robe, holding a tray of food.
    “I thought you might be hungry,” she said.
    “Where did you sleep?”
    “On the couch in Venus’s office. It’s very comfortable, and there’s a blanket and pillow in the cabinet because sometimes Venus stays over. You’re not to worry about putting me out, Rachel. I was fine, and I’m glad you didn’t go back out in the night at that hour. It’s not safe out there.”
    It’s not safe in here, either, I thought as Molly turned to put the tray down in the middle of the bed.
    “Come and sit here with me. We’ll have some tea. Do you feel a bit better, child?”
    The photo still in my hand, I walked over and sat at the foot of the bed, next to Dashiell, who hadn’t gotten up.
    “I’m sorry about this. He does it at home, so—”
    “You’ve nothing to apologize for, neither one of you. It’s where Lady slept, and no doubt he knew that. She slept right where Dashiell is, keeping my feet warm, the dear thing.”
    Molly sat at the head of the bed. The tray was between us. I thought she’d pour the tea, but suddenly her face screwed up, and she was reaching under her hip, fishing around, and then pulling something out she’d sat on, holding it up so that the light of the lamp made it glitter and shine.
    “What’s this?” she asked.
    For a moment, I froze.
    Clearly, it hadn’t been in Molly’s bed before I’d spent part of the night there.
    But had she ever seen it on Venus?
    There was only one way to go with this, I thought, leaving the necklace in Molly’s hand instead of reaching for it. Instead, I looked down at the tray, then poured a cup of tea.
    “Is this yours?” she asked.
    “No,” I told her. There was no cream or sugar on the tray, so I held out the cup of black tea, meeting her eyes now. “It belongs to Venus.”
    “Is that so?” she asked, taking the heart between two fingers and turning it over. “It’s hers, Venus’s, you say?”
    “That’s right.”
    Molly looked up at me, still holding the diamond heart, the chain dangling down from her hand, the cup of tea between us in my outstretched hand.
    “It’s very much like one Mrs. Dietrich had.”
    I put down the cup and