and the creases in what used to be Anne’s proud neck. She felt disoriented, as if she needed to eat something immediately, and then it passed and her mother was still standing there. She had opened the door with her own hands instead of waiting for a servant to do it for her. It was nighttime but she was still in her morning gown. A tear had been badly sewn at the shoulder.
“Darling,” her mother said. She grasped Clara’s arms, kissed the air at her cheeks—one side, the other—and then vanished in a cloud of perfume and blush tulle.
Clara felt a pressure on her arm, Max shoring her up. “I’ll come by tomorrow to see how you’re getting on.”
“Where are you going?” She suddenly didn’t want to be alone with this unfamiliar woman whom she hadn’t spoken to in nearly two years. “Stay, Max.”
“She won’t want me here. You don’t want me here either.”
“Warm up a little. Maybe she has food.”
They entered the small foyer where a coat and hat hung on the wardrobe, two pairs of shoes on a mat beneath. It was so common a scene, Clara assumed these were the servants’ things. She doubted her mother had ever lived without one. But then she passed into the parlor, an impossible jumble of furniture no maid would tolerate. Her leg bumped the arm of a settee, teak, draped with indigo cloth. That was from the winter garden at Falkenhorst. The cloth and the fan on the wall were relics from Anne’s childhood in India. Near the stove hung a picture that made Clara smile, the framed sketch of the bird Papa had drawn for her when she was a girl. By the settee was an ottoman, then a teak chair, and then the statue of Artemis Clara also recognized from the house’s park. She wondered how on earth her mother had gotten it here, and why. Between all the furniture, there was hardly room to move.
“So it is true,” Anne said. She faced the tall window—it had glass in it, a luxury—and her hands were flat on the sill. “You’ve come back, darling.”
“It’s good to see you too, Mother.”
“Is it? Is it really?” Anne turned enough to show her profile, one of the over-the-shoulder looks that used to make young men shoot themselves to get her attention, or so her mother used to tell it. When Papa proposed to her, he’d set a pistol on the table between them and said he would point it at his heart and pull the trigger if she refused him. This was unacceptable to Anne, of course, until he admitted with one of his secret smiles that it had no bullets. This convinced her mother he was the one. Handsome men willing to maim themselves for love were ten a penny. But a man who wasn’t a complete fool? Priceless.
“I know, darling. I’m an old hag.”
“Of course not, Mother.”
“You’re a dear to say it, but don’t lie to me. Herr Hecht brought you here, and for that I thank him”—she gave him a curt nod—“and now he may go.”
“He needs to rest. He hasn’t eaten.”
“Clara,” Max said, “it’s all right.”
“You see? He’s got a home of his own, darling. He doesn’t need to loiter in mine.”
“He’s a guest in your house, Mother. Where are your manners?”
“Where are yours? In the old days you wouldn’t have dared to bring him home. You knew his place.”
“Times have changed.”
Max put his hat on. “I’m going. I’ll check on you tomorrow, Clara.”
“Don’t bother, Herr Hecht. She’s in good hands now.”
Clara saw him to the door, a small gesture of thanks for his help. On the threshold, he took her hand. “I’ll see you soon. There’s so much I need to tell you.” He glanced uneasily toward the room where her mother was. “Good luck. Don’t let her get to you.”
Back in the parlor, Anne was banging into the furniture, almost knocking over the potted palm on her way to the little burn-all stove. A hole had been knocked into the wall for the flue, and badly plastered. Anne glared at it, and then down at her hands. She rubbed them over the weak heat given off by the stove. The bucket on the floor was empty except for black dust and some splinters.
“Don’t you have coal?” Clara asked.
“They’ll deliver it tomorrow, darling. It’s warm enough.”
Clara noticed that Anne wore a thick sweater and trousers under the morning gown, which partly explained the clumsy way she moved,