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