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“Actually, Sven, I haven’t. I’m
starving.”

“Roast and potatoes. I will call you when
ready.” He turned to the kitchen with a nod. Maura and Charles
continued sorting and packing necessities, and Jonathan realized
that this was his first taste of charity. He didn’t mind it as much
as he thought he would, as it was coming from sincere souls.

“Well,” he said, turning to Ava and pulling
her into a hug. “I guess this gives us some time to talk. There are
some things I need to tell you about today. And about tomorrow.” He
walked her to the couch, turning slightly so he could look her in
the eyes. Taking a deep breath, he began to recount the day,
omitting details about his assaults on the garbage can and
dumpster. He gave her a full description of the apartment and
location in a somber tone. He had decided to give her every detail,
so there would be no surprises tomorrow, but he spontaneously
decided to keep the fact that Victor was the owner from her for as
long as possible. She listened and maintained a neutral expression,
nodding periodically. When he was finished, there was a long
silence as she tried to picture what he described.

“Are you all right, Ava?” he asked, breaking
her concentration.

“I am.” The crackling snaps of logs in the
fireplace filled the room while they both sat deep in thought. She
asked some carefully worded questions, pausing for several moments
after his awkward, uncertain answers. Finally, she let out a heavy
sigh, closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead.

“What’s wrong, Ava?” he asked, thinking it an
absurd question.

“I was actually thinking about Arianna,” she
said suddenly. “I’m worried about her. She hasn’t been right.”

“There’s a lot about Arianna that isn't
right.”

He put his arm around her and leaned them
both back to rest on the back of the couch. He was grateful to talk
about anything other than the hovel they were about to call home,
and that Ava hadn’t fallen apart when he told her of the
conditions.

“Arianna acts on emotion and doesn’t give a
care what society deems appropriate. That’s not to say that Arianna
doesn’t enjoy shocking people because, truly, she does, and she
often acts on that. She is also the vainest creature that ever
lived. She needs to know that every living thing on earth loves her
because, truth be told, I don’t think she loves herself at all. She
has to stand apart from the crowd. She has been known to go out of
her way to make someone’s heart race or blood boil just to prove
that she can.”

“Well, how does Caleb feel about her acting
like this?”

“Everything about Arianna fascinates him.” He
shook his head in pity. “He is so completely smitten. She is most
comfortable in Paris with friends who consider themselves free from
what we consider proper behavior. Caleb told me of some of the wild
evenings they’ve had. Arianna would play cards, drink and smoke
cigars right alongside the men. She was right at home. I can
guarantee you that the hardest part of all this for her is that she
has no idea when they will be able to get back to Paris.”

“Will she be all right?” Ava asked.

“Honestly, I don’t care. It’s you I’m worried
about,” he said, touching her face, his blue eyes full of
concern.

“I’ll be all right, Jon.” She gave a brave
smile. “I’m worried about you.”

“I’ll be fine,” he said with eyes that
betrayed his lie.

Sven’s booming voice pulled them both away
from their distractions. “Dinner is served.”

Jonathan turned to Sven, Charles, and Maura.
“You will be joining us, of course.” He wasn’t asking. The three
sat down hesitantly for the first time at the same table. Charles
began to pour the wine.

Maura put her hand over her glass and
scoffed, “I’ll have none of that grape juice. Charles, fetch your
flask, so I can pour meself a proper drink.”

Charles squirmed in his seat.

“Maura,” he said nervously. “I’ve no flask in
my possession.”

“Yer a bloody lyin’ Brit. I’ve seen ye swig
it every day I’ve been in service here!” Jonathan smiled and went
to fetch the cut glass decanter of brandy from the parlor. He set
it before Maura.

“Have your fill, my dear,” he said and smiled
as her eyes lit up.

“Now that’s more like it,” she said, filling
her glass to the brim.

There was a knock at the door, quickly
followed by Caleb’s voice.

“Sorry we’re late!” he called from the
foyer.

Charles looked at Jonathan. “I forgot to
mention, sir, that Maura went over earlier and invited the others
to join us tonight.”

“No, that’s quite all right,” Jonathan
said.

Caleb, Arianna, Aryl and Claire entered the
dining room quietly and took their seats. The atmosphere was
somewhat lighter; the circle of close friends complete. It was
tempting to forget for the moment their worries and fears as they
ate, drank, and talked. Arianna, who was sitting next to Maura,
helped herself to the brandy which Maura kept protectively close to
her plate. She downed a glass and then poured another.

“We would like to return tomorrow if we could
be of some help,” Charles offered. Jonathan sighed uncomfortably
and ran his fingers through his hair.

“We’ll be leaving tomorrow. Caleb, Aryl, and
I were going to make a few trips over this evening, actually, to
get some repairs done.”

“How are you intending on transporting your
belongings, sir?”

“We’ll walk them, I suppose.”

“I hope you don’t mind, but I arranged the
use of my brother’s automobile. It is parked out back if you’d like
to make use of it until the morning,” Charles said. Jonathan was at
a loss for words; grateful yet embarrassed.

Caleb smiled and said, “That’s wonderful,
Charles. It’ll help us out a great deal.”

∞∞∞

Jonathan carefully set a blanket-covered box
into the backseat of the borrowed car. It was the last of his
secret stash of alcohol. He leaned on the car and waited for the
others. He didn’t want to leave the car unattended for fear of
theft. That new feeling of vulnerability is what caused him to push
off the back of the car and turn quickly toward the approaching
footsteps on the sidewalk. He recognized the man immediately;
Milton stopped short when he saw Jonathan.

“Milt, how are you?” Jonathan asked, somewhat
reserved, wondering how Milt had fared the last week.

“Jonathan. I’m okay. You?” he replied
tentatively, knowing exactly how Jonathan had fared.

“I’ve been better.” He cast his eyes down and
scuffed the concrete with his shoe. “It’s been a rough week. How’d
you fare through it all?” Jonathan looked up with genuine concern
as Milton looked down uncomfortably again.

“Listen, I heard what happened, and I wanted
to tell you that I’m really sorry. What you’re going through has to
be hard. Those of us who are left feel awful for you.” Jonathan
looked away, embarrassed and eager to change the subject.

“Listen, Milt, I’ve been meaning to ask
you–”

“Look, Jon, I feel real bad about what’s
happened, but we’ve all been hit to some degree. I’m sorry, I
really wish I could help you out, but we took a decent loss, too,
and with the new baby and all . . . I just can’t. Good luck,
though, buddy.” He gave Jonathan two hard pats on the arm and
rushed past him. Jonathan watched him walk away, stunned. He had
intended to ask about Milton and Sarah’s baby, born just a few
weeks ago. He was curious if it had been a girl or boy. Then it hit
him. He thought I was asking for money. Thought I was begging for a
handout.

His face flooded crimson with angry
embarrassment. He was tempted to chase Milton down and set things
straight. Before he could decide whether to do just that, Charles
spoke behind him.

“Excuse me, sir, I found these in the
humidor. It’s the very last of them, but I thought they might be a
small luxury for you under the circumstances.” Charles held out a
box containing Jonathan’s Cuban cigars.

“Yes, Charles, thank you,” he said, smiling
slightly. If memory served, he had ten, maybe twelve, cigars left.
He would make those last as long as he could. When Jonathan opened
it, he found the box packed full. Those of a cheaper, locally made
brand surrounded the expensive, imported ones. He recalled that the
brand was the same as he had given to Charles last Christmas. He
looked up at Charles and smiled.

“Thank you,” he said quietly.

“You weren’t supposed to open it just yet,
sir,” he said, smiling with a twinkle in his old eyes and turned
quickly toward the house. Jonathan smiled, glanced down the road at
Milton’s distant, foggy silhouette and his smile faded.

∞∞∞

Walking through the door of his apartment,
Caleb dropped the supplies on the floor.

“I’m going to start patching the holes in the
walls. Why don’t you guys work on unloading and getting another
trip done?”

Jonathan nodded with his hands shoved in his
pockets and turned to leave.

“I stay here. I help with walls,” Sven said
matter-of-factly. No one was going to argue with the Russian
giant.

“Great. It’ll be good to have some company,
and the work will get done twice as fast.” Caleb tossed him a
trowel and started to mix a batch of plaster in the bucket.

∞∞∞

The others soon returned to Jonathan’s house
to get another load, this time smuggling the oak floor radio out
the back door. Ava had gathered a few small rugs, linens, and some
towels. Maura added a box of basic cooking necessities, having
rearranged the cupboards behind her. It was impossible to tell that
anything was missing. Ava gathered one last crate of their personal
items: Jonathan’s straight razor, a bottle of cologne, a bottle of
her perfume, a book that contained a few irreplaceable pictures of
her parents and her aunt, along with addresses of their friends.
She took her silver-framed wedding picture, and a wooden jewelry
box that had belonged to her grandmother; other than some clothes,
these were the only things they would take with them. She gazed
over the few belongings.

How do you take your entire life with you if
you have to walk out the door with only what you can carry?
How?

∞∞∞

Caleb had screwed hasps into place on the
outside of each of their doors. This would make them all feel
better about leaving their only worldly possessions alone
overnight. Caleb and Sven worked at an amazing pace and had nearly
completed the patching in his apartment by the time Jonathan’s
second load arrived. It wasn’t the prettiest job in the world, but
the white spots did look better than gaping holes. Caleb and Sven
began repairing the holes in Aryl’s apartment as the others went to
gather Aryl and Claire’s belongings.

“So, Sven. Where do you live?” Caleb
asked.

“In an apartment,” was his monotone
answer.

“You got a family at home?”

“Wife.”

“How long have you been cooking?”

“Since little boy.” Sven stared straight
ahead with a hard face and worked diligently.

“How long have you been working for
Jonathan?”

“Five years.” There was a long pause, the
sound of trowels scraping the walls echoed in the empty
apartment.

“You know, Sven, I don’t know if I can
concentrate with your constant yapping over there,” Caleb joked.
Sven said nothing, but glanced over at him with an infinitesimal
grin.

∞∞∞

Arianna dropped very unladylike into the
armchair, holding a drink in one hand as she dug in her handbag for
something with the other. Ava and Claire were sitting on the sofa
across from her, legs crossed with hands neatly folded in their
laps and watching her with raised eyebrows. Arianna lit a
cigarette, leaned back into the chair, and crossed her legs in a
masculine manner. Claire looked at her in horror.

“Arianna! Proper women don’t sit like that!”
she scolded, looking her up and down in reproach. Ava just smiled,
wondering if Claire knew the extent of Arianna’s antics on other
continents.

“Well, the thing about that, Claire,” she
paused to exhale, “is we’re not exactly proper women anymore, now,
are we? On the societal scale, we’re no more proper than
back-shanty, hired help. No offense, Maura,” she said
genuinely.

Maura raised her glass. “None taken,” she
assured and sipped her drink as Arianna continued.

“My mother used to preach about the silver
lining. ‘Always find the silver lining in a situation, for no
matter how desperate it may seem, one can be found’,” she said,
mimicking her mother’s southern accent. “I always thought she was
an optimistic simpleton.”

“A smart woman, she was,” Maura piped up.

“But then I got to thinking that without the
dreaded pressures of proper society bearing down on me, I am free
to have my drinks when I like, smoke when I like and damn well
curse when I like,” she said and smiled. “There’s no worry of
shocking one of Caleb’s clients or hurting the firm’s reputation by
his wife’s bad behavior.” She paused to flick her cigarette and
accidentally spilled her drink on the deep-green Persian carpet.
Ava gasped and jumped up.

“Ava, it’s not your carpet to worry after
anymore,” Arianna reminded her. Ava slowly sat back down.

“You’re right,” she said, somewhat
saddened.

“Well, that’s a relief!” Maura chimed in
loudly, who had placed herself in front of the fireplace with the
decanter of brandy securely by her side. “Because I spilled me
Bloody Mary behind Mr. Jonathan’s favorite chair, and I’m afraid
it’s gonna stink somethin’ awful tomorra’.”

Ava laughed at her former maid and shrugged
her shoulders. “Like Arianna said, it’s not my carpet anymore,
Maura.”

“So, anyway,” Arianna said, “I decided this
morning that, by the end of today, I would find one silver lining
in this whole mess. And I did,” she said, holding up her glass and
taking another drag from her cigarette. Claire and Ava weren’t
quite sure what to say. Ava had expected her to further fall apart,
not actually find a glint of good out of the whole situation.