Sabrina stifled a cry. She had never imagined that strangers might actually be living in their home.
"So someone else lives here?" Daphne whispered. Sabrina could hear her own dismay echoed in her sister's voice.
Granny nodded as she pushed on the buzzer that rang their old apartment.
"Hello, who is it?" a voice crackled from a speaker.
"Um, yes, so sorry to bother you, ma'am, but my name is Relda Grimm. I'm here with my granddaughters, who used to live in your apartment."
Suddenly, a buzzer sounded and the door unlocked. The group stepped inside the building and walked down the hall to the girls' old apartment. Halfway there, they were greeted by an excited woman with huge red glasses.
"I'm so thrilled to meet you," she said.
"I hope we aren't imposing," Granny Relda said. "We were in the neighborhood."
"Nonsense, I've always wanted to meet the previous owners," the woman said, holding out her hand. "My name is Gloria Frank."
"I'm Relda Grimm. These are my granddaughters, Sabrina and Daphne… and Moth."
"Hello, peasant," Moth said, awkwardly hoisting Puck's cocoon onto her shoulder.
Gloria Frank looked confused but smiled. "Please, come in," she said, ushering them down the hall and into the apartment.
For Sabrina, stepping into the living room was a shock. Their once colorful home was now painted in drab shades of wheat. The hardwood floors had been redone, stealing all their old charm and personality, and many of the antique light fixtures had been replaced with austere, modern lamps. All of the furniture Sabrina remembered was gone. Their big puffy couch had been replaced with a sleek chocolate-brown sofa that looked more like a work of art than something to sit on. Every photograph of her family was gone. Even Daphne's finger paintings were no longer hanging on the refrigerator.
Just then, a teenage boy walked out of one of the bedrooms. He was a lanky kid wearing a rugby shirt and carrying a handheld video game. He had curly blond hair and a pair of headphones in his ears. When he saw the visitors, he took off the headphones and regarded the group curiously. "Mom? What is that awful smell?"
"His Majesty's healing vessel gives off an unusual scent but it is not by any means awful," Moth said. "You should be honored to have found its aroma in your nose, you undeserving wretch."
"I'm so sorry," Granny said, stepping between Moth and everyone else. "My granddaughter is in a play and she's been practicing her lines nonstop. Unfortunately, they're using some unusual props and she feels its best to carry one with her."
"She's a method actress. How delightful! My son is an actor, too," Mrs. Frank said as she turned to her son. "What was the last play your school did? You were incredible in it. What was it called?"
"A Midsummer Nights Dream."
"He played Puck. Do you girls know that play?"
"We're living it," Sabrina murmured as the cocoon gave off a particularly noxious blast of gas.
"Phil, these girls used to live here," Mrs. Frank said, waving her hand in front of her nose, and then seeming to realize that this might be rude, pretended to smooth her hair instead.
"Wassup?" the boy said,
"You have my old bedroom," Daphne said, quietly.
Phil raised his eyes and nodded, then put his headphones back on and wandered out of the room.
"I'm sorry. Since we bought him that game we can't get it away from him," his mother said. "Can I take your coats?
"We can't stay," Granny said. "We just wanted to come by and see who lived here now."
"Oh, we really love the apartment. I hope you think we're taking good care of it," Mrs. Frank said.
Sabrina didn't answer. She kept glancing around the room, trying to find something she recognized. The whole experience was making her dizzy.
"Mrs. Frank, there is one other thing. We were wondering if you happened to find anything in the apartment when you moved in, say, for instance, a journal or a book of stories about fairy-tale characters?" Granny said. "The girls' mother may have kept one and we'd love to get our hands on it."
"Oh, we found a few things when we redid the kitchen and the closets," the woman said. She rushed out of the room and returned with an old shoebox. "My husband told me I was crazy to keep this stuff. He says I'm a pack rat, but they seemed personal and, well, it felt wrong to throw them out."
Sabrina took the box and flipped open the lid. Inside were a few yellowing love letters their father had written their mother, some scattered pictures of Sabrina and Daphne in the bathtub when they were little, and a ladies' wallet with pink roses sewn on the front.
"No journal," Daphne said with a sigh.
"Oh, dear, it's not here," their grandmother said. "Do you think you might have overlooked it?" she said to Mrs. Frank.
Gloria Frank shook her head. "We did a lot of work on this place when we moved in. If there were a journal, we would have found it. I'm sorry."
"Well, we appreciate you hanging onto these things," Granny said. "We should probably be going."