Who lives in the mansion on the corner?
Ms. Wilson hobbles from room to room, remembering the days of glittering gowns, crisp tuxedos, brass bands and flowing champagne. They called her Miss Amelia back then, and she had her choice of any one of them. Her father liked the banker because he came from a suitable family and would properly manage their wealth. Her mother preferred the actor, who was handsome and sure to be a star. Her best friend since childhood, poor, plain Mariam, said to choose her heart’s desire.
Nobody could understand how Amelia Wilson, THE Amelia Wilson, ended up alone. They knew that Mrs. Wilson ran off with the actor and Mr. Wilson drank himself to death. They knew that Miss Amelia, that generous, grieving soul, offered poor Mariam Fairchild a living within the residence. Years passed. Amelia and Mariam became Ms. Wilson and Ms. Fairchild, the spinsters in the mansion on the corner.
Amelia hobbles to the kitchen table where Mariam is pouring tea with a shaky hand. Amelia sits by the window that overlooks the terrace. Sometimes a few of the folks from those days come by. They point to the mansion and remember everything they knew. What they never knew never crossed their minds. What they never knew was that all those years ago, Amelia chose Mariam.