She clutches her book more tightly to her chest. “Would you mind showing me?”

The walk to the house is awkward, Willow quiet, and me so self-conscious over the fact that this girl has basically had an unauthorized peek at my soul that I can’t remember how to walk like a normal human (do I swing my arms with my legs or opposite my legs?). I spend a few seconds trying to figure out how one climbs up the side of a house without looking like King Kong when Willow produces a key, eliminating the problem. As soon as we step over the threshold, something shifts inside of me.

I think Willow feels it too, because we both pause, taking a breath of the house’s air, which smells amazingly of dried herbs and tea leaves, and even though we both feel awkward, being in the house makes everything easier.

“I was just in here,” she says. “Right before I saw you. I had to come back to find something I dropped the night I saw you here.”

I wait for her to explain, but she bites her lower lip, her eyes darting from mine. “Did you find it?” I finally ask.

A small smile erupts across her face. “Yep.”

Again, she doesn’t elaborate. Instead, she exhales, spinning like a ballerina to take in the rooms. Here in the house she somehow looks more Willow. Brighter hair, shinier eyes. But more than that, she seems lighter. Freer. Which I recognize, because I’m starting to feel it too. It’s the magic of the house. It makes you feel like you’re fine exactly how you are, which is not a thing I’m used to.

Willow points up to the chandelier. “We mostly need to keep the lights off. I’m not supposed to be here.”

That shouldn’t surprise me, but it does. “But it’s your house?”

“My mom’s.” Her jaw tightens, which lets me know there’s more to it, but I don’t feel like I can ask her. I turn to look at the study, catching a glimpse of all the ship paraphernalia, and my ease grows. “I didn’t know about it until recently. Very recently.”

“I love this place,” I blurt out.

“Me too,” she says. And then there’s this moment where we smile at each other, and for one tiny second I swear the entire world stands still. “I’ve never been anywhere like it.”

“Same.” I point to the study. “Did you know that Frederick Bell made most of his money importing molasses for rum? His first haul made a profit of like seven hundred percent because he was trading directly with the people in China and East India. Salem was ridiculously rich for a couple of decades, and Frederick was one of the people who really capitalized. That’s why this house is so nice.”