“You should do this,” I repeat.
“Nothing is decided yet. I’ll need to be sure it’s okay with Harry . . . and your grandmother, I guess. But I wanted to discuss it with you first, because if you don’t want me to go, I’ll tell them no deal.”
“It will be fine, Mom. This will be a busy year for me. I’ll have Dad, Katherine, and Connor around if I need them—and you and I can video chat, email, text. It’s not like you’re going to Mars. And this opportunity was tailor-made for you.” All of that, especially the last part, is totally honest, so I don’t have to struggle to look like I’m telling the truth.
She holds my gaze for a long time before responding. “And you’re not saying this because you know that I really want to do it? Like I said, I can probably get a deferral.”
“Mom, go! Live a little. Embrace your academic destiny.”
That earns me a laugh, and I can tell she’s relieved but also still conflicted. Which guarantees that she’ll be asking me these same questions up until, and possibly well after, she arrives in Italy, so I need to keep my game face on.
It’s nearly ten when we get back to Katherine’s. Mom decided we should celebrate with a bit of shopping. So there’s a new pair of leggings and a gorgeous red sundress in the bag I’m carrying as I swing my feet out of the little rental car. Mom even bought a few dresses for herself, and she’s normally as much of a jeans-and-T-shirts sort of girl as I am.
“You’re sure you don’t want to come in? Everyone is still awake. Connor’s actually a nice guy. You could tell them about the research trip, and you could meet Daphne . . .”
“Maybe next time. It’s late.”
“Katherine doesn’t bite, you know, or at least not often. You’re just afraid you might actually like your mother if you gave her a chance. So . . . I’m pretty sure I’m going to have to call chicken.”
“Ahem. Thin ice, Kate. And I really do need to get the car back before I owe for an extra hour.”
I shake my head. “Just be sure to clear all of the feathers out of the car, or else they’ll charge you extra.”
She snorts. “You are so like your father. Get in the house before I run you over.”
“Threatening to run someone over with a Cooper really isn’t a credible threat, Mom. You should rent a Hummer next time. Love you!”
I had mixed feelings about her coming in tonight anyway. Trey called while I was in the dressing room. I didn’t answer but sent him a quick text saying I’d call him as soon as I got back to the house. That was over an hour ago, and my stomach has been doing little flip-flops ever since.
I kick my shoes off and stack them in the closet in the foyer. The living room is empty, so I’m guessing Dad is either asleep or out with Sara, and Katherine and Connor are probably in their rooms. Hopefully, I can slip upstairs unnoticed. Katherine was moderately grumpy about me going out when we had work to do, and I suspect I’m still on her list for the smart remark when Trey was here.
No such luck. I’m halfway to my room when Katherine sticks her head out of the library on the second floor. “Kate, I’m glad you’re home, dear. Did you have a good time with Deborah?”
“I did. She said to tell you hello.” Which isn’t true, but I’m going to pretend that Mom just forgot to say it. “I’m just—I’m going to sleep now.”
“Okay. I was just wondering whether you learned anything from the diary?”
I shake my head. “Not really. It was just starting to get interesting when Mom called. I do know that I was in Chicago with you and Connor—not sure about Dad. Mom’s off on some sort of research trip.”
I watch Katherine’s expression to see if it changes when I mention Mom going on a trip, but she just smiles. “Chicago. I’m not too surprised. It’s a wonderful city if you know which years to avoid. Well, get some sleep so that you can get back at it bright and early, okay?”
After saying good night to Katherine, I hang up the new dress and stash the leggings in a drawer. Then I change into a nightshirt and curl up on the couch to call Trey.
No answer. I start to leave a message, but then I notice that he left a voice mail for me earlier, and I decide I should listen to that first.
“Hey, Kate. Just a quick call to say we arrived . . . and I . . . uh . . . are you going to this barbecue thing the Saturday before school starts? I’m guessing not, because it says new students—Briar Hill and Carrington Day. Anyway, it says RSVP and number of guests, which probably means they expect parents, but neither of mine can make it, and I kind of need to go. It’s also a farewell party for this guy who taught both Dad and Granddad, and I promised them I’d stop in and say hello, or goodbye, I guess. I’m sure it’ll be hideously boring, but it would be a lot more fun if you were there. So . . . um . . . just let me know, okay?”
I suspect he’s right about the hideously boring part, but he could invite me over to help clean out his refrigerator—a chore I truly detest—and I’d still agree in a heartbeat.
So I call again. When he still doesn’t answer, I leave a message saying, yes, I’d love to go.
As I get up to plug my phone into the charger, a glint of light outside the window catches my eye. At first, I think it’s a CHRONOS key, because the light has a bluish tint, but it’s not the right shade. It’s just the street lamps, their light already kind of blue, reflecting off the top of that blue van, which is parked in the same spot it was yesterday.
The view from my window is just treetops—a big expanse of green. It’s the thing I like best about this room. I like seeing the trees when I wake up, and seeing the moon and stars at night reminds me of the skylight in my room at the townhouse, so I’ve always left the curtains open.
But now as I stare out at the van, I have that same creepy feeling of being watched . . . which is stupid. Seeing the van parked in the same place could just as easily confirm that it belongs to the neighbors. It doesn’t mean we’re being watched.
I close the curtains anyway.
∞5∞
The smoke stings my nose and throat as I run through the hallway, panicked, the fingers of one hand trailing against the wall to keep from losing my way in the pitch-black maze. I glance behind me, and the man with the lantern is still coming, and he’s moving a lot faster than I am. It’s like I’m running through Jell-O.
In my other hand, the CHRONOS key is activated, but it’s speeding through dozens of stable points so quickly that I can’t lock on to anything. As Holmes gets closer, I see the gun in his hand, and then there’s this burst of flames, red and gold, barreling straight toward me. Just as they reach me, they morph into a cascade of autumn leaves, falling around my face.
I bolt upright and look around for a minute, disoriented, then fall back onto my pillow, rubbing my eyes. The dreams have been coming a little less often in the past few weeks, and although my heart is still pounding, at least it’s not the same blind panic I felt the first few times sleep dragged me back to the World’s Fair Hotel. And the whole flames-turning-into-leaves thing is a strange, new addition.
This is the first time I’ve had two nightmares in a single night, however. The first dream woke me up around two fifteen. I was so wired after that one that I went upstairs and beat the hell out of the punching bag, until I was so exhausted that I assumed I’d get nice, peaceful dream-free sleep. But apparently I was wrong.
A gentle rain is falling outside, and I watch the drops trickle down the window as I focus on pulling in slow, steady breaths until my pulse returns to normal. I have almost half an hour before my alarm is set to go off, and I’m tempted to yank the quilt back over my head, but I know I won’t be able to fall asleep. It’s partly the dream but also because I smell bacon. And, if I’m not mistaken, blueberry pancakes.