Noelle was picking up and modeling turbans. Miriam surreptitiously took a picture of her in a lurid pink silk with a two-foot ostrich plume drooping over one ear, then couldn’t resist pulling on the feather to bring Noelle’s mouth down to hers.

“Gosh, well,” Noelle shrugged dramatically, after breaking the kiss, “it’s too bad we don’t know anyone whose only friends are old theater people who now own consignment and antique shops.”

“Hey,” Miriam protested, wrapping herself in an avocado-green robe, embroidered with orange and teal dragons, “I’m also friends with Cole.”

“Do you think any of your Old Ladies would want to carry any of this?” Noelle gestured to a bookshelf stuffed with purses.

“We should ask Marisol first,” Miriam said, “because people in Advent might want something to remember Cass by.”

Noelle held up a yellow and turquoise paisley trench coat, clutching it to her nose and burying her face in it. “I remember the last time she wore this,” she said, tears in her eyes. “She was too sick to go down to yell at the Advent town council about something, so she made them come here, and she wore this. She said it was good luck.”

Miriam caught her breath, unable to imagine Cass so sick she couldn’t travel a couple of miles to yell at someone.

She walked the perimeter of the room, touching tchotchkes and the mismatched jumble of furniture, trying to imagine all the lives Cass had lived before any of them knew her. She stopped short in front of a mirrored vanity covered in gold leaf and decked in perfume bottles. Tucked into the mirror frame was a snapshot of three kids in snowsuits. She, Hannah, and Blue had to be six or seven, their cheeks red from joy and wind. They had their arms around each other, a sled at their feet, and they were glowing. Miriam pulled it gently out.

On the back, Cass had written The Heirs of Cassiopeia. Miriam must have made a noise because Noelle came over to see what was wrong. She wrapped her arms around Miriam’s shoulders, and Miriam relaxed back into her.

“I’ve never seen this picture before,” Miriam whispered.

“Do you remember when it was taken?” Noelle asked.

“Oh yes,” Miriam said. “Blue decided he was going to sled to Canada, and we wouldn’t let him go without us. Our entire childhood was him dragging us into Shenanigans. There was a big storm forecast, and our parents were livid we’d been out so far from the house, but we were having so much fun, we couldn’t even pretend we were sorry. I didn’t know this picture existed. I wonder why this is the one Cass kept?”