“The room was bright with sun, drowned in sun. The canvas covers on the furniture were removed, and the ray of sunshine through the windows was so strong it was blinding. Lawrence Van Alen stood in the middle of the room, examining an old portrait that hung over the fireplace. There were old-fashioned steamer trunks stacked in the hallway, along with a large, battered Louis Vuitton footlocker. Hattie and Julius stood around him, clasping their hands. Hattie saw Schuyler first. “Miss Schuyler! I ...couldn’t stop him—he had a key. He said he owned this house, and he began to open the curtains and demanded we remove the drop cloths. He said he’s your grandfather. But Mrs. Cordelia was a widow since l’ve known her.” “It’s all right, Hattie. It’s fine. Julius, I’ll handle this,” Schuyler said, soothing the staff. The maid and chauffeur looked doubtfully at the interloper, but they heeded Schuyler’s words and excused themselves from the room. “What are you doing here?”MoreLessRead More Read Less
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