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usually just a
drink and then his apartment. No awkward mornings. No hope for
anything else. He was attractive. He was young – younger than her,
but definitely more accomplished. He was on the career path, no
doubt hoping to be a chief surgeon someday. But she couldn’t
imagine herself having a conversation with him every day, much less
every day for twenty years. She didn’t expect anything from him and
didn’t always answer his calls.
    She couldn’t understand why Ben Cottingham
hit a nerve. And why… a week later… she let herself admit it. She
didn’t like him in high school. She liked Adam Jackson… and that
was like Will… a silly crush she never believed could be a reality
in spite of her public wishes it would be. She didn’t like Ben. She
didn’t bother to think of him. Not that it would have made any
difference if he was following Sara around all the time. And wasn’t
he still just following Sara by choosing her?
    Lizzie shut her eyes in annoyance. High
school was long ago – almost four times the number of years she
actually spent in it. And that many years since she sat across from
Ben Cottingham in the library… when she was a very different person
herself. How could she not let the idea that he changed enter her
mind?
    He may no longer like Sara… but he didn’t
like her enough to stay until the morning.
    Lizzie tossed onto her side, annoyed that
the thoughts were keeping her awake. She didn’t want to do this to
herself again. She was too old for ill-fated affections. She
managed to survive the majority of her 33 years without a serious
relationship. She once blamed her appearance for that singularity.
But she knew it was a choice to remove herself from the dating
game. She still had no real desire to enter it. She certainly had
no desire to let her heart fall for someone who didn’t want her for
more than flirting.
    Lizzie forced those thoughts from her head,
even as her exhaustion lacked the strength to fight their
doggedness. She tried to think of something else entirely and went
back to her day at the Fulton House. She liked working there. Even
though she only managed to guide three people through the house at
the end of the day. It was still an opportunity to bring strangers
through a place she loved. She couldn’t explain her affection for
the two hundred year old home. She really didn’t care about the
wallpaper and furniture. She was fascinated by Margaret and John
Fulton and their political activism. Although… didn’t that letter
from Harriet imply that Margaret thought politics less interesting?
Or maybe that was Harriet trying to be clever. Lizzie shut her eyes
and laughed thinking of Paula’s disapproval for her speculation. It
was difficult to not speculate about Harriet. There was so little
to know of her… just to imagine what she was thinking when she sat
for that portrait or stared out her window…
    Lizzie felt very very tired. She knew she
was obligated to finish her tour. She wanted to lie down, but knew
Paula would be upset if she decided to take a nap on one of the
beds. Not that Lizzie would want to sleep on one of those beds. The
mice liked to scurry across the linens. Lizzie saw a mouse as she
continued talking about Mr. and Mrs. Fulton in the dining room.
Mrs. Fulton liked to give dinner parties. She was very fond of her
friends and grateful to those who supported the belief that the
United States should not be at war with England.
    Mrs. Fulton’s favorite dish was roasted pork
with potatoes and carrots. Lizzie looked at the dining room table
and was startled to find all the dishes were dirty and in need of
clearing. She didn’t want Paula to come in and tell her she hadn’t
cleaned the room properly. Lizzie collected the plates and brought
them into the kitchen. She noticed the fire was dying and went to
add another log. She pushed it into the coals and watched the flame
lick around it. She sensed someone in the room and wondered if it
might be Harriet’s