“He mentioned something about it, but Lia, you can’t trust everyone,” she said, her voice soft.
“And not everyone is out to get you.” I kept my voice equally quiet.
“Yes. Well.” My mother stood a little taller. “I’ll show this to your father, but keep your ears open.” She turned back toward the east wing. “We need to get the beds made up. Mellie said she wants to sleep with you.” As soon as Mom had mentioned Mellie, the worry crease between her eyes deepened.
“Mom, no.” I tried to sound firm. After Phoebe had died, Mellie slept in my bed for six months before getting strong enough to face her bedroom alone. “She’s a bed hog.”
“I know, sweetheart, but you’ve got a big bed. And Mellie loves the princess stories you tell her.” Mom patted my cheek. “She’ll get used to this place soon enough.”
Right. I sighed but didn’t argue.
“Gabbie, where are you?” Dad’s shout came from the family wing.
“Coming.” Mom shouted back and then mumbled, “We need an intercom system.” She’d only taken a step before she spun on her heels and gave me a hard look. “The game is afoot, and we have to find out what’s behind it.”
Dad called again, and she hurried off.
Sherlock Holmes quotes and ghosts. Perfect.
