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beautiful car. This is a 1961 Rolls-Royce Silver Cloud.”
    “I’ve never even seen one of these before.”
    “Not surprising, as there are no more than a handful in the entire country, and this is the only one I know of between Montreal and Toronto.”
    “It’s just beautiful.” I ran my hand along the wooden dashboard.
    “Walnut. The best of the best in everything is almost the Remington family motto.” He put the car in gear and we glided away. “It is the epitome of elegance, luxury and good breeding.”
    “I like the thing on the hood,” I said, gesturing to the ornament at the end of the very, very long hood.
    “She is referred to as the Spirit of Ecstasy, the Silver Lady or the Flying Lady.”
    “She’s beautiful too.”
    “She should be, since she’s worth more than many of the cars on the road. Those in the know simply refer to her as Emily.”
    That made me laugh. “Hello, Emily,” I said and waved at her.
    “You have a fine laugh,” he said. “It reminds me of somebody…I’m not sure who…but it does seem familiar.”
    As we moved slowly down a main street, I noticed that people on the street and drivers in other cars turned to look.
    “Obviously, you don’t know anything about the family you’ll be working for,” James said.
    I shook my head. “Nothing, nothing at all.”
    “The lady of the house is Mrs. Remington. You can refer to her as either Ma’am or Mrs. Remington. She is in her early seventies. Unlike her departed husband, who could politely be described as impolite, she is a true lady. She treats her staff with respect and dignity.” He paused. “She is well liked and respected by all the staff.”
    “How many staff are there?”
    “There is, of course, myself, and the gardener, a cook and the maid.”
    “I thought I was hired to be the maid.”
    “Believe me, there is enough house to need two maids,” he said. “Besides, Mrs. Meyers is more the head of staff than simply the maid.”
    “But do you really need all of those people for one person?”
    “The house is also home to her son, Richard Junior.”
    “How old is he?” I asked.
    “Depends on how you mean that,” he said.
    How many ways could I mean that?
    “He’s got to be close to forty years old,” James said, “but up here”—he tapped the side of his head—“he’s a bit, shall we say, special .”
    An uneasy feeling came over me, and it must have shown.
    “But don’t worry about him. He’s friendly enough and completely harmless. He spends most of his time in the backyard in the pigeon coop.”
    The car came to a stop in front of a large metal gate. Beyond the gate, beyond the long, lush lawn, was a big white house.
    “Welcome home,” James said.

Six
    MRS. MEYERS LOOKED me up and down, and I dropped my eyes to the ground. She brushed her hands over my apron to smooth it out.
    “It seems a bit big, my dear,” she said with her strong Scottish burr.
    “Yes, ma’am, a bit big.”
    “I’ll take it in this evening, but for tonight it will have to do. I had no idea you’d be such a wee lass.”
    “Sorry, ma’am.”
    “Are you apologizing for being small?”
    “No, I mean…sort of. I didn’t mean to put you to any more work.”
    “Actually, you’re going to save me a great deal of work,” she said. “I must admit I was rather surprised when Mrs. Remington informed me that she was bringing on another servant, but many hands make light work.”
    “I’ll work as hard as I can,” I promised.
    She looked at me with a thoughtful expression. Was she questioning what I’d said?
    “You look familiar. Perhaps I’ve seen you around town.”
    “I just arrived on the train from Hope. I’ve never been here before…well, except when I was very young.”
    “Regardless, there’s something about you,” she said. “Do you see it, Nigel?”
    She turned to the cook, who was standing over the stove.
    He offered a shrug. “All maids look the same to me. I can hardly tell the two of you