A Drowned Maiden's Hair_ A Melodrama - Laura Amy Schlitz [64]
“Um,” said Maud. One of her knees was touching Hyacinth’s side. Stealthily she drew it back. “I wish they wouldn’t cry.”
“Dear Maud, they all cry.” Hyacinth threw up her hands in comic despair. “We go to such trouble to make them happy, but they always cry. One simply has to get used to it. It’s their money, after all. If Eleanor Lambert’s willing to pay five thousand dollars to cry all over you, who are we to judge?”
Maud took another spoonful of ice cream, dribbling it down her front. “Five thousand dollars is a lot of money.”
Hyacinth gave a low laugh. “Dear Maud! Did Victoria get at you before she left?”
Maud hesitated. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Of course you do. She told you we were wrong to take the money, didn’t she?”
Maud risked a glance at Hyacinth and saw that her eyes were dancing. “She said something like that.”
“Of course she did. Now, listen to me.” Hyacinth leaned forward and touched Maud’s cheek, guaranteeing her attention. “If Eleanor Lambert wanted to know that her daughter was dead, who would tell her so?”
“Most anybody, I guess.”
“Exactly so. The doctor. The undertaker. Anyone. She could have the truth for free. But Eleanor Lambert isn’t in the market for truth, and she’s not in the market for religion, either. Any minister worth his salt would tell her she would see her daughter in heaven. But Eleanor Lambert doesn’t want to see her daughter in heaven. She wants her now. Do you follow me, Maud?”
Maud nodded.
“In short, she wants to resurrect the dead — which is impossible. And the impossible is bound to be expensive. Why, look at the money we’ve spent! Your white dress, the glockenspiel, the Ouija board, the wig — not to mention the amount of time we’ve spent working to perfect the illusions. Do you really think, Maud, that we could afford to do all this for nothing?”
“No.” Maud had a sense that Hyacinth’s reasoning was faulty in some way, but she had no further desire to argue. “When she pays us, may I have a new book?” She was frightened to hear herself say the words, but Hyacinth rewarded her with the sweetest of smiles.
“You shall have a dozen new books,” she assured Maud, “and a new dress — and enough ice cream to sink a ship. There! Are you satisfied?”
“Yes,” Maud said, happily, guiltily.
“Then kiss me good night.” Hyacinth lowered her cheek. “And finish your ice cream and go to sleep. You’ve done a good night’s work.”
The following night, Maud stole from the house to play on the shore. The ocean was rough after the storm. Even Maud, who had seen it only twice before, could see the change. The foam from the shallow breakers splashed her to the waist. Maud rejoiced. An evening of freedom stretched before her. Hyacinth and Judith were dining out — Muffet had gone off with her spade and her basket — Maud had escaped. The only flaw in her happiness was that she had little hope of riding the merry-go-round. Last night’s thunderstorm had cooled the air, and tourists thronged the boardwalk, enjoying the breeze and the sunset. The amusement park would be crowded.
Still, there was the ocean. For the first hour, Maud played tag with the waves. Then she settled down to make a sand castle. A large shell served as a spade, and she scooped and patted until she had achieved three mounds of diminishing size, one on top of the other. She clawed a circular moat around this structure and was charmed when the water welled up beneath her fingernails. She had not known there was water under the sand. A vision dazzled her: a complex city of castles and canals. On her hands and knees, she dug for it, not looking up till the air was dim.
Night was falling. Maud sighed and rose to her feet, brushing her dress. A moist crust of sand coated everything — dress, fingers, toes, and knees. The sand had even infiltrated her underclothing.