Sensing that Lavinia needed the company, as her infamous fiancé was in New Jersey giving a performance of his flamboyantly Gothic show, Clara invited her friend over for dinner. Though she was not much in a mood to entertain anyone, her heart heavy and conflicted, the distraction of a female friend might do her a bit of good. When they exited the trolley car a few blocks from Pearl Street, the gas lamps were beginning to be lit, The electrical lights, however, were misbehaving. Sparks flew everywhere. If there was anything electrical, be it wiring or lighting, residential or commercial, anything along Pearl Street, including Edison’s dynamos, was sparking like some sort of firecracker. “Now what does one suppose this is all about?” Lavinia breathed. “Haven’t the slightest,” Clara whispered in turn. People were running along the street; flapping frock coats, lifted petticoats, hats askew. A fire had started in a building not far from the Eterna office. Part of Clara wouldn’t mind seeing the Eterna office burn, but even as she thought that, a rush of nostalgia for the building proved once again that her mind and heart often existed at odds.
