As if to prove a point, Wally’s ears perk upward, the tips of his scraggly ear hairs rising from the nearly empty mug of coffee in answer to some unseen call. He stays completely still for about a second before bolting to the stairs, a streak of murky gray lightning that no photographer in the world has a prayer of capturing.

A moment later, there’s an awful lot of barking and shouting downstairs. I recognize Valerie’s voice straightaway, rising above the hubbub in swooping tones of disapproval, and Alex’s, exasperated but laughing. I hurriedly stuff the rest of the pastry in my mouth and make my way downstairs, eager to see Endsley.

“Amelia, dear, you’re awake. I hope you slept well.”

“Thank you,” I say. I let my eyes run across the store, but he’s not here.

Alex’s forced smile slips down his face when he sees my search.

“He’s usually pretty busy during the week,” he says. Nobody needs clarification on who he is. “He doesn’t like much company, to be honest. I am sorry about his behavior last night, though.”

So. Endsley didn’t bother to talk to Alex about our Orman room discussion.

“But when I talked to him again last night, he said we—”

“Again?” Valerie interrupts. “You mean you spoke last night? Beyond your introduction, in which he was abominably rude?”

“Yeah,” I say. “I went to get some water and I may have wandered. He said we could meet today…”

Maybe, my brain interrupts. He said maybe.

Valerie turns toward Alex in astonishment. “Alexander, did you know about this?”

Alex looks between us doubtfully as he rearranges a weighty messenger bag on his shoulder.

“I didn’t know they spoke last night, if that’s what you mean.”

“Well, of course that’s what I mean. Where is he today?”

Alex runs a hand through his curls, eyes closed. “I don’t know.” It’s almost a whine. “There’s not enough time left for me to get everything ready for the summer bazaar as it—”

“Alexander, it is important for that boy to be encouraged in the social arena at every opportunity. Now, where is he?”

Another odd look is exchanged and I’m once again a living set piece, something that will participate when needed but is otherwise ignored.

I watch the silent conversation unfold. Valerie tilts her head the slightest bit and turns her palm upward by her side. This is unusual. Alex shrugs with an almost imperceptible lift of his shoulders and blinks twice. Yes, but you’re the one who says he should be encouraged. A not-so-subtle head swing in my direction. But do we trust her?

“It’s Wednesday. Fort day, isn’t that right?” Valerie says, to me, I think, though she is still looking at Alex. “Alexander will take you.”