sleep?â
âGood question.â I thought for a moment, tapping the letter absent-mindedly on my cheek. I certainly wasnât going to move in with Jack Donovan, even if the staff could scrounge up a bundling board somewhere. âWeâll give Washington the best bedroom, no question about that. Jack will have Melodyâs room. That means that Melody will bunk with me, on the trundle bed.â Just thinking about playing âmusical bedsâ made me tired. âIâll have to tell French. We need to make sure we have clean sheets.
âFounding Father also reminds me, in case Iâd forgotten, that todayâs market day. The vendors are expecting us; Iâm to pay a visit to the Maryland Table stall. Oh, Amy! Do you think I can get out of it? I
hate
the idea of going out in this rain. Call me cynical, but I think the producers planned it on purpose.â
âPlanned what?â Amy wanted to know as she tipped the tea kettle over the wash basin.
âThis evil weather. I can just hear them thinking, what could be better than to send Hannah to market on a rainy day? Watch how she ruins her shoes.â
âYou should wear your pattens,â Amy suggested.
Iâd tried out the pattens, a kind of high-heeled wooden clog that strapped over your shoes and supposedly kept your shoes and the hems of your skirts dry. But after
clack-clack-clacking
around the house in a pair of them, teetering like a drunk, I decided to give them a pass.
âYour waterâs ready, Hannah,â Amy reminded me. âBest to use it before it gets cold.â
I dipped the flannel in the water, wrung it out and pressed the warm cloth to my face, being careful not to drip water on my dress.
Note to self. Wash first. Dress second
. After a moment, I said, âKaren will be accompanying me, of course, but it doesnât say anything in the letter about not taking my maid along.â I draped the damp cloth over the rim of the bowl. âWould you like to come, too? Get soaked along with me?â
Amy drifted to the window, pressed her forehead against the glass. âI admit it would be a relief to get out of the house. Melody is driving me crazy with all her mooning over some pimply-faced cowboy named Tim back in Texas. Theyâve only been separated for a couple of weeks, but youâd think it was a year.â
âDonât be too hard on her. I remember being crazy in love at her age. When my father got transferred to San Diego from Norfolk, I thought I was going to die. Iâm still crazy in love, believe it or not, and Paul and I have been married for more years than I care to count. If you look to the far right, you can almost see my house from here, but Paul might as well be on the other side of the moon.â
âAt least youâll get to see Paul again . . .â Amyâs voice broke.
âAmy, I know what you told me earlier, but I can tell youâre not over it.â
She flapped a hand in front of her face. âNo, no, Iâm all right.â
But I didnât believe her, not for a minute.
After I sat down at the breakfast table, I shared the news about George Washingtonâs visit with Jack. I thought heâd be delighted, or nervous, or apprehensive . . . something, but from behind a facsimile copy of the
Maryland Gazette
, he merely grunted. Melody looked bored, and Gabe was busily sawing his cinnamon toast into skinny, one-inch rectangles called soldiers. I wondered what the latest news was on Katherineâs condition, but decided that now wasnât the best time to inquire.
As heâd spent the night on the trundle in Michaelâs room, I had expected the dancing master to be joining us for breakfast, but his chair at the table sat empty. âWhereâs Alex?â I asked.
Michael scooped some melon out with his spoon. âHe ate earlier in the kitchen. He said he had to go over to Brice House to check out the ballroom.
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