“Well, it wouldn’t be fair really.”
“What wouldn’t be fair?”
“If you got to tell all the Emilys.”
He nodded. “I hadn’t thought of it that way. So you’ve seen the lake?”
“I have.”
“And you know what it’s called?”
“Tom Lake,” I said. “But that’s a guess.”
He smiled again, showing off the wonkiness of his size XL teeth. I’d been told that wonky teeth, like unpierced ears, were valuable human relics from another time. “Excellent guess!” He gave a single clap. “The lake does have an official name, the name they put on maps and watertable records, but that’s no concern of ours.”
“I wouldn’t think so.”
“What you need to know is that all this land was once owned by a very wealthy family, Vanderbilts of some sort, though I’m not sure what sort. Railroad money, oil money, money money—you know the type.”
I gave a slight nod, though I didn’t know the type from Adam.
“They spent their summers here, or a very small part of their summers, the part when they weren’t on a ship or in Scotland. They had a castle in Scotland, which isn’t quite as impressive as it sounds because you frankly can’t swing a cat without hitting a castle in Scotland. The many children were overseen by many Scottish nannies. I should tell you that these were the friendly ones. Scottish nannies get a terrible rap.”
“They do.” I sat down on the windowsill, thinking this might be a long one.
He stopped. “Would you not do that, please?”
“What?”
“The windowsill. Not when the window’s open.”
“Really?”
“We’ve already lost one Emily.”
“She didn’t fall out the window.” I looked down at the ground, as if to check.
He shook his head and pointed to the corner of the room.
“Isn’t that a nice chair?”
I was sorry to give up the view but went and pulled over the chair nevertheless.
“Thank you,” he said.
“What about you?” The room lacked a second chair, and the windowsill was out, and I didn’t feel like offering him the bed.
“I’m a stander by nature. I do better standing.”
“Okay.”
“Where was I?”
“Scottish nannies.” Such a big, goofy smile, I thought. A movie star’s smile.
He stopped again. “You’re a wonderful listener.”
“Thank you,” I said. “Occupational hazard.”
