This got the attention of the remaining two family members, and suddenly Alva found herself surrounded. There were a lot of them, she thought, trying to orient herself, and they were, every single one of them, beautiful. She blinked, as if they might fade a bit as she acclimated to them.

They didn’t.

All three of the men were enormous. There was an older version of Sam, his father, she assumed, and a darker, leaner man around Sam’s age. They all shared the same sparkling blue eyes and wide shoulders, and as she was being introduced a begrudging appreciation of their overwhelming masculine beauty overcame her.

“And this is my mother and father, John and Winn Moore,” Sam was saying.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Alva said, smiling as politely as her shocked state would allow. There was something tugging at the edge of her brain, a feeling that she was being reminded of something she had long forgotten, and it was distracting her.

“Are you going to let Sam study your ghost?” Maggie asked.

“I don’t have a ghost,” Alva replied, which ignited a brief and passionate argument about whether one could indeed own ghosts. A consensus emerged that one could not, as they still possessed some human agency.

“Fine,” Maggie said, rolling her eyes. “Are you going to let Sam study your house, which is currently inhabited by a ghost?” She looked at her brothers. “Better?”

Alva opened her mouth to deny any existence of a ghost, a task that looked fairly Sisyphean from this perspective, but was thankfully cut off by Winn.

“Let’s not swarm the girl,” she said. “She doesn’t even know us and you lot can’t wait to get your hands on her ghost.” There was a general outcry. “Sorry, the ghost. Won’t you take dinner with us, Mrs. Webster?”

“Oh, I couldn’t—”

“Oh please,” Winn said. “You look like you know all about New York, and we’d love to know everything we should do and see while we’re here.”

“Where are you from?” Alva asked.

“Ohio,” Sam said from right by her shoulder. She hadn’t forgotten he was there—that would have been more than even her concentration could have managed—but hearing his voice so close startled her a bit.

Ohio. The thing tugging at her attention increased. Something about Ohio, and something she’d heard once …

“I’m so sorry,” she said, mustering up another smile, and because she found she quite liked Winn Moore, this one was warmer. “But I really can’t. It was lovely to meet you all, though.”

Maggie protested, but Winn shushed her and simply smiled back. “It was lovely to meet you as well, Mrs. Webster.”

As she turned away, she found Sam had turned with her. “I really am leaving,” she murmured. “I won’t be distracted by insane inventions, or ghosts, or even conveniently placed mothers.”