“But they didn’t find it.”
Erielle shook her head. “This thought just popped in my head. I don’t know if I’m right. But it just makes sense to me.”
Sam reached for the top left painting and flipped it over. Not even any paper on the back, like the first painting had had. Erielle frowned, and removed the bottom right painting. Same as Sam’s. No backing. None of them had anything hidden on the back. Maybe she was wrong.
But Sam didn’t let her despair. He helped her climb over the desk and back into the light of the library, only to hesitate at the bottom of the stairs.
“Maybe we should go back in and make another of these,” he said, dangling the bag from his fingers.
“I don’t know how. Do you?”
“No. I watched her, but I don’t know what she used, or how much.”
“You stay here. I’ll go,” she offered again, really hoping he wouldn’t take her up on it, because man, was Millicent having a tantrum.
“No,” he replied, and took her hand to march up the stairs.
The painting in the bedroom nearest the attic had a paper backing, but when Erielle ripped it open, nothing was there. Same with the one in her grandparents’ room, and the room that had been her aunt’s.
“One last chance,” Erielle said, standing at the door to her room.
This time she didn’t bother taking off her shoes before she stepped onto the air mattress. She wobbled a bit at the unevenness of the surface, but managed to grab the painting. Sam reached across to take it from her so she could get off the mattress unencumbered, and he carried it over to the dresser.
“You do the honors,” he said.
When she gripped the brown paper backing, all the door banging stopped.
The bell over the door of the cafe clanged tonelessly as Erielle shoved the door open, red book gripped against her chest.
Behind the pass-through bar, Hattie rose on her toes to peer out. Her eyes flicked from Sam to the book in Erielle’s arms, and a clatter followed before she pushed through the swinging door from the kitchen.
“You found it,” she said, her tone oddly flat.
“Behind the painting in my bedroom,” Erielle said, and glanced around the empty place before she set the book down on the counter. Her fingers trembled as she opened it to see what she now recognized as her grandmother’s handwriting. This time, however, she could read what was written. “Millicent was not happy. She was throwing a royal tantrum when we got to the house.”
“What do you mean?” Hattie asked.
“Opening and closing doors, every light in the house on. She got quiet when we found it, though.”
“Very strange,” Hattie murmured, touching the edge of the book.
“Do you have the journal? Can we translate it?”
Hattie snapped her head around to look at Erielle. “I don’t have the journal. I left it in the house. On the table.” Her voice softened at the end, trailing off, like she was remembering something.
Erielle was already shaking her head. “It’s not there. We looked.” She motioned between her and Sam. “We thought maybe you took it to try to translate it.”
“I…didn’t.” Hattie glanced across the street. “Maybe Allison did?”
Erielle followed her gaze. She doubted it. Allison was too cautious to take something without asking.
“I’ll go check,” Sam said, and loped across the street to the shop, which didn’t appear to be open yet. Of course it wasn’t. It wasn’t even nine in the morning. Erielle watched Sam knock on the glass door and wait, his energy visible from here.
“Vibe’s different, there,” Hattie said.
Erielle didn’t want to announce the change in their relationship to the world. She’d barely had time to acknowledge it herself. “Yes,” was all she said, and hoped that Hattie respected the answer.
Of course, of anyone Erielle knew, Hattie would understand playing her cards close to the vest.
