Grandpa dropped their suitcase with a thump. 'Joseph!' He strode across the room with a wide smile on his face.
'Richard, we're glad you made it.' The two men clasped hands and then patted each other on the back in a stereotypical grown-man hug. Clearly, this was one of Grandpa's college friends. Lily tried to picture the two of them as boys here in this club, and she failed. This man had never been young. He looked past Grandpa to Lily. 'And you've brought your precocious granddaughter?'
Lily nearly glanced behind her to see whom he was talking about. Yes, she took care of Mom a lot, and she managed the flower shop under Grandpa's supervision, but that was due to necessity, not precociousness. Precocious kids had dimples. And wore pigtails and sailor suits and recited Shakespeare in twelve languages by age two ... Oh, God, what if that was her competition for Princeton admission?
Grandpa beckoned her over. 'Lily, I'd like to introduce you to my oldest friend, Joseph Mayfair.' Lily deposited the duffel bag next to the suitcase and joined Grandpa.
'Did you have to say 'oldest'?' Mr. Mayfair said with an affected wince. He extended his hand to Lily. She shook it, and he closed both hands around hers, effectively trapping her hand. 'Pleasure to finally meet you.'
She shot Grandpa a look. He knew she didn't like to be talked about behind her back. She got enough of that at school. Grandpa looked unrepentant.
Mr. Mayfair continued to clasp her hand. 'Are you ready?' he asked.
He sounded so intense that she felt a butterflies-in-the-stomach flutter. 'Ready for what?' She considered how to squirm her hand away without being rude to this stately gentleman.
Grandpa scowled at his friend. 'I know the rules,' he said. 'I haven't told her anything.'
Nodding approval, Mr. Mayfair released Lily's hand. She flexed her fingers as she looked back and forth between Grandpa and Mr. Mayfair. Grandpa had never involved a stranger in his surprises before; they were a family-only tradition. Of course, this man wasn't a stranger to Grandpa. Lily might not have heard of him, but Grandpa had claimed him as his oldest friend. For the first time, it bothered Lily that Grandpa never talked about his college friends. She didn't like the thought of her beloved grandfather having any secrets from her, especially since he seemed to have told this man about her.
Joining them, Mom held out her hand. 'I'm Rose Carter, Richard's daughter.'
He clasped her hand. 'My dear, we are acquainted,' he said. His voice was soft and gentle. 'Do you not remember?'
Mom's lips pinched into an O. Silently, she shook her head.
As soon as Mr. Mayfair let go of Mom's hand, Lily took it. She spread her fingers over Mom's whitening knuckles.
'You have known me for many years,' he said. 'I even officiated at your wedding....' He looked as if he wanted to say more, but he halted. 'I'm sorry. I'm distressing you.'
'Not at all,' Mom said, all politeness and cheerfulness.
'Richard, she shouldn't be here,' Mr. Mayfair said. 'She should be home.'
Grandpa shook his head. 'She chose this, and I promised to see it through. I'm not going back on my word now.'
Lily thought that was a rather melodramatic way to put it. She squeezed Mom's hand. A smile was still plastered on Mom's face, as if she didn't mind that people were talking about her.
Grandpa turned to Mom and asked, 'Will you stay right here in this room until we return?' He spoke carefully, making sure the words sank in. Everyone had to be extra clear with Mom. Mom could forget where she was and wander off. Two summers ago at the beach on the Jersey Shore, Mom had insisted on fetching ice cream by herself. They found her an hour later, watching the carousel a mile down the beach. She said she was waiting for the horses to fly. After that, Lily didn't like leaving her alone anywhere.
'Mom ...,' Lily began.
Mom squeezed Lily's hand and then let go. 'I'll be right here when you return,' she promised. 'I'll practice my piano!' She pointed at the grand piano.
'You know you don't play piano, right?' Lily said.
'Hence the need for practice, practice, practice!' She wiggled her fingers in the air. Lily grinned and then kissed her mother's cheek. Mom was such an amazing person. Her own mind betrayed her on a near-daily basis, and she still found the strength to be gracious and funny. 'I shall be a virtuoso by the time you return,' Mom said.
Grandpa escorted Lily to the cream-white door by the fireplace. Mr. Mayfair preceded them and then halted before the door. In a low voice, he said to Grandpa, 'She didn't even recognize me.'
In an equally low voice, Grandpa said, 'Her rate of decline is worse than we expected.'
'Perhaps we should—'
Grandpa interrupted. 'My family, my decision. We must act now.'
Mr. Mayfair regarded him for a moment, then nodded and opened the door. Before Lily could ask Grandpa any questions about this odd exchange, she heard Mr. Mayfair announce, 'It's time.'
A knot formed in the base of Lily's stomach. 'You know I hate surprises,' she said under her breath.
'No, you don't,' Grandpa said just as softly. 'You love them. And I promise this will be the best surprise of all.' He held the door open for her, and Lily ducked under his arm. She halted in the doorway.
A dozen men and women waited inside a private library. Each was positioned as if for a painting ('Old Boys at Princeton,' Lily instantly dubbed it—if there was such a thing as an Old Boys' Network, this was it). A man in a black suit posed before a marble fireplace. Hands clasped behind his back, he regarded the cold ashes in the hearth with the solemnity reserved for a funeral. Another man leaned pseudocasually against the frame of a stained-glass window. He held an open book loosely in his hands. Lily noticed he was holding it upside down. A third man, portly and elderly, filled a thronelike chair that had armrests shaped like tiger heads. He puffed on a pipe, and smoke drifted in lazy curls over his head. Two women with impeccable posture perched on a red leather settee, and another woman with an ivory-tipped cane occupied a wingback chair. Others were perched on chairs and sofas or standing beside bookshelves.
The room itself overflowed with leather-bound books and Tiffany lamps. Above the marble fireplace was an oil painting of St. George and the Dragon. The stained-glass window depicted a tableau of knights and scholars around an emerald-green dragon with ruby talons. The green glass dragon wore a silver chain around its neck.
Lily heard awkward piano notes drift in from the main room. One of the younger men winced at a particularly inventive chord, and Mr. Mayfair shut the door.
Silence fell over the room.
Lily strained to hear the plunk of piano keys, but no sound penetrated the door. Her own breathing echoed unnaturally loudly in her ears. She wondered why a random room was so well soundproofed. She glanced at Grandpa. He was beaming, his smile as broad as the Cheshire Cat's. It wasn't reassuring.
As if he were introducing her to a concert audience, Grandpa said, 'This is my granddaughter, Lily!' Pride swelled his voice until he nearly crowed. 'She is ready for the test!'
Test?
What test?
No one had mentioned a test. She hadn't agreed to a test.
'Presumptuous,' the heavyset woman in the wingback chair said. She thumped her ivory-tipped cane on the floor for emphasis, but the ruby-red Oriental rug muffled the sound.
Lily opened her mouth to defend herself—she couldn't be presumptuous when she didn't even presume to have the least idea of what they were talking about. Before she could speak, Grandpa squeezed her shoulder. 'She was born for this,' he said.
The woman sniffed. 'We shall soon see.'
'Oh, for pity's sake, Joseph,' the man with the book said. 'Put the child out of suspense before she pees on
