"You see I came up to your roof to look for them. I only hoped that they wouldn't have gone far, but it seems that I was mistaken," Anne explained. Her voice quivered throughout the entire lie-generated story.

"You poor dear," Ms. Clearwater exclaimed, taking Anne's hand. "Oh," she hesitated, "you must stay with us.. at least until we can find your company."

"Stay?" Mr. Bordeaux gasped, his eyes wide. He looked questionably to Elise, and slowly cleared his throat. "Elise, may I please see you in private for a moment?"

Ms. Clearwater released Anne's hand and followed him into the other room. Colm shut the glass drawing room doors behind her, then advanced to speak his mind. "What in the devil's name are you doing? This woman is a stranger -"

Elise cut him off sharply, her eyes like spears. She shook her finger haughtily at him. "- a very nice stranger at that and I will not take this yelling at me. Colm Alexander Bordeaux, on your mother's deathbed she told me that I was to take you over my knee any time that I deemed it fit and this instance won't be an exception."

"That is preposterous!" Colm yelled.

"Are you saying that I wouldn't?" she growled.

"Just look at this logically. This Anne, uh -" He snapped his fingers impatiently upon searching for the right word.

"Montgomery," Elise supplied.

"Ah, yes, Anne Montgomery.. She is a stranger. I do not want a stranger living in my house."

"True," Ms. Clearwater replied, "but she is a respectable young lady. She said that she is from Philadelphia. Have you heard of the Philadelphian Montgomerys?"

"No," he said, quirking an eye.

"Well, I have," she said matter of factly.

"What do they do? Do you know?" Mr. Bordeaux asked.

"A steel company owner I believe, or maybe it was iron. I don't know. I forget."

Colm began to pace the room, his eyes darting to the floor. "Oh." He paused as he lit a cigar. "But you have heard of them?"

"Absolutely," she exclaimed, "I think."

___

Anne was dressed in the white cotton nightgown and cap that had been borrowed from one of the help and she waited patiently as Ms. Clearwater, the girl named Evelyn, and another young woman made up the bed. She sat down at the dresser overlooking the street and admired the nightlife.

"Tomorrow I'll take you out to get some respectable clothes," Ms. Clearwater said.

"What do you mean respectable? These are just fine," Anne replied. Her delicate fingers traced over the simply embroidered sleeves of the gown.

"I'm sure that you are used to much better. Are you rich, Anne?"

"I guess that you could say that I pretty well off," she replied.

"You'll be needing nicer things if you plan on staying here. As Mr. Bordeaux's guest you'll be attending galas and other events," Elise explained.

Anne sighed. "I don't wish to be a bother."

"You won't be, dear. Besides, it would be rude of him to leave you home while he's out."

Anne nodded quietly, then opened the desk drawer. Inside there was a Waterman pen and a few sheets of paper. She pulled them out and placed them underneath the glimmering candlelight. She discarded the top sheet that had already been written on then turned to refill the empty cartridge. Anne lovingly touched the pen to the rough, slightly yellowed paper.

Dear Spot, she began.

Ms. Clearwater walked over to stand beside the desk. She pulled her wire-rimmed spectacles down from the top of her head. The glasses slipped to the tip of her nose as she leaned down to look. "What's that you're writing?" she asked Anne.

"Oh, its nothing really," Anne replied, moving the letter out of sight. She folded it carefully and placed it inside the desk.

"To bed with you, deary," the sweet old housekeeper smiled.

Anne slowly climbed into the warm made-down palette. She snuggled deep into the soft pillow, a smile never leaving her face.

"Sleep well," Ms. Clearwater said as she blew out the candle on the bedside table.

Anne caught her sleeve before she could leave. "Elise?"

"Yes, dear," she replied through the darkness.

The younger woman hesitated. "H-have you ever written a letter to the unknown? Have you ever written a letter when you know that there will be no reply?"

In the pitch-black room, Ms. Clearwater sat perplexed. "Well, no."

"Oh," Anne sighed, suddenly feeling foolish.

"But I've heard of such," Elise said. "The saying goes - a word of love, a sentence of hope, and a letter to the sea for new beginning."