“I think it’s about to get a lot colder.” Her gaze met mine. “Do you feel it?” Her voice was barely louder than a hush.
I nodded. “I hear lots of voices, but I think that’s just because we’re both here and we’re acting as a portal for lost spirits. But there are two strong presences—although there might be more. It’s just that they’re overshadowed by these other two.”
My mother nodded and stared at the staircase just as a flash of white disappeared around the corner of the landing, followed by the very faint sound of running feet. Very slowly and deliberately, Ginette began to remove her gloves finger by finger. “I feel them. One is gentle; almost sweet, I think.” She turned to me, her eyes wide. “She wants to show us something. She’s the one who wants our help.”
I nodded. “I think I just saw her. Running up the stairs.”
“You can see now?”
“Yes,” I said with some relief. “Like I said, it comes and goes. But nothing’s blocking me now.”
Her lips pressed together in a grim line. “Button loved this house. It’s so sad to see it this way.” She spun around, taking in the holes in the plaster and the warped wooden floor planks. “I guess it was more than she could handle as she got older.” Her forehead creased. “I wonder why she didn’t leave the lake house to Jayne instead of this one.”
“The lake house? Amelia mentioned Button’s family had one, but I assumed it was sold or something, because it wasn’t part of the estate as far as I know.”
She nodded, her head tilted back to see the gaping hole where a Baccarat chandelier had been removed and now sat in a corner covered with an oilcloth. “Well, the Pinckney family owned a house on a lake, not too far from Birmingham—that’s where Jayne’s from, right? Lake Jasper, I believe. In Alabama. I used to go up there for weeks at a time during the summers with Button and her family. The house had actually been designed and constructed by Anna’s father’s company. That’s how the families met, I believe.” She smiled to herself, her expression blurred with memories. “The Pinckneys must have let it go at some point. It’s a shame, really. It wasn’t as grand as this place, but it was cozy and beautiful, and right on the lake. We spent many happy times there. Jayne might have found it easier to be at home there instead of in a place like this.”
“Unless it’s as old as this place,” I said, only half joking. “I’ll ask Jayne—maybe her lawyers mentioned it. If not, we’ll just have to assume that it was sold years ago.”
I led the way upstairs, feeling someone watching us, someone waiting. For what, I wasn’t sure. All I knew was that it knew we could sense it, could tell that we knew it was coiled and waiting to spring. Probably knew that I was petrified and on edge. And for a brief moment, I wondered why I’d thought that losing my psychic abilities would be such a bad thing.
We paused in the upstairs hallway, my mother looking down the hall toward a closed door. “Can I go see Button’s room? I don’t think I’ve been in there since we graduated from Ashley Hall.”
I nodded, saddened to think Button had spent the last years of her life in this bedroom, and her whole life in this house, unable to live a life beyond it. She had stayed behind to take care of her mother, and then her sister-in-law, and then had died here, alone.
I pushed open the door, half expecting to see the doll sitting in the rocking chair, then let out a breath when I saw it was empty. The room had an almost tangible occupied air. Although it was vacant, it was almost as if someone had just made the bed, or brushed her hair, and then left, expecting to return shortly. And maybe she had.
“Oh, look at this,” Ginette said. She stood by the dresser, where the tarnished silver frames held photos of loved ones who now stared out into the empty room.
I moved to stand next to her. “You probably know a lot of these people.”
She nodded, then pointed to the one of her with Amelia and Button in their Ashley Hall uniforms, careful not to touch it. “I can’t believe she kept this. I probably have the same photo somewhere—most likely in the bottom of a shoe box.”
I looked at the photo of Button with the handsome young man beside her at her debut. “Is this Sumter?”
A sad, almost painful expression crossed her face. “Yes. He was so good-looking, wasn’t he? And so funny, too. Not to mention charming. Jack reminds me a little of him, actually.” She sighed. “I never expected this house to be empty, without Button, or Sumter, or at least their children. We can’t always plan our lives, can we?”