“What can I do to help?” Trey asked me.

I sat upright and looked into his clear blue eyes. The yellowing bruise around his right eye hadn’t faded much since the day before. “I’m just scared, all right? I’m scared. If we fail tomorrow, then I’m going to die. And the rest of you might die too.”

“Okay,” Trey said resolutely. “We should get some sleep before you even ask Jennie for advice. What if we all just sleep in here? Does that seem like it would be okay?”

I nodded. I didn’t like the idea of falling asleep in a strange place, especially now that it seemed Violet and Henry were right: We weren’t safe anywhere. As much as I suspected we were putting ourselves in danger by gathering in one spot, the idea of us splitting up around the enormous house seemed like it would make us even more vulnerable. Trey returned to the kitchen to tell Violet and Henry that we were going to crash in the living room for a few hours, and Violet asked me to follow her upstairs to fetch pillows and blankets for everyone.

At the end of a long hallway, past the door to her father’s office and her bedroom, Violet opened a door to reveal a large linen closet. As she handed me a stack of folded blankets, she said, “If anything bad happens to you in the next few days, I’m not sure who would take it worse, Trey or Henry.” There wasn’t a hint of snark or bitterness in her tone.

“I know,” I admitted, not really wanting to discuss it with her.

Violet offered me a weak smile and said, “It’s not the worst problem to have, right?”

I tried and failed to grin. With each passing hour, it was seeming more likely that Mischa’s prediction for me would come true. As much as I wanted to believe that my heart was wholly Trey’s, I didn’t like the idea of leaving Henry behind either.

Henry set his phone alarm for six in the morning. That would give us seven hours to plan before Mr. and Mrs. Portnoys’ funeral was scheduled to begin at Gundarsson’s before the procession to the Jewish cemetery on the far side of town. For safe measure, I double-checked to make sure that the lid on the mason jar was twisted tightly shut.

Falling asleep on the settee seemed impossible. I couldn’t get comfortable, no matter how I shifted positions, and every time my thoughts began to fade toward sleep, the strong sense that Jennie wanted to speak with me stirred me awake again. Although I definitely had more urgent concerns, the thought that I was never going to sleep in my old bedroom ever again was weighing heavily on my heart. Making matters worse, the tall grandfather clock standing at the foot of the staircase chimed once every half hour and then again, repeatedly, every hour. Its somber melody seemed to fill every corner of the enormous house, even blanketing the sounds of Henry’s deep breathing and Violet’s sniffling.