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dear. And so proud.” Mama dipped the plate she’d scrubbed into the rinse bowl, then handed it to Tillie.
    “I want this position so bad, Mama.”
    “And I think you have every chance of getting it.”
    “I don’t know.” Tillie ran a drying cloth across the plate. “Lucy has a leg up after what happened to me in the carriage.”
    “Perhaps. But think of all the hours, days, years, even, that we’ve put into preparing you for this very thing.”
    Tillie contemplated the number of books she’d read, the perfection her mother had demanded from her needle, the laborious hours she’d spent dressing and redressing Mama’s hair, along with the lessons she’d received on concocting herbal remedies and cosmetics.
    “Lucy may have a leg up,” Mama continued, “but when Mrs. Vanderbilt asks for Corfe’s edition of Handel, I wouldn’t put it past her to go searching for a coarse dish with a handle.”
    Tillie snorted.
    Removing her hands from the water, Mama dried them on her apron, then clasped Tillie’s within both of hers. “It is a rare, rare opportunity you’ve been given and likely the only one you’ll ever have. Don’t you see? This is it, Tillie. This is your dream. Your chance. You mustn’t squander it.”
    “I won’t.”
    “You must be cheerful even when they expect long hours. Discreet when you overhear gossip. Tolerant when Mr. Vanderbilt invades his bride’s domain. And virtuous when upper menservants come sniffing about you.”
    “I will.”
    “You must not blush or lose your composure when you perform intimate services for Mrs. Vanderbilt that women of lesser stations would be too modest to have done for them.”
    Even as she spoke, her mother blushed and they both thought of the lessons Tillie had been taught by doing for her mother what she would one day do for Mrs. Vanderbilt if she were to win the position of lady’s maid. Services which became so frequent as to no longer embarrass Tillie, though clearly they still discomfited her mother.
    Mama’s eyes teared. “When I think of all our hard work and how badly I’ve wanted this. Now, here you are, on the precipice of living out the dream we’ve been clinging to. Think of the life you’ll have. So much better than mine or your father’s.”
    Tillie squeezed her hands. “I know. And I can’t thank you enough, Mama. Now, don’t you worry. I won’t let you down.”
    Swallowing, Mama withdrew her hands, swiped her eyes with the corner of her apron, then returned to the dishes.
    Tillie stacked the plates inside the cabinet, her resolve solidifying. No matter what it took, she must secure the coveted position. Failure was not an option.

CHAPTER
Five
    The sun swelled over the horizon, streaking the dawn skies with orange, pink, and purple. Mack hiked up Biltmore’s approach road with nothing but a pocketknife and a three-inch money belt strapped beneath his shirt.
    It wasn’t full enough, though. Not nearly enough. He’d asked the steward of Battery Park Hotel for an increase in pay, but the man had scoffed.
    “Then I quit,” Mack had said. “I’ll work at Biltmore.”
    “Biltmore? They’ll throw you out the minute they see you.”
    “We’ll see.”
    The steward had curled his lip. “You leave now and you’ll never work at my hotel again or anywhere else in this town.”
    Mack had no doubt the man would make good on his threat. Which meant he had to make this work. At least until he could earn enough to get Ora Lou out from under Sloop’s roof.
    Pine, rhododendron, and hemlock opened up onto a pond dusted with fallen pink blossoms. He’d heard Vanderbilt had hired some fancy-pants fellow from New York to rearrange the landscape surrounding this three-mile carriage road. The thought was ludicrous. How could some Yankee improve upon what God had already put in place? But despite himself, Mack was impressed. Around every bend the countryside offered a view which was nothing short of stunning.
    Crossing a rustic bridge, he