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Unformatted text preview: he tiny medallion above, with four candle-shaped bulbs of pink glass. "And money, don't forget money," Alicia had said to her not long ago, when she had wished aloud that Amelia could be beautiful again. "Why don't we ask Uncle Ryan for the money? We're Mayfairs. There's the legacy! Hell, I'm old enough to hire a contractor, to bring in a plumber. Why is everything always falling apart?" Alicia had waved that away with disgust. Asking people for money meant inviting them to interfere. Nobody at Amelia Street wanted the Mayfair Police on the premises, did they? Ancient Evelyn did not like noise, or strange men. Mona's father didn't want anybody asking him questions. On and on it went. The excuses. So things rusted, and rotted and broke, and no one did anything about them. And two of the rear bathrooms hadn't worked now in years. Window sashes were broken, or painted shut. Ah, the list was endless. An evil little thought crept into Mona's head. It had almost crept into her head before, when Michael had said h...
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This note was uploaded on 02/20/2010 for the course WRITING 220.200 taught by Professor Julie during the Spring '10 term at Johns Hopkins.
- Spring '10