Dorothy thought it best to let the Professor and Ash have a moment alone. She backed away as the two men embraced, feeling like she was invading on something very personal, a reunion between a father and son rather than a teacher and student, for instance. When she saw that she would not be missed, she darted through a door and down the hall.

She wandered Avery’s house for a while, at a loss as to where to go. This place had never felt like home to her, not even in the weeks leading up to her wedding when she and her mother had lived here. It had a museum-like quality to it, the ceilings soaring above her, the walls all ornately papered in the most expensive oriental fabrics, the floors and trim gleaming with fresh polish, even though Dorothy had never actually seen anyone dust or mop them. Even the furniture was over-the-top, lavish, intricate. Settees covered in velvet, elaborately stitched cushions, tables carved with tiny animals and flowers. It was too much, and Dorothy was surprised to feel a sharp ache of homesickness as she walked through the halls now.

She thought of decaying, brocade walls and waterlogged carpets, the top of a domed skylight peeking out from below the black waves. Her hotel. Her real home.

She found herself entering the sitting room, which had always been . . . well, it seemed disingenuous to call it her favorite room in Avery’s house, but it was at least a room she didn’t actively despise. It was small and narrow, with heavy, velvet drapes and thick carpets that made it feel a bit like a child’s fort, almost like it had been built entirely of blankets and pillows. And there was the fact that Avery rarely came in here. Always a plus.

A teapot and several cups were laid out on a small table near the love seat, probably her mother’s leftover service from that morning, Dorothy realized. It was likely cold by now, but Dorothy poured herself a cup, anyway. Caffeine was caffeine, and she hadn’t gotten a proper night’s sleep in she didn’t know how long. She stirred in a few spoonfuls of sugar and sunk onto the sofa, thinking of the Fairmont. It had truly been the only place in her life that had actually felt like a home. Would she ever be able to go back again? she wondered.

She took a sip of cold, bitter tea.

“Well,” said her mother’s voice, from directly behind her. “That was quite a show you put on.”

Dorothy cringed and nearly swallowed the tea wrong. She forced herself to return her cup and saucer to the table beside her before turning to find her mother standing in the sitting room doorway.

Loretta swept into the room and took the seat beside Dorothy’s. She poured herself a cup of tea as well and grimaced as she drank.