Her perfect red lips curled up in a rueful smile. “Ouch, okay. I’m sorry.” She reached across the table once more with her manicured hand and tapped mine. “Tell you what, I’ll tap into some resources and see what I can find on your cast of characters. I’ll help you find answers, CJ. You aren’t alone.” With a squeeze of my hand, all was forgiven, at least on her side. And for Mia, I guess that was really all that mattered. Her indifference stung.

Before I could respond, she gasped, “Look at the time! It’s 8:30!”

“Oh, Lord,” I said as I scrambled out of the booth and threw some cash on the table. We didn’t say much as we drove to Seven Sisters, and the silence continued when we pulled into the long drive.

“Wow,” I heard her whisper.

“Uh-huh,” I agreed.

Looking quite like a butler in his black dress pants, vest and white shirt, Matthews met us at the door. “This must be Miss Reed,” he said jovially. He extended his hand to Mia, and the two chatted for a moment while I slipped past them. I took a moment to stop by the ladies’ parlor. It was bare now, with only the makeshift desk, two dusty chairs and the reclining sofa. It was all wrong and missing so many details. I walked to the door that led to the porch and discovered that the old door wouldn’t budge. Still, I could see the wilderness that was once a garden through the dirty window. I pushed aside the sadness and instead quietly pledged to make it right…whatever “it” was. “I will make it right,” I whispered into the air.

“Hey, daydreamer,” Mia teased, “Come show me the setup, then take me on a tour.”

I laughed, my sadness forgotten. I left the stuffy room behind and took Mia on a tour of the house. We finished in the Blue Room, where we had installed the computers.

I found Chip, our IT guy, hunkered over his computer. He had short, curly hair, which made his ears appear even larger than they were. He gave me the usual nonchalant wave but perked up and sat a little straighter in his chair when Mia strolled in behind me with her red fingernails, retro ballet flats and vintage dress. I made introductions and listened to them chatter about the new program that he had designed for our “little” project. He clearly knew what he was doing; although he was no history major, the young man had more than adequate knowledge about networking, firewalls and password control. We’d be working with some expensive antiques, some that had been delicately restored. It was so important that nothing came up missing. Butterflies flipped in my stomach, reminding me that I would be the one responsible for anything that went wrong. Still, for a few minutes, I felt sane and happy and completely in control.

Ashland walked in with perfect timing. I was beaming from ear to ear, and he gave me an equally brilliant smile. He wore an untucked blue linen shirt with jeans. He looked comfortable and sophisticated, even with his tanned arms full of boxes.