At least the evening started off well.
After avoiding a cheese sandwich at dinner due to a repulsion toward anything edible at the moment, Lucy changed into fresh attire with her sister as the clock ticked closer to eight o'clock. Rosaline pulled a pink lace and organdy dress out of her wardrobe for Lucy and curled the girl's frizzled hair into ringlets with a hot iron, encircling her head with a beaded band.
"See, it's just like preparing for a party," Rosaline told her, wiggling into a white dress with a full skirt and thin straps, her curves spilling over the dipped neckline.
A married couple with engaging laughs and dancing eyes entered the home first, and Rosaline took their coats and their sitting fee as she introduced them as Mildred and Herman Beveridge. Mrs. Beveridge wore an ugly dark necklace and a yellow gown; her husband's Adam's apple bulged above a bright-blue bowtie.
"Lucy, how nice to meet you," said the missus, her weathered face similar to Mrs. Applebaum's from Topeka. "What a lovely girl you are. Has anyone ever mentioned you could pass for Lillian Gish?"
Lucy's heart surged at the comparison to the brunet cinema beauty. "No, of course not. Lillian Gish is so pretty."
Mrs. Beveridge chuckled. "What a silly girl you are. Has anyone ever mentioned that?"
"Yes, ma'am. Many times."
Mrs. Parr arrived a minute afterward, followed by a heavy-set gentleman in his forties who had apparently just joined the circle in recent weeks. After the dollar-per-person fee was duly collected, Rosaline gathered her guests in the living room and pampered them with plates of cheese and crackers, sliced apples and oranges, hot tea, coffee, and a pound cake prepared with sweetened condensed milk by a bakery adapting to the rationing.
With a cup of steaming tea in hand, Rosaline seated herself next to Lucy on the sofa and touched her sister's arm with heated fingers. She spoke in a hushed voice as everyone else chattered and gorged. "The newer gentleman is Robert Dressel, who lost his wife, Adelaide, to pneumonia last spring. Good old Brawley, my spirit control I was telling you about, talked him into plans for erecting a shrine to the poor woman to steer his grief into something useful. The Beveridges' son, Charlie, died in battle at the Marne. And of course, you know about Mrs. Parr."
Lucy gazed at the small gathering, latching her lips together to avoid appearing stunned, wondering how each one of the sitters--even the recent widower--managed the strength to laugh and feast and squeeze pleasure out of a chaotic world ailing with war and disease. How were they able to summon such joy when they pined for loved ones who left them behind?
"There are a few rules I must mention," continued Rosaline as Mr. Beveridge related jokes from a downtown burlesque show. "First of all, the spirits despise light. We'll be sitting in complete darkness, and even if you're frightened, do not leap up and open the door. Even the smallest rays could either terrify or damage our visitors."
Lucy nodded, her neck hairs bristling as if someone had just opened a window, allowing the nippy night air to trickle down her back.
"Second, if you see a limb-like object seep from my body, do not touch it. The substance is called ectoplasm, and from it flows spirit hands, voices, and, God willing, entire bodies."
Mrs. Parr overheard the last few words and patted Rosaline's wrist. "Don't worry, dear, you'll produce a full manifestation one day. No one thinks any less of you."
Rosaline cast her eyes down to her teacup. "I know--I keep telling myself the same thing." She sniffed--was she fighting back tears? Clearing her throat, she peered back at Lucy with watery eyes. "As I said, you must never touch it. Because ectoplasm is such a delicate substance, and because it stems directly from me, anyone who places her fingers upon it could badly bruise my body and possibly cause my death."
Lucy's breathing ceased. She saw Mrs. Parr nod, her mouth pinched into a no-nonsense knot that verified the gravity of the situation.
"Third..." Rosaline blinked away any tears that might have plagued her and wiggled a smile to her face. "Enjoy yourself. You're going to have heaps of fun."
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