The truth was he didn’t know what to do with himself around her. And now he’d spent ten minutes dwelling on a woman when he should be getting dressed and loading his equipment onto the wagon he’d rented the night before. He didn’t know why she’d changed her mind, but he was glad she had. And if he couldn’t shake the feeling she needed help somehow, well, he could begin by doing what she’d asked him to do: find out if a ghost was haunting her property.

And if he happened to find out what else was upsetting her while he was doing it, he would simply find a way to fix that, too. After all, it’s what he did. He figured out questions, and he answered them.

It was barely past first light when he and Henry (whom he’d pestered into coming with him so he could take the cart back) pulled up in front of Liefdehuis. Henry, who’d been dozing grumpily in his corner during the short drive, blinked his eyes open and squinted at the house.

“It’s ugly,” he said.

Sam hopped into the back and started untying the ropes holding his equipment down. “She’ll make it pretty,” he said, which caused Henry to squint at him instead.

“Will she?” he said, but apparently decided to leave it there. “Sam, why couldn’t we have done this at a proper hour? For example, after breakfast?”

“The early bird—”

“If you finish that sentence,” Henry said, “I will have you for breakfast.”

Sam grinned. Irritating Henry before breakfast was one of life’s true joys. “The faster you help me unload, the faster you can leave,” he said instead.

This seemed to be a convincing argument, and for the next fifteen minutes they quickly unloaded the cart, leaving Sam’s equipment in a pile in front of the door.

“And that’s it,” he said, putting the last box of wire and assorted helpful bits on the ground. “You and the horses can return to warmth.”

“Not a moment too soon,” Henry said, but he didn’t immediately move. Instead he frowned and paused, like he was debating whether to speak. “Sam, be careful.”

“And here I thought you didn’t care,” Sam said, making a silly face before shrugging. “It’s highly unlikely the ghost is capable of physical violence.”

“I wasn’t talking about the ghost,” Henry said, and climbed back up into the cart.

This was odd—Henry’s warnings usually came with words like “liability” and “jurisdiction” and “three years in jail and a fine of up to two thousand dollars,” but Sam trusted if it was important the meaning would eventually become clear, or at the very least Henry would bail him out of jail. He picked up the box again and carried it into the house.