"Anyway, hello. Miss Wilkens," Felix said. "How are you?"
"How am I? Oh. I'm doing just fine, thank you. Thank you for asking." She looked at him, obviously just realizing who he was. "Oh, yes. you're Felix. Emma's chauffeur
." Her eyes narrowed and then widened, "Never mind how I am. How's my sister?" she followed quickly.
"She's about the same. Miss Wilkens." "Oh?"
She brought her hands to the base of her neck. She looked from him to me and then back to him.
"Does that mean she's not getting better?"
"Not yet. Miss Wilkens."
"Oh, dear. Emma will be very vexed about that. She will give her doctors a piece of her mind if she's not better soon." she added, nodding.
"Yes," Felix said, finally smiling. "She's already done that."
"Well," Great-aunt Frances said after taking a deep breath, "is that all you have, dear, those two suitcases?"
"That's all she has right now," Felix replied for me. I'll bring other things as time goes by and we see what she needs."
I could almost hear him add. "If she stays here, that is."
"No matter. There are so many, many things you can wear. I never threw anything out. Emma was always complaining to our parents about that. 'She hoards everything like a squirrel,' she cried. I even saved my first lost tooth. It's in a little box my mother gave me when it fell out of my mouth. Did you save your first tooth?"
"No," I said.
"Don't you believe in the tooth fairy?"
I smirked, thinking of how Ian would have reacted to such a question. How could she think a girl my age would still believe in the tooth fairy, especially a girl who looked as old as I did?
"No,"
"That's sad. There are so few nice things to believe in. We have to hold on to them. Here's another thing I won't ever throw away." she said, holding up her wrist to dangle the charm bracelet, "It's the first birthday gift I remember my father giving me."
I smiled, but I didn't know what to say. Grandmother Emma would certainly never wear anything a child would wear, even if it held some precious memory for her.
"Oh," she said, realizing where we were all standing to continue the discussion, "I'm sorry. I've been living alone for so long. I've forgotten my manners. Emma would have me locked in a closet, but manners are important only when you're with other people. You don't have to be polite to yourself. Well, it's time you came in. dear. It's time you came into your new home. How exciting it must be for you. Welcome," she added and stepped back.
Felix looked at me. I could see it in his face, the question: Would I just tarn and bolt for the car, or would I step into the house? I imagined he wouldn't blame me if I ran, even if it made Grandmother Emma angry.
I closed my eyes and held my breath for a moment.
"Show no fear," I imagined Ian telling me. "You're a March. You can be as strong as Grandmother Emma. Show them all right from the start."
Clutching the bag of his letters to me as if I thought they would somehow protect me from anything unpleasant, I stepped into the house.
It was like starting a new chapter in a book that had yet to be written, a book that I feared had a sad ending and certainly not an ending written by me.
2 At Great-aunt Frances's
. The only light inside the house came from the sunlight that poured either through the windows without shades or the windows with curtains that weren't drawn closed. The entryway was wide but short, with a dull brass chandelier that was missing bulbs. A wooden coat hanger stood almost in our way on our right. What looked like a man's black wool overcoat hung on it, with a black woolen hat hanging beside it. Below were a pair of old-fashioned galoshes and what looked like the left foot of a pair of men's black leather slippers. On the other side of the entryway was a mirror in a gilded frame that practically cried out for cleaning and polishing. I saw gobs of dust in the corners as well. A thin gray rug sat unevenly on the hardwood floor. It was so dirty and worn I could see the wood through the torn threads.
I was immediately taken with the odor of burned toast and bacon, but the scents smelled old, like the aromas of foods cooked days ago and trapped inside. The house did seem stuffy and dank. I wondered why all the windows weren't thrown open on such a nice day. Nancy, who wouldn't hesitate to open the windows in my and Ian's rooms, even on cloudy days, would say, "A room has to breathe fresh air once in a while. too." She made it sound as if the walls and furniture could suffocate.
Directly ahead of us and to the left was a stairway not half the width and height of the one in Grandmother Emma's mansion. It, too, had a worn gray carpet over its steps. The railing was much thinner than the beautiful balustrade Grandmother Emma took pride in. It wasn't as elaborately designed. I saw that the knob at the bottom was missing. Only a stem stuck up.
Along the corridor to the stairway and beyond were framed photographs of people I thought might be family. I was sure one was of Grandmother Emma when she graduated from college. Some were awkwardly tilted, and the one nearest to me tilted forward and looked like it was ready to fall. How could anyone walk by it and not fix it? I wondered,