CLAIRE EYED HER HAIRDO IN THE MIRROR, nitpicking each out-of-place dark bronze hair. Pausing for a moment, she met the reflection of her own gaze. Her bold blue eyes matched those of a mother she held only in memory now. The corners of her mouth pulled slightly in a frown. Her eyes switched back to her hair. She refused to think about her. After all the time that had passed, she learned nothing was to be done on that front and her father might just be right. It was a hard pill to swallow, making her worry she remembered her past like an idyllic dream. Besides, Father sent Mother to Switzerland, convinced the American doctors had done nothing to help her. She lived far away now and Claire knew she wouldn't ever come home.

Claire reached for her brown hat, a trendy little thing she picked up from one of the chic shops of New York City. She put the hat on her head and arranged it just so to salvage her unruly locks. She stepped back, inspected her work and smiled with approval at how well the ivory silk blouse matched with the rest of her outfit. Smoothing her brown A-line skirt, another fine purchase from another fine establishment, her excitement grew. She soon cast off the shadow of her past. It was time to think of the future.

School faded to the annals of time along with her mother. She took a deep, settling breath, leaving the past in the mirror, and faced her room. The small chamber was tiny and tidy. She had never grown very attached to the old four walls, just thankful for the shelter from weather and moods.

A leather suitcase sat at the foot of the bed next to an upturned trunk, scratched and marked with wear from good use. The set was like a pair of old friends. Her aunt had purchased them for her when she came to live in New York. Claire stepped past the trunk, giving it a pat where an old rail sticker distinguished it. She took up the smaller suitcase and went to the door. She opened the barrier to her bare old room and ducked her head out. The hall beyond, as worn and well used as the case she carried, was well lit from the noon sun streaming through the huge windows and doors at either end. Claire scanned both ends. Not a soul wandered in sight. She set the case beside her door and went back into her room, leaving the portal open.

It struck her as odd that she was so alone at this accolade. While everyone else had gone off to celebrate with family, she waited there for the only person left in her world. Claire found her tweed suit jacket and quickly put it on. Light footsteps echoed along the hall beyond as she buttoned the garment.

"Claire!" She heard a young woman's voice call.

Claire saw a bright, freckled face smiling at her from the door. At the young woman's side stood her perfect match, though the other girl appeared more subdued.

"Claire Healey," the young, flaxen-haired woman said with the lyrical tones of the south. "You're going to leave without even a good-bye?" she cried, entering Claire's inner sanctum.

"I do apologize, Margaret. I woke late today and with all the hubbub of everyone getting ready to go, I've been a bit at sea."

Claire acknowledged the other girl. "Hello, Marcy."

Margaret and Marcy were twin sisters and as Southern as they could come, right down to their dappled cheeks and flaxen hair. Their superficial details, however, marked the end of the similarities. The girls occupied opposite ends of the spectrum, Margaret being the melodramatic socialite and Marcy being the gentle and silent recluse. Regardless of such differences, propriety numbered the first and most commonly held value, something to follow to the letter. None of Claire's big-northern-city-ways excused her.

"Well, I won't hear of it. It's not proper. We've been friends this whole time, Claire, and you sneak off without a good-bye. Why, we even went to the same grammar school. I made Daddy move us to this one when you left," Margaret said while her sister predictably held her silence.

"I didn't leave yet, Margaret." Claire smiled, slipping gloves on her hands.

"Everything packed?" Marcy whispered.

"I certainly hope so, because I don't plan on coming back for anything."

Marcy's smile was bittersweet.

"I'll miss you," Margaret said, touching Claire's arm.

"I'm not dying, Margaret," Claire said with an impish slant of her lips.

The young women eyed each other a moment and then laughed.

"No, no, of course not," Margaret said. "But it'll feel like it for me."

"I hate good-byes," Claire said. She didn't need to say more.

Margaret knew. A lot of the girls knew about Claire's family and the rumors helped spread it to the rest. "We'll see each other quite often when you make it up to the city come summer."

Margaret saddened. Her chin drooped and she nodded, becoming silent like her sister. All three had shared the same society for part of the year. Their paths would cross more often than they realized, but less than they would like.

"Miss Healey," a constrained and vastly deeper voice came from the doorway.

Her Aunt's driver took up the entryway. He had quite a regal bearing in his uniform and smart cap. His back stood stiff and straight, standing at attention, hinting at his days as a doughboy a generation ago. Dudley always cut quite the impressive character.

"Don't you look lovely, Dudley," Claire teased him. He was always too serious and she made him suffer for it.

"Your aunt is waiting out front," Dudley told her brusquely. "Are these all the bags?"

"That case and the trunk, Dudley. Thank you," Claire said.

The bareness surrounding her hardly felt like her space any longer, and its drastic change drove her toward the door. Claire hesitated, knowing she forgot something. Glancing back, she saw her purse on the mattress. Like the rest of the room, the bed lay stripped. Dudley entered the room behind her as she took up the little bag.

"You go on out to your aunt, Miss," Dudley told her. "I'll give it the once 'round."

"Thank you, Dudley," Claire said, searching her purse for anything she might need in a pinch.

"I'll leave you to it, then," Margaret said. "Safe trip home," she added, holding her arms out for a last good-bye hug.

Claire shut her purse and went to her friend. They hugged each other tightly, stopping before the tears fell. Claire reached for Marcy, to be sure not to leave the quieter sister out. She was too shy to say a word, but Claire knew how she felt.

"Marcy," Claire said. "You take good care of Margaret. Her mouth is sure to get her into trouble-and don't you be afraid to stand up to her now and again."

"Thank you, Miss Claire," Marcy said.

"All right then, my friends," Claire said. "Here we go. Back to New York and on with life."

Claire's words echoed in her head as she crossed the threshold and left the old dorm room behind. Her shoes clacked against the marble floor in the hall. The frightening cadence of her steps almost chased away the excitement of her great accomplishment. Fixing her eyes on the door, she felt as if she were in a dream, and graduation hadn't even happened yet. She pictured herself still a as small girl in a strange place where she knew no one.

Claire reached the doors and pushed them open, exiting from the dormitory. She stood at the top of the steps blinking at the gray, white light of the sky. The wind blew hard, throwing her hair back into an unruly mess. She clapped a hand on her hat to prevent further damage. Her eyes settled on the shining yellow car below. Her aunt sat inside the boxy contraption, hidden except for her bare hands waving a pair of gloves. Claire quickly hopped down the steps.

"Do you feel finished?" Aunt asked as she climbed into the vehicle beside her. The robust woman crushed Claire in her arms laughing.

"Oh, how I've missed you, my little darlin'."

"Hello, Aunt Noreen," Claire said.

"What's taking that Dudley so long?"

"I left him in there with the twins. He was checking to be sure I remembered everything. He'll be along soon, if Margaret doesn't peck him to death first."

"If he takes any longer, we'll miss dinner," Aunt complained. "You must be starved. Look at you, how thin you are." She eyed Claire carefully.

"Do they feed you girls anything round here? I'm watching you all run around like a bunch of waifs."

"Yes, Aunt," Claire replied, unsure about her aunt's mood. "We have plenty to eat."

"Not to worry," Aunt told her. She folded her gloves in her lap and sighed. "You look lovely."

Claire smiled. She loved her aunt. Since moving in with her during her eleventh summer, she found the woman one of the most intriguing people she knew. Her demeanor was electric, if not combustible. She always came ready with an answer and kept Claire busy with the gads of things to occupy them in the city. Claire was giddy once more. Aunt being in an exceedingly good mood usually meant surprises.

"Claire," her aunt said. The tone of her voice changed. The playfulness was gone. "Your father's having a dinner party in a couple weeks. He wants you to attend."

"But," Claire sputtered before she was cut off. This wasn't the surprise she expected.

"Now I know I promised you a grand voyage." Aunt paused. She searched the car interior for the right words. "But he's your father and you haven't seen much of him since living with me. I think we can wait to go for a couple more days. None of the places I was planning to take you are going anywhere."

"Aunt," Claire said, a plea free from begging or whining. Young ladies did not plead like intractable children.

"I told him you'd be coming," Aunt said, focused out the window and seeing her chauffer at last. "Ah, there's Dudley."

"Well, if you told him, then there's nothing for it." Claire smoothed her skirt over her knees. "Then we'll go."

"That's the other thing," Aunt said. "I'm already engaged to be at another party that night. I won't be able to make it."

"You're going to leave me to suffer there alone?"

"Suffer?"

"Well, I won't know anyone. Not anyone that I want to know. I barely know my own father. At that distance, I would have to stay the night."

Aunt laughed, tossing her head back. The car shook as Dudley placed the baggage in the back.

"You mean that Edward Lynch boy?"

Claire tightened her lips and slipped her hands under her legs like an awkward little girl.

"I'm sure he'll be there if he knows you're coming," Aunt teased.

"Don't think on it, honey. No one said you have to marry the fella."

"Well, at least I won't have to worry about my poor French," Claire said.

Dudley opened the driver's door and climbed in.

"Let's change the subject. I can see it upsets you," Aunt said.

"Home, Dudley."

"Yes, ma'am," he said.

"You let me know if you're getting hungry," Aunt said, touching Claire's arm. "I'll have Dudley find us a decent stop. You're liable to faint."

Claire wanted to speak, but Aunt kept her focus out the window. The conversation had ended for now. Aunt didn't like to talk in front of others about family business. It was just as well. Claire didn't like anyone knowing her family business either.

Claire sat back and let her head rest on the seat. She observed the lawn and the gate passing by as the car pulled out onto the open road. It felt significant, after all the to-do of school days, that the process culminated in a rotten, cheerless fizzle of nothing.