“Then it’s certainly too late to get into her good graces.” Nola surveyed the scene outside, ready to sprint. To be with Lulu. “Didn’t you put that gag clause in the contract?”

“The clause isn’t half as bad as the negative publicity we’d get if we sued her for breaking it. Trying to shut up Roberta would only give her more material to chew on the air.”

Nola couldn’t stay alone with him one more second. She flung the limousine door open, rushed past the line of reporters and photographers and into the open elevator. She wanted to jab the button, but a uniformed operator blocked it. Why was he here? Like everything else in her life, there was always some glorified minion to do her bidding, making things more cumbersome. She hated it. She hated their dependency on her for their livelihood. She envied their freedom to go someplace else.

The door finally closed. Nola watched the maddeningly slow climb of the floor numbers. While Wade fitted the key in the lock, she shifted from one foot to another. As soon as the door opened, she tore toward her bedroom, through the wardrobe room where the maid was seated with two other women, sewing beads onto a dress. By the time they jumped to their feet, she was at the door to the next room where Lulu’s crib had been.

Lulu was not there.

CHAPTER 15 (1984 - 1986)

Nola held on to Jenna's hand, and the two of them skipped along the path to the old man’s house. Nola looked down at her little sister and her heart contracted with the old pain. When she had been five, she still had parents.

For two years now, Nola had lived with Jenna at Miss Helga’s, but when she went to the big house for her piano lessons, she brought Jenna along to play. Mini-Nazi always interfered for no reason other than she hated it when kids had fun. If they didn’t mess up their clothes, they wore out the rugs, or laughed too loud, or dirtied their hands. Schmutz, dirt, was Miss Helga’s favorite word. She was obsessed with washing everything: the stone path, curtains, children. After taking a shower, Nola had to submit to ear-rubbing that left her ears red and sore.

Jenna skipped over the gravel, laughing and chattering, never letting go of Nola's hand.

“Why can’t you be like this at Miss Helga’s so you don’t get punished so much?” Nola asked. It often seemed as if Jenna purposely invited Mini-Nazi’s brand of discipline that included smearing mustard on Jenna’s insolent tongue or locking her up in a closet to contemplate her disobedience.

“Don’t you hate how she checks our poo-poo?” Jenna asked, a mischievous look in her eyes. “And then she makes me eat that gross stuff.”