“That tastes dreadful,” she murmured, placing her cup back on the table. “We should call for a fresh pot.” She looked around, as though expecting a maid to step out of one of the walls.

“Leave the servants alone; the tea is fine. In fact, I think it’s quite good.” It was a silly lie, but Dorothy was feeling contrary. She took another careful sip of her own tea, sucking her lips in so she wouldn’t inadvertently grimace. Her mother gave her a look of utter disdain, clearly not falling for it.

Swallowing, Dorothy said, “So, I take it you were watching?”

“Your little stunt out in the field?” Loretta lifted an eyebrow. “Yes, I was watching. You and that man seemed to have appeared out of thin air, clouds of smoke billowing around you. How very exciting.”

There was a catch to her voice, as though all of this were an elaborate prank, but there was something complicated happening behind her eyes. Dorothy felt her mouth twitch. No matter what her mother said, she could tell that Loretta’s curiosity was getting the better of her.

“You still don’t believe me?” Dorothy asked, working hard to keep the smile from touching her lips.

Loretta only stared at her. Looking back at her mother, Dorothy remembered a story she often told, of attending a séance with the Fox sisters long before Dorothy was born. The Fox sisters were the most famous mediums of the nineteenth century, and they’d managed to con most of the country, claiming they could communicate with the dead through mysterious knocks and raps. But Loretta had noticed that the noises these “ghosts” were supposed to be responsible for only came when the sisters’ feet were on the floor, or when their dresses were in contact with the table. She confronted the women after her séance was over and was given a stack of cash to keep her mouth shut.

Thinking of this story now, Dorothy found herself unable to suppress a grin. It must be killing her mother that she couldn’t explain how Dorothy was doing the things she was doing.

After a moment, Loretta said, “What exactly do you plan to do now?”

With that, any semblance of a smile dropped from Dorothy’s mouth. What now? How could she begin to answer that question?

She thought of the Fairmont, half-flooded, with its ruined carpets and lovely columns. She thought of Zora and Willis and Chandra, and the horrible future that awaited them. Blackened sky. No sun. A lump formed in her throat. She thought of Roman, dear Roman, who hadn’t deserved to die the way he did. All alone in a bleak and terrible future.