with her today?
She retraced her steps, followed the trail back to High Place. When she walked into the kitchen she found Charles sweeping the floor with an old broom. Noemí smiled in greeting. Just then, Florence walked in. She wore a gray dress, a double strand of pearls and her hair up. When she caught sight of Noemí she clasped her hands together.
“Finally, there you are. Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you.” Florence frowned, glancing down. “You’re trailing mud inside. Take off those shoes.”
“I’m sorry,” Noemí said, looking down at her high heels, which were crusted with dirt and blades of grass. She took them off, holding them in her hands.
“Charles, take those and clean them,” Florence ordered the man.
“I can do it. It’s no problem.”
“Let him.”
Charles put the broom aside and walked toward her, extending his hands. “Miss,” he said, the one word.
“Oh,” Noemí replied and handed him the shoes. He took them, grabbed a brush that lay upon a shelf, and sat on a stool in the corner of the room and began brushing the dirt off her high heels.
“Your cousin was asking for you,” Florence said.
“Is she all right?” Noemí asked, immediately worried.
“She’s fine. She was bored and wanted to converse with you.”
“I can go upstairs right away,” Noemí said, her stockinged feet moving quickly against the cold floor.
“There’s no need for that,” Florence said. “She’s taking her nap now.”
Noemí had already stepped into the hallway. She looked back at Florence, who was walking toward her, and shrugged. “Perhaps you could go up later?”
“Yes, I will,” Noemí said, but she felt deflated and a little bad for not having been around when Catalina wanted her.
10
In the mornings Florence or one of the maids came by to deliver Noemí’s breakfast tray. She had tried to converse with the maids, but they did not offer anything but curt yeses and nos to Noemí. In fact, when she encountered any of the staff of High Place—Lizzie or Charles or the eldest of the three servants, Mary—they inclined their head and kept walking, as if they were pretending Noemí did not exist.
The house, so quiet, with its curtains drawn, was like a dress lined with lead. Everything was heavy, even the air, and a musty scent lingered along the hallways. It felt almost as if it were a temple, a church, where one must speak in low voices and genuflect, and she supposed the servants had acclimatized to this environment and therefore tiptoed along the staircase, unwilling nuns who had made vows of silence.
That morning, however, the quiet routine of Mary or Florence knocking a single time, walking in, and setting her tray on a table was interrupted. There were three knocks, three soft rapping noises. No one walked in, and when the knocks were repeated Noemí opened the door to find Francis there, bearing her tray.
“Good morning,” he said.
He quite surprised her. She smiled. “Hello. Are you short staffed today?”
“I offered to help my mother deliver this, since she’s busy seeing about Great Uncle Howard. He’s had pain in his leg last night, and when he does he’s in a foul mood. Where should I set it down?”
“Over there,” Noemí said, stepping aside and pointing at the table.
Francis carefully set the tray down. Afterward he slid his hands into his pockets and cleared his throat.
“I was wondering if you’d be interested in looking at those spore prints today. If you have nothing better to do, that is.”
This was a great chance for Noemí to ask him for a ride, she thought. A bit of socializing and he was sure to do as she said. She needed to go into town.
“Let me talk to my secretary. I have a very full social agenda,” Noemí replied cheekily.
He smiled. “Should we meet in the library? In, say, an hour?”
“Very well.”
* * *
—
It was close to a social outing, this trek to the library, and it invigorated her, for she was an eager social creature. Noemí changed into a polka-dot day dress with a square neck. She had misplaced the matching bolero jacket and really she ought to have been wearing white gloves with it, but their location being what it was, it was not as if a little faux pas like that would be noticed and make it into the society pages.
As she brushed her hair she wondered what everyone was up to back in the city. No doubt her brother was still behaving like a baby with