When the food was cleared they managed to interest the boys in the toys Justine had started stockpiling in a spare room. The room she now thought of as the boys’ room.

They sat outside as Hope related the details of her eventful Friday night.

“Before we talk about what all of this might mean, and so on, I wanted to ask you, Justine, if we should have any sort of a policy. Do you want me to tell people about Lizzy, or not tell them?”

“I think a policy is too limiting. You should handle it just the way you are. You judge, guest by guest, what to say, how much to say. This is the first time she’s ever disturbed anyone,” Justine considered. “And it seems like she did it on purpose. She didn’t like seeing someone being rude to you.”

“Ought to have better manners,” Willy B commented and gave Tyrone a tickle under the chin. Tyrone grumbled happily in his throat.

“Well, manners aren’t requirements for paying guests. They’re a nice benefit. I’ve certainly dealt with ruder.”

“But we’re not talking about Ry,” Beckett pointed out, and grinned when Ryder sneered at him.

“I think Lizzy makes certain allowances,” Hope continued. “I mentioned broadening those allowances to her.”

“You talked to her again?” Owen asked.

“Not exactly. I talk to her now and then. She doesn’t talk back. Except for Friday night.”

“It’s heartbreaking,” Clare murmured. “What she said about fading.”

“And yet she rarely seems sad. She’s got hope.” Beckett smiled at Hope. “She had it even before you. I can’t figure why she mentioned Ryder. He had less to do with her than me and Owen.”

“How do you know?” Ryder demanded.

“I don’t remember you saying much about her until she played games with you and Hope in The Penthouse.”

“We all spent plenty of time in that place, together, separately. I got along with her. We gave each other space.”

“Did you ever see her?” Owen asked him.

“You don’t have to see her to know she’s there. She didn’t like Shawn—you know the carpenter we hired on right after we got started?”

“Nobody liked Shawn after we found out he was skimming materials for side jobs,” Owen pointed out.

“And hitting on Denny’s wife. What kind of idiot makes a play for the wife of a town cop, especially when the town cop’s a friend of his bosses—and the woman’s not interested?”

“Before we didn’t like him, and fired him—Lizzy didn’t like him. She used to hide his tools, his lunch bucket, his gloves, like that. At first I thought he was just being careless, then I found some of his things down in the old basement, where he hadn’t been. All stacked up neat and tidy—and smelling like honeysuckle.”