“I’m sorry to surprise you,” Mrs. Sutton said, seeing what must have been a mortified expression on my face. Her voice was as smooth and polished as the rest of her. “We’ve been so looking forward to your arrival that we couldn’t bear to wait in the sitting room like a couple of posed dolls. We wanted to meet you right away . . . but now I can see that wasn’t very thoughtful of us.”
“Nonsense, Laura, she’s fine,” Mr. Albright said cheerily. Then, turning to me, he said, “Margaret, allow me to introduce you to John and Laura Sutton.”
“At your service,” Mrs. Sutton said, her smile more subdued.
There was silence as everyone waited for me to speak. I didn’t think I was going to be able to come up with anything, but when I opened my mouth, a few words tumbled out. “Thank you so much for having me,” I said. “It means a lot.”
To my horror, Mr. Sutton stepped closer and put a hand on my shoulder. “For a very long time, I’ve wanted to repay the debt I owed your father. I’m glad to have a chance, and I’m sorry that it’s under these circumstances.”
I tried to think of a suitable response.
“Oh, John, now’s not the time for speechmaking,” Mrs. Sutton said, swooping over and swatting him away. “I’m sure Margaret wants a few minutes by herself before we descend on her.”
I did, desperately. But maybe their classiness was rubbing off on me, because it seemed impolite to go off alone so soon. “I’m okay,” I said. “Could I please maybe have a glass of water?”
They leaped into action, thrilled to have a task. Mr. Sutton rushed away to fetch the water, while Laura ushered me down the hall to a room where the blessed rehydration could take place.
“The west parlor,” she said, with a subtle flourish of her slim hand. “Please make yourself comfortable.”
I looked around as she steered me toward a small sofa. The room was like something from a museum—every detail looked as if it had been left untouched for a hundred years. The walls were polished wood, adorned with large paintings of horses and hunting dogs. The furniture was ornate and old-fashioned. The love seat I found myself on was upholstered in a satiny fabric of blue and white stripes, with tufted green velvet pillows nestled in the corners.
Mr. Albright waited off to the side while Mrs. Sutton perched on a leather armchair and looked at me like I was the dessert cart at a fancy restaurant.
“Was the drive all right?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said. “Thank you.”
“Long, though, wasn’t it?” She glanced almost accusingly at Mr. Albright, as if the distance were somehow his fault. “Did you get lunch?”
“A long ride, but very pretty,” I said. “And yes, we did have lunch.”
“We stopped in Hopkins,” Mr. Albright said in his own defense. “We had sandwiches.”
“Oh, Hopkins, that’s good,” she said, relaxing and sitting back. Then she sat up again. “You have to tell me if there’s anything we can get for you. We aren’t in town every day, but we can send out if there’s something you require.”
I was about to deflect the question, but then I realized I had a real need. “I could use a toothbrush, I guess,” I said. “I left mine at Palmer House.”
“Palmer House,” she repeated. “Is that where you were staying?”
I nodded.
“Was it nice? Did you have friends?”
I stared straight into her eyes, which were nearly the same brown as the wood paneling on the walls behind her. Despite her kindness, their undeniable generosity toward me, I couldn’t help feeling that this was all some kind of assessment. A test.
Better pass it.
“Oh, yes,” I said. “It was very nice. I had a lot of friends.”
I could feel Mr. Albright’s eyes on me. “Excellent facility,” he agreed. “Bright, a lot of natural light.”
“That’s good,” she said, compassion in her voice. “I imagine the girls there have all had a hard time. It’s nice to think they have a comfortable place to live. I—I guess I just don’t feel that girls belong in ‘facilities.’ But of course that’s not a problem for you any longer. You live here, Margaret, with us. And you absolutely must let us know what we can do to make you feel at home.”
Let’s see. If I were at home, I would be in my room, on my bed, listening to music and browsing my friends’ social media accounts to see what everybody was up to. And my parents and sisters would be alive. So good luck trying, Laura, but I can’t see that happening.
“We only have one rule here, really,” she said. “To respect one another—and the house, of course. I find that if respect is in place, everything else falls into line.”
Doable. “Of course,” I said.
The sides of her eyes crinkled in approval as Mr. Sutton came through the door with a glass of water—not a normal glass, but one made of intricately cut crystal that weighed about three pounds. I thanked him and took it with both hands, sipping as carefully as I could and then resting it on a coaster that Mrs. Sutton slid across the enormous wooden coffee table.
She fidgeted and looked up at her husband, who was still standing off to the side. “I was telling Margaret that I don’t think girls belong in facilities.”
He gave her an impatient look and spoke with an edge to his voice. “There’s time to discuss that later.”
I grabbed for my water like it was a life preserver. The room was totally silent as I drank, and at one point my teeth clanked against the crystal. The sound seemed to echo off the walls.
Finally, when the glass was empty, I set it down for good and looked up at them.
“Thank you, Mrs. Sutton,” I said. “And Mr. Sutton. I hope this doesn’t sound rude, but could I please see my room?”
They exchanged a glance.
“Call me Laura,” Mrs. Sutton said. “And Mr. Sutton is John. We can’t be formal. We’re all going to be good friends. We’re like . . . a team. Working together toward a common goal.”
A goal? Okay, was this the part where they sent me to the maid’s quarters to fetch the broom so I could sweep the house before they tossed me a crust of bread?
The air dripped with unspoken words. I thought I was imagining it until I glanced over at Mr. Albright, whose cheeks seemed slightly flushed. Then, after a peculiarly weighted look from Laura, he lurched into action, walking to the fireplace mantel and picking up a crystal picture frame. He carried it over and handed it to me. It was so heavy I nearly dropped it. Why did everything rich people owned weigh twice as much as normal stuff?