It’s good to see the old girl in this room. Leo’s relative had been in this house before. Perhaps she was acquainted with the family who’d owned it, though that would have been years and years ago. Leo’s parents had bought it for his future residence when he was but a boy, and the locals said the elderly man who’d sold it had rarely been in residence. But perhaps this lady had visited in her childhood. Perhaps she could tell the ghost story after Father left.

One by one, Katie lit the five candles that rose from the laurel-wreathed “cake plate,” the flames flickering and rising, sending beams into the corners, making shadows dance and dust motes gleam like the tiniest of fairies. The old house came alive in the night, the draperies breathing in and out, the shadowed red walls shimmering like waves.

The house creaked and moaned and whispered its memories, and a thrill rippled down Katie’s spine, as it had when Mama tucked her in with a good ghost story.

And just as then, the warm candlelight flowed around her and through her, and she felt nothing of fear. Nay, in the last quarter hour, all of her niggling fears had lifted away.

It was good to share worries.

The door latch rattled, and Richard strode in, arms loaded with a sloshing tureen. Behind him came a line of servants carrying trays.

Her heart swelled. Her servants had not let her down after all. “You see, ma’am.” Katie waved a hand at the line of servants and turned back to the woman and…

The lady was gone.