“Female,” Alva said without pausing. “Although that might be because of the haunting I was shown.”

“I’d say the same,” Sam said. “Ever since we … conversed, if one can call it that, I keep calling it her and she. With no evidence whatsoever of a gender.”

“I see your point,” Alva said reluctantly. “But I still don’t think it’s Edward. Maybe Mrs. Kay will turn something up with the old butler.”

“Let’s hope. Change of subject—there’s an official Moore family dinner tonight.”

“That will be nice for you,” Alva said. “I know you miss them.”

“Ah, you misunderstand. You’re included in the summons. Orders directly from my mother.”

“Sorry. Your mother wants me to come to dinner?” Alva frowned up at him. “Sam, what have you told her?”

“Oh, only that I enjoyed our lovemaking like I’ve enjoyed no other and I hope to wear you down so you’ll let me enjoy it again—Ouch! Ouch! Ouch! You know, for a fairly average-sized woman your fists have a surprising amount of strength behind them.”

“Sam,” Alva said, speaking slowly. “Please tell me you did not say that. I know your family is unconventional, but please tell me—”

“All right, all right, I didn’t tell her anything,” Sam said, twinkling at her in a very provoking way. “Just that we were both traveling down here. She likes you. She wants to see you.”

The sudden panic faded, revealing a layer of unease below. She liked Winn Moore. She liked Sam’s whole family. But if they were successful here in New York, she hoped this entire adventure would be concluded quickly and Sam would be going on his way. Going to dinner … getting attached … it could only end badly.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” she said. “They’ll want to catch up with you, and I don’t want to horn in.”

“You might as well give it up. Either you show up at Gilsey House, with me, at seven o’clock this evening or my mother will take herself and our entire family to your hotel room and invite herself in. I’m afraid you’re stuck. There’s no going against her.”

And with that, Alva sighed and gave up.

It was drifting snowflakes when Alva and Sam walked up the sidewalk towards Gilsey House, the kind of snow that might simply be little gusts of wind playing in the snowbanks. Lamps burned in storefronts, and people, rich and poor and everything in between, jostled past one another in the street. Alva glanced at a dark window as they passed, trying to catch a glimpse of her reflection.