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"That's a good idea," Gavin added.
Aunt Fern flicked him a scathing glance and then turned to me, smiling scornfully, cruelly.
"First, I doubt that any room is any cleaner anyway, and second, I like this room. Why should it have been so neglected all this time?" she asked as if she really cared. "And why are they using these old oil lamps and candles if the electricity works?"
"They don't mind and it's expensive to run electricity through such a big house," I explained. She smirked.
"They're living rent free," Fern said. "They have no real expenses."
She continued to parade through the suite, deliberately turning on every lamp. She stopped at the vanity table to examine the jars of dried creams and makeup, the old brushes and combs.
"What's all this junk doing here?" she asked. "It should have been thrown out long, long ago. Bring a garbage bag up here," she ordered.
"Oh no," Charlotte said, shaking her head and smiling as if the idea was ridiculous. "That's all my mother's things."
"So?" Fern replied with indifference. "Your mother's dead, isn't she? She isn't going to need makeup and combs anymore." She ran her finger over the mirror, drawing a thick line through the dust. "Don't forget this mirror, Princess. Get it shining."
"Who do you think Christie is . . . your slave?" Gavin demanded. Aunt Fern peered at both of us through her dark, angry slits.
"Oh, I'm sure Christie doesn't mind pleasing her favorite aunt," she replied. "I'm her favorite aunt because I always keep her little secrets," she added, smiling. "Right, princess?"
Gavin and I exchanged looks of frustration while Aunt Fern continued to examine the suite, her eyes settling on the bathroom. She marched to it and inspected the sink and tub.
"Bring up a pail full of disinfectant, too. I expect these fixtures to shine when you're finished," she told me. "You'll have to get down on your hands and knees and scrub this floor. I won't permit my bare feet on such a dirty surface."
"That'll take hours!" I cried.
"Oh dear, oh dear," Charlotte whimpered.
"I'm really surprised no one's done this room before," Aunt Fern complained and turned back to Charlotte. "Why my sister-in-law and my brother let you run down this place and do all these stupid things to it is beyond me. It's still a piece of property with some value to it, isn't it? Morton?"
"It has a certain residual value," Morton said with disinterest. "Land's always worth something, even though the buildings are in disrepair."
"I just love this bed though," Aunt Fern said, going to it and stroking the post. "It's quite an elegant piece. And look at the work in this dresser and this armoire," she said indicating the carvings.
"Yes, the furniture is worth something," Morton agreed.
"Christie," Aunt Fern said, turning on me. "Why haven't you gone for the pail of soap and water and the rags? We don't have all night, you know."
"I don't think you realize how much work is involved here," Gavin said more calmly.
"Yes I do," Fern replied, smiling. "But if you're so worried about your precious princess doing too much and getting her precious fingers too soiled, why don't you help her?" she said icily. Then she spun on Charlotte. The poor dear gasped and her hands flew up to her throat like two terrified birds seeking the safety of a branch. "Aunt Charlotte, do you want to get us some clean linens, please, and towels, lots of clean towels. Do you own a vacuum cleaner?" she demanded.
Charlotte shook her head, overwhelmed.
"All they have is the old-fashioned push-thing that picks up surface dirt," I said quickly. Aunt Fern smirked.
"Well, I suppose it will have to do. Come on, everyone, get cracking," Fern said, enjoying her role as supervisor.
"You really can't sleep in here," Charlotte said, her eyes wide. "The spirits still come to this room at night, even during the day sometimes."
"Spirits? Oh, you mean like ghosts? Well, that's all right. Morton and I are used to spirits, but spirits of another kind. Which reminds me, what's to drink around here?"
"We have water and milk and juice," Aunt Charlotte listed proudly.
"I'm talking about whiskey," Aunt Fern snapped.
"Whiskey?" Charlotte thought a moment. "In my daddy's office in the cabinet. But it's old," she said, and Aunt Fern and Morton laughed.
