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Mrs. Christiansen looked up and called, “Opal?” She headed to the dining room. When she got far enough away, Pierre widened the doorway and prepared to crawl into the kitchen.
But Opal swooped in. She called to Marvyl, “Did you hear that crash outside?”
In the dining room, Mrs. Christiansen said, “Well, it’s The Revels after all.”
Opal saw the ajar basement door and slammed it shut with a swift kick of her foot. She went to the dining room.
Pierre was sitting back on his haunches, holding his nose with both hands.
Still holding his boots, Dick eased out of the closet and edged down the hallway, wagging a finger at each maple door as he counted them. At what he thought may have been number four, he stopped and pushed it open. “Bathroom,” Dick said.
Another door opened down the hall. Dick ducked into the bathroom. Both doors slammed.
In the kitchen, Pierre was crawling on both knees and one hand, the other hand still holding his hurt nose. He reached what he believed to be the door to the servants’ staircase, but it was a full pantry closet. Eye level with the canned goods, he saw garbanzo beans, Jell-O packages, baby gherkins, and a jar of Dijon mustard behind a can of jellied beets.
With disgust, he said to himself, “La cuisine américaine.” With national pride he pulled the jar of Dijon mustard forward, obscuring the jellied beets, and closed the pantry door.
Mrs. Christiansen was approaching the pantry and saying, “Opal? I hear your voice, but I can’t find you.”
Scurrying sideways, Pierre opened another door and happened upon the staircase. Going up on his hands and knees, he turned around to shut the door behind him just as Mrs. Christiansen walked in, slamming that door shut with a bang. Pierre softly whimpered.
“Marvyl?” Opal called.
And Mrs. Christiansen called back, “Opal? Aren’t we
a pair at one in the morning?” She walked to Opal’s voice.
Still in the bathroom, Dick tilted his head out.
Concentrating on the hallway floor as if the ship was keeling, old Nell was shuffling toward him.
Dick ducked violently back into the bathroom, considered hiding behind a sunflower shower curtain, worried momentarily that he’d been watching too many sitcoms, and instead flattened against the wall, holding his boots against his chest. The bathroom door opened and, for the instant, hid him. Old Nell entered and shut the door. Completely exposed, Dick couldn’t believe the old crone didn’t see him. She opened the medicine cabinet, got out her toothpaste, and squeezed a glob of it onto a toothbrush. She said, “Remember to spit this time.”
In the hallway, Natalie was tiptoeing down the hall to Iona’s room. She leaned her cheek close to the door, listening for a male voice. Suddenly the door flew open, and a surprised Iona was only inches away.
Natalie was stumped for something to say, then twisted a hank of brown hair in a knot. She turned sideways. “Would you like my hair in a chignon?”
Iona just stared for some seconds. And then she said, “It’s darling.”
“Well, goodnight.”
A frustrated Iona slammed the door.
Natalie walked back to her room, passing the staircase to the kitchen just as Pierre, on his hands and knees, shoved the door. She did not see him, but deliberately bumped the kitchen staircase door shut with her hip. Another faint complaint from Pierre could be heard.
Old Nell exited the bathroom, and heard the latch click as she softly shut the bathroom door. She chanced to see Natalie as she slammed a hallway door behind her. Old Nell shrugged at Seldom’s new-fangled ways and slammed the bathroom door.
The kitchen staircase door opened and Pierre peeked out, a hand softly testing his abused nose, just as Dick peeked out from the bathroom. Seeing each other, they withdrew for a second, then peeked out again.
Then Iona and Natalie looked out with them. Simultaneously all four doors slammed shut.
Iona heard Mrs. Christiansen call from the kitchen, “Iona? What are you doing up there?”
Iona shouted back. “Nothing, Grandma!”
“But what’s all that noise?”
Iona shouted, “I’m doing nothing real loud!”
