“Foxworth,” Hazel announced.

“Neal Foxworth?” Great-aunt Nettie asked after a moment of thought.

“No, Aunt Nettie. His name is Garland.”

“Foxworth Hall,” she said. “That’s the grandest mansion in Virginia, right, Hazel?”

“I never saw it myself, mind you, but I did hear a great deal about it. My, my. Will wonders never cease? Well, I should set the table,” she decided, and stood.

“I’ll help,” I said. That wasn’t something I often volunteered to do, but the prospect of yelling back and forth with my great-aunt seemed worse.

“Oh no, missy. You spend the time with your auntie. She doesn’t have many visitors at all these days. That’s why I was so happy to receive your letter.”

Before I could offer another argument, she was gone. I looked at Great-aunt Nettie. What would I tell her now? She was looking at me, but I could see she was thinking of something else.

“My husband didn’t like Neal Foxworth,” she said. She didn’t look like she was talking to me especially. It was more like someone reciting as she remembered. “He said he’d sell his mother for a silver dollar.”

“I never knew Neal Foxworth, Aunt Nettie. I know only Garland, his son.”

Her eyes seemed to click like the eyes of someone who had just woken.

“My mother had hair your color,” she said.

“Did she?”

“So did my sister, but I took after my father. My father died, you know. He fell off a horse and broke his neck. He was only twenty. My grandfather shot the horse. Granger was the horse’s name. What’s your name again?”

“Corrine,” I said.

What would happen to her if something happened to Hazel? I thought. Maybe my mother and father would look after her or see that someone did. It wasn’t a responsibility I’d want.

“Time to have our tea,” Hazel announced from the doorway, as if it were the doorway of a grand ballroom.

“Is it?” Great-aunt Nettie said. “Then come to the table with me, Rosemary,” she said, rising and holding out her hand. I looked at Hazel, who smiled and nodded. It must surely be exhausting telling Great-aunt Nettie the same things all day, I thought, and looked toward the front door.

Oh please, please, come knocking, Garland, I prayed under my breath.

I hadn’t realized how hungry I was until I began to eat. Despite her age and I was sure her failing eyesight and hearing, too, Hazel was still a very good cook. While we ate, Great-aunt Nettie often paused to stare at me, obviously trying to remember who I was every time. Hazel kept me occupied with her memories of when the house was grand and my great-uncle was still alive.

“I made fine dinner parties back then. The best of Charlottesville society came here. I know that’s hard to imagine now,” she added sadly. “You take your time enjoyin’ your youth, missy. It doesn’t last as long as we all hope it will.”