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The porch boards creaked beneath my boots as I reached the door and knocked.

Nothing happened.

I waited, listening to the wind moving through the oak overhead.

Then I knocked again.

Sienna looked up at me.

“Maybe she’s asleep.”

“Maybe.”

I knew better. Goldie had reports to finish and a drive to Chicago tomorrow. She was probably packing or working, and I couldn’t blame her if she didn’t want to answer the door.

I knocked a third time, then stepped back.

A moment later, a light appeared in the front room.

I heard footsteps.

The door opened.

Goldie stood on the other side wearing jeans and a soft sweater, her curls loosely gathered away from her face. Her eyes were red, and she held a crumpled tissue in one hand.

Seeing her like that hurt worse than I’d expected.

Behind her, the small dining table was covered with folders and papers. An open suitcase sat near the hallway, with neatly folded clothes stacked beside it.

Her gaze moved from me to Sienna.

For a moment, she simply stared.

Then her mouth fell open.

“Oh my goodness, Sienna!”

My daughter straightened proudly.

“I’m the Bride of Frankenstein!”

“I can see that!” Goldie stepped closer, studying the makeup and towering hair. “Look at you! Those stitches are incredible. And your hair!”

Sienna grinned.

“Dad helped me make it. We used makeup for the scars, and he showed me how to make the shadows look real. I did some of it myself.”

Goldie looked at me.

I could see the surprise in her expression, but she didn’t say anything immediately.

Instead, she turned back to Sienna.

“You did a beautiful job. Your drawing must’ve been a terrific guide.”

“It was. Dad looked at my sketchbook too.”

Goldie’s gaze returned to mine.