Free The Mysterious Edge of the Heroic World by E.L. Konigsburg

her daddy is buried, Aida Lily goes on back to Europe. No one knows if she continued with her career after that, and if she did, it would’ve been brief, because within the year, she returned to St. Malo as Mrs. Walter Zender. Mr. Walter Zender, he comes back along with her. The two of them moved right in here, living with the duchess, and this is where Mrs. Zender has lived ever since—even after her mother died and even after her husband died too. I know she listens to a lot of opera, but I never heard her sing one note. Not even hum.”
    William said nothing more, but smiled at the angel on his shoulder.
    When it was time to take the before pictures of the music room, Mrs. Zender insisted upon posing beside the baby grand piano. She wore her feathered satin toque, two long ropes of pearls, and white satin gloves that came to her elbow. “Watch your focus, Mrs. Wilcox,” she cautioned. “I don’t want the keyboard in the picture. There must not beeven a hint that no one is playing.” She tugged at her gloves and fingered her pearls. “You must not make me a cliché, Mrs. Wilcox.”
    Mrs. Wilcox took a step back and called, “Ready. One, two, three.”
    Mrs. Zender lifted her chin and opened her mouth. Her lower lip quivered as if she were delivering a note above the ledger lines. She held that pose for minutes while Mrs. Wilcox moved forward and back and took several more shots. After all the angles had been played, Mrs. Zender moved from the piano and started taking off her gloves. “I never felt more like myself than when I was on stage being someone else,” she said.
    â€œBut,” Amedeo said, “you were always a boy or a bitch.”
    â€œNo, no, no,” she answered. “I was sometimes a boy, and I was often a bitch”—she looked at Mrs. Wilcox and winked, and then she continued—“but what I always was, was superb.”
    Mrs. Zender decided to take the entire contents of her bedroom to the Waldorf. Every piece of furniture in that room was beautiful—elaborately carved, mirrored,or painted—and massive. Fitting all of it into a standard Waldorf Court master bedroom would be difficult, but size was not the issue.
    The water bed was.
    Mrs. Zender had one. Queen size.
    Mrs. Zender insisted that she had slept in the finest beds in the finest bedrooms—and here she gave a wink to Mrs. Wilcox, which caused Mrs. Wilcox to blush—all over two continents, but her bed, the one she had here on Mandarin Road, was the only one that she had ever found that was not only comfortable but cool.
    Mrs. Wilcox knew that water beds of any size were strictly forbidden in Waldorf Court, but Mrs. Zender chose not to believe her and insisted upon calling the property manager.
    The property manager told Mrs. Zender that it was true—water beds were not allowed in Waldorf Court. He apologized for not having made it clear to her when she signed her contract, but the issue of water beds had never come up before.
    â€”Why?
    â€”Because no one here has one.
    â€”I mean, why are they not permitted?
    â€”Because of the damage they can do.
    â€”My dear young man, damage may be done in one’s bed, but not by one’s bed.
    â€”Mrs. Zender, water beds can leak.
    â€”Don’t be ridiculous. Pipes leak. Garden hoses leak. Even information can leak, but beds don’t leak.
    â€”But water beds do, Mrs. Zender. They can cause serious damage to floors and walls.
    Mrs. Zender said that if she could not take her bed with her, she would break her contract.
    The property manager said that he hoped she would reconsider. But water beds were strictly forbidden.
    â€”No water beds. No exceptions. However, if you do choose to break your contract at this late date, there will be a financial penalty. That, too, is in the contract.
    â€”Oh.
    Mrs. Zender hung up abruptly, more agitated than Amedeo had ever seen her. Mrs. Wilcox immediately