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groaned under the weight of her mother’s mirror. As it was being uncrated, she dithered and fretted and drove the workmen nearly mad with her impatience to see if it had come through the move intact.
    “Thank God,“ she said, when it was finally free of the quilted pads.
    Mrs. Smith had been watching the process from the doorway. “That’s so beautiful,“ she said. “Like something you see in them fancy museums. What’s in these trunks?“
    “We’ll open them in a minute,“ Lily said, tipping the workmen generously to make up for her annoying behavior, then fished around in her handbag for the keys to the trunks.
    She thought for a second that Mrs. Smith was going to faint when the first trunk was opened and an apricot silk ball gown was revealed. Mimi slapped both hands over her mouth and tried to muffle a scream of appreciation. After a few gasps, she said, “Oh, Miss Brewster, Miss Brewster! That’s purely the most beautiful frock I ever did see. I’d be afraid to even touch something so pretty.”
    Lily lifted the dress out, put it on the bed and hunted down the tissue-wrapped slippers, long gloves and evening bag that had been specially made to match it. “The last time I wore this,“ she said, “was the night Dickie VanBuren proposed to me and acted like he was going to cry when I turned him down. I wonder what’s become of him.“
    “I’m surprised every man in the room didn’t propose to you,“ Mrs. Smith said. “You musta been beautiful in this dress.”
    Lily smiled. “I think I was, Mrs. Smith. Now it would hang on me as if it were on a coat hanger. I’ve lost so much weight.”
    The older woman frowned. “If you wouldn’t mind, Miss Brewster, I’d rather you just called me Mimi, like everybody else does. I don’t much like being called Mrs. Smith.“
    “Oh... I see. All right, Mimi.“
    “It’s just that Mr. Smith—Billy Smith, that is—isn’t really my husband. Well, he is, far as the law’s concerned, but we don’t get along. Not since—well, never mind that. Now, how are we going to take care of this dress until Mrs. Prinney fattens you up?”
    Lily was stymied. “I have no idea. It’s a bit wrinkled, but I don’t think it can be ironed since it’s silk. Steamed, maybe?”
    Mimi studied the ball gown, frowning. “Might not be good for it. I’ll ask Mrs. Prinney.”
    Suddenly Lily realized how ironic their conversation was. Mimi had never seen a silk ball gown and Lily herself had never wondered how the servants took care of one. They were both approaching the problem with utter ignorance. Somehow, she found this oddly comforting.
    They unpacked the rest of the clothing and hung it all in a cedar closet down the hall—a closet that was larger than the entire New York apartment she and Robert had shared. Two of the day dresses had been a bit large on Lily to begin with and would probably never fit her again. She gave them to Mimi, who was about Lily’s height, and a bit heavier. Thrilled, Mimi went off to show Mrs. Prinney her new navy and white suit dress and full-skirted floral cotton shirtwaist.
    Lily unpacked her smaller trunk, which contained more personal items. Several expensive, uncomfortable corselettes, a selection of satin slips, silk camisoles and nightgowns with hundreds of tiny tucks. Her childhood diaries were in this trunk, as well as school papers, party invitations, graduation certificates, a few love letters she’d received from smitten adolescent admirers and family pictures. Lily took out the clothing, put it away in drawers and left the rest of her past in the trunk, which she stuck way back in the closet where she wouldn’t run across it very often.
     
    Dinner was lovely. Lily wore a slinky red skirt and a red and white silk polka-dot blouse she’d always loved. Robert wore his summer whites and lacked only a boater hat and tennis racket to look thoroughly sporty. Mrs. Prinney had cooked a wonderful meal of Yankee pot roast with potatoes and