“YOU DON’T EVER WANT TO TALK WITH YOUR MOTHER?” Gretchen asked as they drove back out along the country road, somber and tired, the car making noises as if it were about to expire.
“I talk to my mother all the time,” Hope said. “She just never answers back.”
“You know what I mean, ask one of the spiritualists to contact her.”
“I know my mother,” Hope said. “If she had any choice in the matter she would have moved on.”
“All those people,” Gretchen said. “Trapped.”
“I kinda like you better as Esther,” Hope said, grinning. “Let’s go over the facts. We know now it was Celia and Rebecca’s Communion. We know that for some reason the parishioners were deliberately shut in the church, the girls specifically, but why?”
“This morning,” Gretchen said, “back at the house, Celia told me she started the fire.”
“I know, but that makes no sense,” Hope said, turning away from the wheel long enough to give her an incredulous look.
“She said she wanted to fix the house ‘the way we fixed the church.’ Then she said ‘we started the fire.’”
“I don’t know if I believe it,” Hope said. “They say all kinds of crazy things just to upset people. They’re very mean and angry girls.”
“Ghosts,” Gretchen corrected.
Hope switched on the headlights, but only one of them turned on.
“Their Communion was used as a reason to get a big crowd in that church,” Hope said. “Someone was sending a message with the girls, but why?”
“They had the same blood in their veins,” Gretchen said. Quoting Annie, quoting Fidelia.
Hope looked at her, raised her eyebrows and Gretchen felt goose bumps break out on her arms.
“So you and I are cousins,” Hope said.
“I had read in some of Fidelia’s journals,” Getchen said, “about her friend Valerie Green and how her mother didn’t want her to spend time with her.”
“Must have been afraid people would see the resemblance,” Hope said. “Even though Fidelia’s family could pass for white. But Valerie’s death should have meant the end of my family line if I’m descended directly from her. I’m assuming her husband was in the church too, unless he escaped.”
“And Green was her maiden name,” Gretchen said. “You must be descended from one of her sisters or brothers.”
“Which means we share a grandmother somewhere down the line,” Hope said. “Just like Fidelia and Valerie. It’s a small world, city mouse.”
Hope reached over and squeezed her hand. “These are the best leads as we’ve had,” Hope said. “We need to get back and into those journals, get into my mother’s files.”
As they pulled into the driveway of the Greens’ house they could see that every light was on in the house, and that twangy, plunky music Hawk loved was wafting out the open windows and screen door.
“Great,” Hope said. “We’re gone a few hours and our research assistant decides to have a party.”
The smell greeted them as soon as they walked in and it lifted Gretchen’s spirits more than she could have imagined. “Simon,” she whispered to herself.
“Hel-lo?” he called, and then walked into the living room, beautifully himself in a pair of black skinny jeans and thin black-and-white striped T-shirt, his dyed red hair tastefully spiked with longer bangs falling in front of his face. “Look at you. You look like you’ve just seen a ghost!” he laughed, with his mocking, over-the-top drama. “Oh, not funny, not funny, I know.” He winked. “You must be Hope,” he said, taking Hope’s hand. Then he leaned over and gave Gretchen a big kiss. He wrapped her up for a moment in his arms and held her close to his chest.
“You look exhausted. What’s happened to your face? You need to get some ice on that swelling. We’re going to eat, and then we’re going to get you out of here,” he whispered.
“Simon, no . . . we’ve got to—”
“Don’t argue,” he said. “We’ll discuss it when you’ve had a real meal. I brought us takeout from Momofuku. Come in the kitchen.”
The fact that Simon had made a detour to pick up takeout before his car service trek across the state was so like him it made Gretchen grin.
Hawk was already at the table and had clearly finished a plate of something wonderful. He had an amazed and sated look on his face. “I can’t believe this kind of food even exists,” he said, looking meaningfully at his sister.
She rolled her eyes. “Is this really the time to be stuffing our faces?”