“Yes. Cousin Thorn needs a home in New York for his butler school. It would be the perfect spot. Then we, along with dear cousin, will help bring about a return of class to New York City. Thanks to Thorn’s school, good butlers will once again be available. Unfortunately that profession has suffered a sad decline. That needs to be changed.”

“We need a butler ourselves.”

“It’s so hard to keep help. They always leave. But we will have first dibs on Thorn’s graduates and, of course, hire the best one. As you know, Thorn will be arriving late tonight.”

“The guest bedroom is prepared.”

“Tomorrow night we will dine here with Thorn and toast not only the destruction of the Settlers’ Club as their party fails miserably, but also the demise of Maldwin Feckles’s butler school, which is a disgrace to every self-respecting butler.”

Vernella giggled, something she rarely did. “I wish it stayed light longer,” she said. “We could get our binoculars out.”

“You are a devil,” Archibald said as he grabbed her bony hand. “You are the devil I fell in love with.”

“Oh, Archie,” Vernella said coquettishly. “I’m not a devil. I’ve been saying my prayers.”

“And just what have you been praying for?”

“Just that the party tomorrow night over there”—she pointed with disgust at the Settlers’ Club—“is a complete and utter disaster.”

Archibald clapped his hands. “This is going to be such fun.”

35

When Clara got home from her day of scrubbing the Settlers’ Club, she was so darn glad she couldn’t believe it. I’m going to get out of this uniform and put on my robe, she thought as she unlocked the door to her apartment in Queens. It had been some day. Here I was trying to help, and Thomas goes crazy when I show him the red box. She shrugged as she took off her coat.

Maybe I’ll take a bath, she thought, but then remembered Nat’s fate. Probably not a good idea, she decided as she went into the bedroom, undressed, and put on the fleece-lined bathrobe her sister had given her for Christmas.

“That’s better,” she said aloud. She pulled open a drawer and grabbed a pair of her woolly socks. “Now I’ll be all comfy and cozy.”

In the kitchen, she heated up some chow mein and poured herself a glass of wine. She carried a tray into the living room, sat down in her favorite chair, put her feet up on the hassock, and turned on the television with the remote control.

“Thank God it’s the weekend,” she said to the weatherman who was reporting on possible snow showers for the next couple of days. “I don’t care what the weather’s going to be, because I’m just going to veg out.”

She gobbled her chow mein and downed the glass of wine.