She stepped through into, well, she wasn’t sure. There was probably some formal name for the large entryway lined with ancient swords and suits of armour, but as far as she was concerned, once you’d seen one shiny helmet, you’d seen them all.

“May I take your jacket?” Vic asked, with her ever-impeccable manners, and suddenly Sophia couldn’t stifle the urge to shake up the script a bit.

“Only if you promise to toss it somewhere casual and not hang it neatly in some coat check you people use for guests of state.”

Victoria’s smile quirked, but in response she only extended her hand, as if upping the ante.

She slipped off the light summer jacket and handed it over, amused when Vic accepted the garment and immediately draped it over the shield of the closest suit of armour. “There. Chuck will hold it for you.”

“Chuck?”

“Unofficial name of course,” Vic confided as they started toward the stairs. “There’s Hank and Buck, and there at the end is Sal. She’s a woman but a bit of a tomboy, and we’re all for letting our knights self-identify here.”

She smiled. She couldn’t help it. Not only had Vic accepted her subtle challenge to silliness, she’d taken the game a step further.

“My little sister, Lizzie, had a real thing for Hank when she was about 11,” Vic continued as they ascended to the second floor, “but I suspect Sal was my mind’s earliest inkling of something amiss.”

“Did you want to be Sal, or date her?”

She sighed dramatically. “That’s the million-dollar question. I’ll let you know if I ever find a definitive answer.”

The little hint of something wistful and almost tired undercut the playfulness of the comment, but before she got the chance to pry, Vic turned another corner and gestured for Sophia to precede her into the formal dining room she’d nearly forgotten she was here to inspect.

Vic pulled out a chair, because of course she did, and assured Sophia she’d return shortly.

Then she disappeared, which seemed odd given her usual state of constant attentiveness. Still, it gave Sophia a chance to survey the room more fully. That afternoon she’d noted things like the size and scope of the windows, and the space between the walls and the table, but between her eye for camera angles and the unsettling aspects of Vic’s proximity, she’d failed to notice the finer details. For instance, the high-back chairs appeared hand carved, and each ornate place setting had about twelve utensils and several glasses. That is to say every place setting except for two, the one in front of her and the one at the corner to her left. Those were each set with a single plate and fork atop a plain, white linen napkin.