She was a different person in the daylight hours, without her makeup and with her eyes like slits and her skinny frame wrapped in an oversize robe. I tried to hide my surprise, which reappeared when she emerged from her rooms an hour later, primped and wide-awake and put together. She peered in the library door, squinting.
"There you are. Hiding. It's time we put you right," she said as I stood up, and then she looked down at my old black shoes. "Good grief. First order of business is new shoes. And for pity's sake, take off those awful stockings before we leave the apartment."
"I'm not a flapper," I said.
"Yeah? Well, we can fix that," she responded. "Come on."
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