Corinne chose to maintain her stubborn silence.
“You look like you’ve recovered from your stint at the asylum,” he said to Ada. “I accept gratitude in cash or check.”
He winked at her, and Corinne coughed loudly.
“Gratitude for what?” she said. “I recall being the one in the ridiculous nurse getup, pulling off all the stealth and subterfuge. You just waltzed in at the last minute with your vaudeville imitation of Knox.”
Jackson shrugged, unaffected. “Ada was fooled.”
Corinne gave Ada an expectant look, and her lips twitched.
“The eyes were wrong,” Ada said.
“Exactly,” said Corinne.
Jackson looked between them, but both were stone-faced. A united front.
“You two are hard ones to crack,” he said at last, moving away from the table.
“That might be the first real compliment you’ve ever given,” Corinne told him.
“My pleasure.” Jackson flashed his toothy grin and gave a parting wave.
“I still don’t like him,” Corinne said to Ada, once he and Glenn were gone.
“I’m not sure you’ve ever really liked anybody,” Ada said, taking a sip of coffee.
“That’s not fair. I like you. I like your mother. I like—” Corinne barely stopped herself from saying Saint. Old habits. “I like that baker who gave me a free cupcake that one time.”
“He gave me that cupcake, and you stole it.” Ada was smiling, giving no indication she’d noticed Corinne’s near slip. “Jackson doesn’t seem all that bad. Kind of reminds me of you, actually.”
Corinne searched for something to throw at her, but she wasn’t willing to part with her biscuit. She took a bite of it instead.
“Let’s go uptown today,” she said around her mouthful. “I’ve got an idea that might be worth some aces. It’s like an abbreviated Carraway coal mine, but with scarves.”
Ada looked at her strangely, and Corinne wiped her face, expecting it to be smeared with food. “What?” she asked.
Ada let out a short laugh.
“You’ve forgotten.”
“Forgotten what?”
“You’re due at the train station today. It’s still school holidays, and your parents are expecting you.”
Corinne groaned and dropped her head onto her arms.
“Can’t I just telephone them and tell them I fell off a horse during equestrian lessons and the school nurse demands I stay in bed?”
“And risk your parents’ driving to Billings Academy to visit you?” Ada raised an eyebrow at her, unmoved by her distress. “You pay the headmistress to send home good reports, but not nearly enough to deal with your parents in person.”
Corinne moaned and did not raise her head.
“There, there,” Ada said, patting her arm with faint sympathy. “It’s better than actually having to attend Billings. Posh food and unparalleled academia. The horrors.”
“Snotty debs and itchy uniforms and not a single drop of booze for miles,” Corinne corrected. She stood up. “Fine, but I’ll be visiting Aunt Maude first thing tomorrow, so I’ll meet you here around ten.”
“One day you might consider spending more than a few minutes with your aunt Maude.”
“You wouldn’t say that if you’d ever actually met the woman.”
Corinne took her dishes to the kitchen and headed to their room to change. She kept her school uniform folded in a suitcase under her bed. The leather-and-brass case was by far the nicest possession she had, but she touched it only during the holidays. She had been at home for Christmas still when Johnny called to tell her that Ada had been taken into custody. She couldn’t even remember the details of the barely coherent lie she’d concocted to convince her parents that she had to leave the next day to return to school. Something about a national Latin competition and the Billings contestant having the flu. If they hadn’t been immersed in preparations for their New Year’s party, they never would have bought it. Corinne was skilled at taking advantage of her parents’ inattention, though. She’d promised to catch the train home in two weeks and escaped before they could come to their senses.