I had removed any trace of Piper from the apartment, throwing out anything she had left behind, fearing she had somehow contaminated it. I still waited anxiously as Clara inspected the bedroom, the kitchen, the living room, and the bathroom.
“I think it will do,” she concluded.
I told her the rent and the deposit and showed her the only utility bills I had.
“Very good.” She sat at the kitchen table and crossed her legs. “Now, tell me about yourself. I don’t want to move in with some Mary Ann Cotton,” she said.
I laughed, but I was impressed. “You know who Mary Ann Cotton was?”
“One of your country’s most infamous female serial killers, a sort of black widow, right?”
“They believe she killed three of four husbands, yes.”
She finally smiled. I sat and told her more about myself in a half hour than I had told Piper the whole time we were together. She then took out her checkbook and wrote the total amount needed to move in with me.
“Most everything I have is already packed,” she said. “I have a car service to help bring my things over here.” She looked at her watch. “Let’s say by five?”
“That’s fine.” I fetched Piper’s key from the shelf by the door and handed it to her. “I have to be at the restaurant, but you can do whatever you have to and check the food in the cupboard and fridge to see what you want. I’ll be home at eleven tonight.”
“Very good, Emma. Thank you.”
Oh, no, thank you, I wanted to say, but I was determined not to sound desperate. She left, and when I was ready to go to work, I stopped at Mr. Abbot’s and told him about Clara and how she had written out the check for half the deposit as well as her month’s share of the rent.
“Knock again when you deposit the check into your account and it goes all right,” he cautioned.
New Yorkers, I thought. They were born with distrust and probably eyed their mothers with caution.
But even after the short time I had been here, I couldn’t really blame them. It just wasn’t who I was when I had arrived. I couldn’t help but wonder if it would soon be who I was when and if I left. Failure can change you in ways you least expect. For other reasons, I might be afraid to look in the mirror. Why and when? I wondered.
I knew the answer would come flying at me. I just didn’t realize how quickly.
SEVEN
Fall came, and the number of auditions diminished significantly as New York theater started its full-blown season. Even auditions for the smaller productions off-Broadway were few and far between, but that didn’t result in my getting to know my new roommate better. Because of our work schedules, mainly mine, Clara and I didn’t spend all that much time together. She had weekends off. I envied her for that, but more than ever now, I wanted to work seven days a week, because I had to earn the money for more than rent, utilities, food, and other basic necessities. I needed new clothes and nice shoes. How do you walk past all the wonderful department-store showcases and not think of something new and pretty for yourself?
New York had an earlier snowfall than usual that year, too. Colder weather was on the horizon. I needed even warmer clothes and boot shoes to walk the streets. All the other waitresses were coming to work in their fall and winter things, and I was still wearing clothes I had brought with me from England. One girl, Lillian Thomas, even offered me some of her clothes she was replacing. I could feel my face burn with embarrassment.
“Thank you. I just haven’t had the time to shop,” I told her. “I will soon.”
Whenever Clara and I did spend time together, I could see it was on the tip of her tongue to ask me why I wasn’t wearing warmer things, different articles of clothing. I suspected she had gone into my room and inspected my wardrobe one day or evening when I was at work. Yet she said nothing that might embarrass me.
One late afternoon when I returned from work, I found a package at the door. It had no return address or any stamps to give away its origin. “EMMA” had been typed on a label pasted to the front of it. I took it in, went to