“There’s only one way to find out.”
I give him privacy, moving to the bookshelf over by the reading area. Mixed in with the books and collectibles are family photos: my parents at what looks like their wedding, my mother pregnant, the three of us girls at various ages. In every single photo, we’re laughing or smiling.
“Man, we look happy.”
Asher steps against my back and hugs me from behind. “Some people have happy childhoods. That wasn’t my experience, but I’m told it happens.”
Before I can say anything, the doorbell chimes.
Asher straightens. “Are we expecting company?”
“In the childhood home that I have no memory of? No. Do you think it’s Blue Eyes?”
The bell rings again, and we exchange glances.
“Maybe if we ignore them, they’ll go away.” Asher moves over to the window to look out, but I already know he won’t see anything because of the wide porch across the front of the house.
The bell rings a third time, followed by sharp knocking.
“It doesn’t sound like they’ll go away.” I head for the stairs. “Come on.”
We hurry downstairs, and I can see a woman’s silhouette through the stained-glass panels beside the front door.
I open the door to find a woman in her sixties with steel-gray hair pulled back in a tight bun and small, beady eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses. She’s wearing a floral housedressand cushioned flat shoes, and when she looks up at us, her smile doesn’t reach her eyes.
“Well, hello there.” Her gaze sweeps over us, taking in first me and then Asher towering behind me. “I’m Margaret Pinehurst from across the road. I saw lights on over here and thought I just better get over here and check things out.”
“You just better?” I repeat slowly.
“Oh yes, dear. This house has been empty for years. So when I saw lights on...” She cranes her neck, trying to see past us into the house. “Who are you exactly? And why are you here?”
Asher tenses beside me, but I don’t let the judgy edge to her voice bother me. We’ve been shunned and shamed by the best of them, and I’m immune. “We got in late last night. We’re here visiting for a bit.”
“Visiting.” Margaret’s eyebrows climb toward her hairline. “And you have permission to be here, I assume? Some sort of identification?”
My jaw tightens as I realize that even if I wanted to prove who we are to this woman, we have nothing with us. We were at a party in our own building. The only things we had with us were our phones.
But, in truth, I wouldn’t show her our identification even if we did have it. “Why would we need to show you identification? This isn’t a traffic stop. And you aren’t with the police.”
She stiffens. “Now, listen here, young lady. We have a nice, quiet street, and I do my best to look out for trouble. No one comes to Hallowind House for a casual visit. Especially not after what happened.”
I cross my arms over my chest and pull a breath into heavy lungs. “Why? What happened?”
Her gaze narrows. “That just proves you don’t belong here. Everyone knows what happened.” She takes a step back. “I think I will call the police, and I’ll let them straighten you out.”
I laugh in her face. “Go ahead. Tell them that Poppy Hallowind would like to speak to them about a nosy neighbor harassing her in her own home.” The words come out sharper than I intend, but I don’t care.
Margaret’s mouth opens and closes like a fish. “You’re one of the Hallowind girls?”
“That’s right.” Well, I’m assuming that’s right. I’m pretty sure.
The woman huffs, clearly flustered. “How could I have known who you are? No one’s been to this house since your parents blew themselves up. You can’t blame me for not realizing.”
The words hit me like a physical blow, and Asher’s hand immediately finds my shoulder. “Blew themselves up?”
“That’s what they say. Why wouldn’t you know what happened?”
“I, uh… blocked out everything about that time and was raised out of state. I’ve come back to find out about my past.”
