WC? Where in the world did they stil refer to bathrooms as water closets?

Ruby folowed me in, placed my satchel on the bed, and began fluffing pilows and lowering shades like a belman at the Ritz.

The fabric and walpaper explained the floral appelation. The window was draped, the tables skirted, and ruffles adorned every edge in the room. The maple rocker and bed were stacked with pilows, and a milion figurines filed a glass-fronted cabinet. On top sat ceramic renderings of Little Orphan Annie and her dog, Sandy, Shirley Temple dressed as Heidi, and a colie I assumed to be Lassie.

My taste in home furnishings tends toward the simple. Though I have never cared for the starkness of modern, give me Shaker or Hepplewhite and I am happy. Surround me with clutter and I start to get itchy.

'It's lovely,' I said.

'I'l leave you to yourself now. Dinner's at six, so you missed that, but I left stew to simmerin'. Would you like a bowl?'

'No, thank you. I'm going to turn in.'

'Have you eaten dinner?'

'I'm not very hungr—'

'Look at you, you're thin as the broth at a homeless shelter. You can't go with nothin' on your stomach.'

Why was everyone so concerned with my diet?

'I'l bring up a tray.'

'Thank you, Ruby.'

'I don't need thankin'. One last thing. We've got no locks here at High Ridge House, so you come and go as you like.'

Though I'd showered at the site, I unpacked my few things and took a long, hot bath. Like rape victims, those who clean up after mass fatalities often overbathe, driven by a need to purge mind and body.

I came out of the bathroom to stew, brown bread, and a mug of milk. My cel phone rang as I was poking at a turnip. Fearing the messaging service would kick in, I lunged for my purse, dumped its contents onto the bed, and fished through hair spray, walet, passport, organizer, sunglasses, keys, and makeup. I finaly found the phone and clicked on, praying the caler was Katy.

It was. My daughter's voice triggered such emotion in me, I had to struggle to keep my voice steady.

Though evasive about her whereabouts, she sounded happy and healthy. I gave her the number at High Ridge House. She told me she was with a friend and would return to Charlottesvile on Sunday night. I didn't request, nor did she offer, the gender specifics of her pal.

The soap and water, combined with the long-awaited cal from my daughter, had done the trick. Almost giddy with relief, I was suddenly famished. I devoured Ruby's stew, set my travel alarm, and fel into bed.

Maybe the House of Chintz wouldn't be so bad.

===OO=OOO=OO===