It was a serious accusation, and unfortunately, she had no proof that Grace had intended her any harm. But she was grateful that the woman was going home later that day. She hoped never to see her again.

When Pat finished her business in the bathroom, she returned to the adjoining hallway. Grace’s bedroom door was closed, darkness at the bottom edge.

Perhaps the eccentric old fool had gone back to bed.

Then Pat heard a creaking noise coming from the catwalk. She stepped forward to take a closer look.

Dim light filtered up to the second floor from a small lamp located somewhere downstairs. But she saw the source of the sound.

Grace was on the catwalk. But she was not on the floor. She appeared, for a moment, to be walking on air.

I can’t be seeing this.

Pat removed her glasses, rubbed her eyes, put her lenses back on.

Grace was on the catwalk’s wrought-iron railing. Arms outstretched, she crept forward like a skilled gymnast on a balance beam, deftly placing one slippered foot in front of the other. It was at least a twenty-foot plunge to the floor below, but the old woman seemed to have no fear whatsoever.

Pat had to wonder if she was dreaming again.

As the thought crossed Pat’s mind, Grace looked over her shoulder and found Pat staring at her. She put one index finger to her lips in the universal shush gesture.

The house was comfortably warm, but a chill washed like ice-water over Pat.

She hurried back into her bedroom.

That time, she locked the door.

15

When Monica awoke, she was astonished to discover that it was ten minutes past six o’clock in the morning.

If memory served, she’d lain down yesterday about twelve hours ago. She didn’t recall waking once, and didn’t remember a single dream. It was the deepest sleep she’d experienced in years.

She sat up in bed, blankets falling away from her. The room was still dark, the blinds shuttered against the sunrise.

Like a lounging cat, she stretched her arms above her head.

My mother is here.

The realization was like waking and remembering that it was your birthday. She regretted that she had missed those additional precious hours with Grace last night, but she had been so incredibly tired.

That day, she planned to literally make up for lost time.

Beside her, Troy continued to slumber, his body a shadowy shape in the darkened room. He was a heavy sleeper and didn’t stir when she rose out of bed.

She crossed the room to the master bath. She noticed that Duchess’s small cushioned bed was empty, but assumed the dog had slept in Pat’s room, as she often did when Troy’s mother stayed overnight.