Cover

ALSO BY AMY EPHRON

The Castle in the Mist

Carnival Magic

Dedication

For Chloe, Roman,

& the man in the bowler hat

~ CHAPTER ONE ~

maybe it’s the wind

Did you see that?”

“See what?” Max replied.

“That . . . that shadow that went past the window,” said Tess, “out in the garden.” It was more than a shadow, a shape that had streaked by the window. She couldn’t explain what it was.

Tess and Max were sharing a suite at a small, somewhat trendy hotel in London called THE SANBORN HOUSE. They had gone to meet their mom and dad and Aunt Evie for Christmas break, although their parents hadn’t arrived yet.

Tess would be sleeping in the bedroom. Max had a rollaway cot in the living room. At the moment, Tess was sitting on the antique carpet on the floor of the living room and Max was lying on his freshly made cot. They had checked in at the desk with Aunt Evie, found their hotel room, and obediently unpacked their suitcases.

They were both a little tired from the trip to London. Tess was staring vacantly out the window to the garden. Except she’d noticed something. Or at least she thought she had. It looked like a shape that had streaked quickly past the window—not an animal, something else, shadowy, which had sneaked past, not blown by the wind.

“I didn’t see anything,” said Max immediately, definitively, even though he was sitting up as if he had.

“But,” he added, “there could be a number of explanations for it.” There was a bit of an edge to his voice, as if he was irritated at Tess. And Tess noticed she hadn’t told him, at all, what she’d seen and nonetheless he was rationalizing it for her. Ever logical, he explained, “For instance, a cloud passed across the sun, causing a shadow.”

“We’re in London, there isn’t any sun,” said Tess, not meaning to be funny.

Max hesitated, and then suggested gruffly, as if he wished this conversation would be over, “A large truck passed by in the alley then and altered the light.”

“I don’t think there is an alley,” said Tess. “It looks like there’s just a garden that separates our hotel from the back of the house on the street behind us. I bet the garden’s pretty in the spring,” she added.

“It’s pretty now,” said Max.

It was unusually cold, and the branches of the trees were gilded with ice and an occasional dangling icicle that oddly reflected what little light there was into colored patterns, the way a glass prism would.

“You’re right,” said Tess. “It is pretty. And the icicles are natural holiday tree decorations. I bet Mom would like them. And see those red berries dotting that bush? I wonder what kind of berry bush it is.”