“It is, ma’am. But it was no excuse to talk to you that way neither. My wife near took my head off when she heard how I’d spoken to you. You can just ignore what I said in that letter, about payment beyond the deposit. We can call it even.”

A frown tugged at her mouth and she forced herself to hold a pleasant expression. This was not the direction she was aiming for. “That’s very generous of you,” she said, sighing. “I don’t suppose—no, of course not. I’m simply going to have to make up my mind to give up on the project. It’s just … oh, here I am going on and on, Mr. Miller, and you’re being so kind, listening to my prattle.”

“It’s no hardship talking to you, ma’am. If you’ll forgive me, I’m confused as to why you’re so set on the project. There are other houses, nicer ones, even setting aside the—the ghost.” His voice weakened on the last word.

It was a good question, and she didn’t have a good answer. Liefdehuis was ugly, and inhospitable, and sometimes, if she was perfectly honest with herself, and this did not mean she was entertaining the possibility of a ghost, it frightened her. It’s also alone, and afraid, and you know what that’s like, said an unwelcome whisper in the back of her head.

She had to force herself not to frown. This was not the time to start anthropomorphizing.

“It was the last wish of my grandfather,” she said, inventing wildly. “He’d had such good memories of the house as a boy, you see, and it haun…”—bad choice of words—“bothered him so to see the house fall into such disrepair.” And if that wasn’t the thinnest story ever told, she’d eat Howard Miller’s beard. Obviously a career on the stage was not in her future.

But Miller was nodding. “I know how that is,” he said. “I had a grandfather, too. Took me fishing with him every summer, up the river a bit to this spot only he and his friends knew about. Just tucked into the trees, sweet as you like, and you couldn’t put your line in without having three fish jump on it before you’d even settled in. Few years back, we had a bad flood season. Took the whole bank out, trees and all. Now it’s only rocks and a little bit of sand. First time I saw it, I don’t mind telling you I welled up a bit.”

Firmly, Alva suppressed her guilt. There would be time to be a nice person later. “You do know how it is,” she said. “And now … I suppose it’s all over.”