Page 22 of The Golden Spoon
There is a sound in the hall. A sharp creak in the floorboards. My throat goes dry as I wait to see if there are more. Another creak—there it is, another step, this time with the scrape of a shoe in the hallway. Someone is out there, coming closer. I panic, looking around the room for a closet or someplace else to hide. Maybe if I moved right this second, I could squeeze myself under the bed, but I find that I’m frozen in place. Another scrape of a foot coming down on the floor, and it is too late. As the footsteps grow closer and closer, I stand up, balancing on the balls of my feet, and look around the room for some sort of weapon. At the last second, I blow the lantern out and tuck myself back against the wall next to the doorframe. There is one more heavy step as the person comes to stand in the doorway. I hold my breath as the beam of a flashlight hits the back wall, bouncing around the far side of the room, reflecting against the window where I can suddenly see the outline of a person. Who is it? My heartbeat roars in my ears.
The figure steps inside, past me, shining the flashlight around the room. The beam lands on the lantern, catches the plume of smoke still rising off its wick. My pulse quickens as the flashlight spins around, hitting me in the face. I raise my arms, shielding my eyes.
“Pradyumna?” a woman’s voice asks, timidly.
She lowers the flashlight, and I can finally see her small frame. “Lottie?”
“What are you doing up here?” She sounds frightened.
“I could ask you the same question,” I say. She stays near the door, looking as though she is ready to flee.
“I’m… I couldn’t sleep, so I went for a walk,” she answers tentatively.
“You really are a terrible liar, Lottie.”
She doesn’t say anything. A prick of fear dances in her eyes.
“Seems like a strange thing to be doing alone at twelve a.m.”
“Oh,doesit?” She gives me a withering look, then glances toward the door, making an invisible calculation. We are having some sort of standoff, I realize. Both of us are not where we should be in the middle of the night.
“Point taken.” I step back, sink once again onto the side of the bed, showing her that she has nothing to worry about. She can leave if she wants. I have no skin in this, no interest in getting anyone in trouble. My morals are slippery enough as it is, I wouldn’t dare impose them on anyone.
“This area is off-limits to guests,” she says, as though I wouldn’t know that based on how I got here.
“What, you think you are the only one who should get away with sneaking around because you’re old, is that it?” I ask.
“Well, shouldn’t age count for something?” She sniffs, and I can tell she is no longer afraid. “What’s that?” She gestures with the flashlight to the photograph I’d set on the bedside table.
“Just a photo I found. I think it might be Richard Grafton and his wife. Living the high life from the looks of it.” She hesitates and then reaches for it, holding it under the beam of the flashlight. I watch her mouth fall open. She sinks onto the side of the bed opposite me, clutching the photograph.
“That’s not his wife,” Lottie says, her voice wavering.
“What? How would you know that?” I ask, incredulous.
Lottie shakes her head in disbelief. “It’s my mother.”
LOTTIE
I can’t stop staring at the photo. Trying to make sense of it. My mother and Richard Grafton smiling, pressed close together. She’s wearing the dress I remember, the one I only ever saw on a hanger in her closet but never on her body. I can recall the color of the fabric, baby blue, and the feel of the damask, the stiffness and slight sheen. It’s incredible to be seeing her in it. The bodice is fitted and the skirt flairs out jauntily. Her legs are bare, shapely. Her feet clad in heels. High heels! I try to remember my mother ever wearing high heels, but all I can picture are the clunky soles of her work shoes. They look beautiful. So happy.
“Now care to tell me whatyouare doing up here? And what’s this about your mother?” Pradyumna raises an eyebrow at me. I was so stunned by the photograph I’d almost forgotten he was in the room with me.
“I’m…” I stop short. I’ve been caught, it’s true, but I can’t afford to be exposed. What if Betsy finds out and doesn’t understand? What if she sends me home? Fear grips at my heart. I’ve finally made it here. I can’t bear to think of losing this chance. God knows I won’t ever get another opportunity to come to Grafton.
“Oh, your face. You’re terrified. Lottie, relax.Please.I’m not goingto rat you out if that’s what you’re worried about,” he says, leaning back in the bed across from me. “You think I care about any of this? I’m mostly impressed that you managed to sneak in here after me like some sort of assassin.”
I exhale. I believe him. He seems honest, if a bit odd. Can I really trust him, though? Can I tell him the whole story? It might be safer to let him in on the secret than risk him taking offense. What choice do I really have? He already knows too much.
“My mother was a maid here at Grafton.”
“That’s an amazing coincidence.” Pradyumna considers this a moment. Then he sits bolt upright, planting his feet on the ground. “I’m an idiot. It’s not a coincidence, is it?”
I give my head a tiny shake.
“I knew it! I knew there was something going on with you!” He is grinning as though he’s just won a bet.
“I lived here as a child. In this room, actually. I slept where you’re sitting now. My mother was right here.” I pat the bed I’m on, feeling something stir in my chest.
