“Now we’re twins,” I said, laughing.
“Adorable,” Nancy said. “But—”
“One more,” I said. I rolled up my sleeve and looked down at the ugly pink burn scar on my forearm. I imagined it gone, and just like that, it was. My forearm looked like it had never been touched by fire.
“Wow,” I said. “Iamdangerous.”
“It’s nice,” Nancy said, “but I like you just the way you are.”
“So do I. Just because I can change things in stories doesn’t mean I should,” I said.
The scar was back and so was my dark hair.
“Unbelievable,” I breathed, then looked at Nancy. “But why didn’t my mother tell me all this? Leave me a note?”
Nancy smiled sadly at me.
“She tried, didn’t she?” I said. “Of course she did. The book itself was the note. Right? Except Pops did hop into the book back then. He told me he did. He looked around to see if my mother had left a secret message for me, but he didn’t find anything.”
“I was gone on a case,” Nancy said. “He only spoke to Hannah and Dad, and they’d already been charmed to forget your mother. If I’d seen him, I would have told him—”
“No,” I said. “It was supposed to be me. My mother wantedmeto come into the story and meet you. I could’ve figured this out years ago, but I was so angry at her for leaving me nothing but a book…”
“It’s not your fault you misunderstood—”
“Itismy fault. I’m as bad as the Burners, angry at a book when it was my own failure of imagination to understand what it was trying to tell me.”
Nancy took my hand, squeezed it. “Come upstairs. I want to show you something. It’ll make you feel better.”
Upstairs was Nancy’s bedroom—pin-neat, of course. Pretty floral wallpaper and a brass bed with a white quilt. A few books. Fresh flowers in a vase. White lace curtains. The dream bedroom of your average 1930s gal.
But also…under the bed, an old suitcase. Nancy knelt down and pulled it out. Together we hefted it onto the bed.
She opened it and revealed some clothes neatly packed away in tissue paper—dresses, shoes, gloves, hats. A few books withEllerywritten on the title pages.
“My mother’s things,” I said. “How?”
I pored over every little treasure.
“I was more than ready when Dr. Fanshawe showed up at our house. I had a plan in place to make sure she didn’t charm me as well. I hid all your mother’s things away. You can hide anything in a book, you know. Tuck it between the lines, and no one but the most astute reader will notice it…”
She pulled a handkerchief from the suitcase and ran her fingers over the initials embroidered at the corner.
E.V.D.
Ellery Viola Drew.
She pressed it to her chest over her heart, then held it out to me.
“You should have this,” she said. “I made this for her. A wedding gift. She carried it every day.”
My hand trembled as I took it from her.
“A handkerchief embroidered for my mother by Nancy Drew,” I said. “For her wedding to Carson Drew…”
“I never knew my mother’s name,” Nancy said softly, as if afraid of her own heartbreak. “Did you know that? In all the books, the authors never gave her a name.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
