ing toward the back of the house and through the veranda. Waiting
 
 a couple of minutes, they slipped out of their shoes again, tiptoeing
 
 through the hall to the narrow set of servant’s stairs hidden in the
 
 back of the house, lit only by a small, circular window. Their
 
 stockings left wet prints as they walked.
 
 Minnie cracked open the door to the second floor, check-
 
 ing that the coast was clear before waving Cora forward. They
 
 were just making their way to their room when a throat cleared
 
 behind them.
 
 Squeaking, both girls turned around to find themselves face-
 
 to-face with one of the boarders. It was the man, the one with the
 
 mustache and silver streak in his hair. Minnie could never decide
 
 if he was handsome or frightening — his face was angled and his
 
 eyes just so that they walked the line of being too unusual to be
 
 plain but too odd to be beautiful.
 
 “Well, what have we here?”
 
 he asked. “Did you two fall in
 
 the wash?”
 
 Cora deflected. “Can I help you with something, Mr. . . .”
 
 “Alden. Just Alden. It looks as though you two have been for a
 
 swim. Would your mother be happy with that, I wonder? Two
 
 girls, swimming in their clothes, doubtless in the company of
 
 those boys always lurking about here.”
 
 Minnie scowled, but he didn’t notice. He hadn’t taken his eyes
 
 off of Cora. Minnie was suddenly glad Cora was the one wrapped
 
 up in a blanket.
 
 Cora bit her lip. “It was an accident. We were just going to get
 
 cleaned up.”
 
 “Of course. No need to worry. I won’t tell your mother.” His
 
 smile got sharper, and it touched his eyes but in a way that made