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I went to the window and gazed out at the grounds. Not far off I saw a large pond. It looked like it had a dock and two rowboats tied there. From this height and distance, the water resembled a sheet of clear thin ice, so still, glittering in the sun. What a beautiful place this is, I thought. How I wished Mama could see it. Maybe someday she would.

I suddenly realized I was very hungry and hurried out, pausing before I started down the stairs. I had the strange feeling I was being watched, but when I turned and looked at the doors to the other rooms, I saw they were all shut tight. I listened for a moment and then bounced down the steps. Merilyn must have been waiting for me because the moment I rounded the stairway, I heard her say, "Finally."

I saw her disappear through a door. I felt funny and awkward just sauntering in and sitting down at the long, polished wood table by myself. A setting had been placed for me on the other end. I walked to it slowly, gazing at the large mural on the wall. It depicted a country setting with a brook and hills, animals and small cottages. There was something about it that made it seem like a faraway place. I continued to stare at it after I sat.

Merilyn came through the doorway from the kitchen carrying a silver tray upon which she had a platter of chicken salad, crackers, and small dinner rolls. She placed the tray on a server and then brought the dishes to the table.

"What would you like to drink?"

"Just water is fine," I said nodding at the pitcher already set before me.

After she set the food down, she poured a glass of water for me. Then she took a step back and waited as if she wanted to see whether or not I liked the chicken salad. I glanced at her and tasted it.

"This is very good," I said.

She didn't smile. She just turned and started back to the kitchen.

"Excuse me," I said before she left the dining room. She turned.

"Yes?"

"What is this picture?" I asked nodding at the mural.

"It's a place in England where Mr. Hudson's family lived is what I was told. Don't ask me where. I wasn't told exactly, and I wouldn't know anyway. I've never been to England:' she said and left before I could ask anything else.

After I ate, I walked through the house. There was a very formal living room with furniture that looked like it had rarely been used. All the tables were polished to the point where I could see my face reflected in the wood. There were paintings

everywhere, all the same style and period and all rather dark, I thought. Whenever the sun was blocked by a cloud, the rooms took on a melancholy gloom since there were no lamps lit and the furniture was all dark wood. Everything looked impersonal to me.

Finally, when I gazed around the office, I saw some evidence of family. There were pictures on the large oak desk. I recognized my mother and imagined that the other young woman was her infamous sister Victoria. There didn't seem to be much resemblance between them. Victoria's hair was light brown and in all the pictures cut very s

hort. Her facial features were harsh, her-nose wide, her mouth masculine. She looked to be at least four inches taller than my mother. There were only a half dozen pictures of the two of them, but in all of them, Victoria's figure was lean, almost boyish, and in all of them she barely smiled. Her eyes were deep, her expressions firm and far more serious than my mother's.

In many of the pictures there was a handsome gentleman I imagined to be my real grandfather. His jaw was nearly square and his eyes were set deeply under his wide forehead. In the pictures that included him, I could see the way he hinged the right corner of his mouth in a sort of flirtatious smile. There was only one picture of the woman who had to be my grandmother. It must have been taken when she was in her late twenties or thirties. I saw the remarkable resemblances to my mother, only she looked stronger, her eyes so focused and firm, I imagined her to be a woman with steel in her bones. In the picture her hair was in a tight chignon and she wore a beautiful diamond necklace. This was a woman who could advertise for the concept of style and elegance, I thought. What would she think of me?

The shelves of the office were filled with the classics, many bound in leather. In the far right corner there was a table with what looked like a model of a housing development, including the landscaping and streets, as well as the streetlights. It even had tiny cars and human figures placed in driveways and

walkways. At the base of the model was a metal tag with the words HUDSON ACRES carved across it. Each of the houses was different in style and architecture.

"Don't touch that!" I heard Merilyn warn from the doorway. "Mrs. Hudson don't want nobody even in here. I should have told you. She barely lets me in here to clean it. You can go anyplace else," she said.

"Oh. I didn't touch it. What is it?"

"It was Mr. Hudson's dream is all I know. Better come out of here," she added, looking terrified herself. "She'll be angry if she finds out I didn't tell you not to go in here."

"Okay," I said and left the office.

"How long have you worked for Mrs. Hudson?" I asked her.

"Just three weeks. I'd like to try to keep the job," she added, "so I'm trying not to make any mistakes or let anyone get me in trouble."

"I'm sorry," I said seeing how serious she was. "I didn't mean to get you into trouble."

She tucked in her lips.

"Why don't you go outside," she said, "it's nice outside and you'll be out of my way."

"Is Mrs. Hudson coming out at all?" I asked sharply.