“Help yourselves,” Mrs. Green says. She bites into a cookie, crumbs clinging to her lips. We offer wide, placating smiles.

“Oh. No, thanks,” Elliot says.

“I’m good,” Beth chimes.

“Watching my figure.” Jackson looks away.

Mrs. Green deflates a little. I wait for someone to give in, but when no one does, I lean forward. “I’ll have one,” I say, reaching for the smallest cookie. Mrs. Green beams as I take a nibble, and when I notice a tiny crinkly hair protruding from a chocolate chip I try not to cringe.

“Mmm. Delicious,” I say. “Thank you.”

“Did you have any trouble finding the place?” Mrs. Green asks.

“Nope,” Jackson replies. “Nice plot of land you’ve got here.”

“It really is a beautiful house,” I say, rapping my knuckles against the flowered wallpaper.

“Quite a handful,” Mrs. Green says. “Used to have a maid, landscapers…but now it’s just Manuel. Part of me wants to say ‘to heck with it.’ Leave it all behind. But I bought this house with my husband, before the war. It’s the only thing I have left of his. Plus, with its history, it’s not an easy sell.”

She forces a weary laugh. Jackson gives a plastic little chuckle as he reaches into his backpack. Don’t do it, I think. Don’t be that crass. But he takes out the invoice and slides it across the table.

“Yeah, so, speaking of…um, this is what we agreed to,” he says.

“Yes.” Mrs. Green takes out her spectacles. “Of course. After the job is done. Correct?”

Jackson hesitates.

“That’s what it says on your website. Satisfaction guaranteed?”

“You found our website?” Beth asks.

“Of course,” Mrs. Green replies. “Why do you ask? Surprised I know how to surf the web?”

Beth shrugs, not sure what to say.

“I’m geriatric. Not Jurassic,” Mrs. Green says, chuckling at her own joke. We chuckle along with her.

“So, yeah. Anyway…we guarantee you’ll be satisfied,” Jackson says.

Mrs. Green nods. “My situation. It’s rather unique.”

“You said…you hear screaming?” I ask.

“The girls,” Mrs. Green says, her face darkening. “It’s been twenty-five years since we discovered what my Herman did. They never managed to find him, as you know. Sometimes I think, if only I had caught it early. He was a curious child. Prone to fits. More than once I found him spying on the girls. I just never thought…well, he’s long gone now. I tried to keep things as they were. A memorial of sorts. After my accident though, I’ve just been so tired.”

Mrs. Green pauses. Her fragile old eyes water. It’s so quiet I can hear her swallow. “That’s when the voices crept in. Just whispers at first. Then giggles and snickers. And I’d…I’d just tell myself, ‘Martha, you’re getting batty in your old age’.”