A large expanse of open grass with a few small outcroppings of trees butted up to a dense tree line. Beyond that was forest as far as I could see, with a few paths snaking into it. Something stirred in the pit of my stomach. I thought I noticed a subtle shift in the tilt of the trees. I quickly stepped away from the window.

A quick series of a half dozen sneezes cut through the air. I went back to Mom’s room to find her sneezing her face off as Mo shook out the curtains in their room.

“I’m gonna need Zyrtec,” Mom said. “Maybe a biohazard suit.”

I jumped onto the bed, sending a plume of dust into the air. Mom shrieked and pulled her T-shirt up over her face. “You tryna kill me?”

I carefully scooted off. Her allergies were a mess in the summertime and being out in the sticks was only going to make them worse.

“What are we gonna do with the extra bedrooms?” I asked.

“We can turn one into an office or something,” Mo said. “Make the other a guest room so your grandma can come visit.”

“She’ll love this place,” I said. Staying here for the summer—or maybe longer—was looking more and more like the right move.

“If we stay,” Mom added. “We haven’t gotten that far yet.”

“Just keep an open mind, babe,” said Mo.

“I’m trying,” Mom said, but there was a clear ring of worry in her tone.

“Let’s finish looking around,” I said.

I moved toward the door, but Mo knelt and looked up into the chimney of the fireplace. She reached in and pulled a short chain. The flue groaned as it opened, spilling a pile of rotted leaves and a dead bird into the hearth. Mom looked absolutely done.

“At least it’s clear,” said Mo. “We can put some logs in there, get a bearskin rug. It’ll be romantic.”

Mom rolled her eyes and shoved her hand down on her hip. “Nothing romantic about a roasted chicken in the fireplace.”

Mo inspected the twisted pile of feathers. “I’m pretty sure it’s a crow, but I’m gonna clean it up. Don’t worry.”

While they fussed, I went out to the hallway to look around. More paintings and photographs lined the walls—some in color, some in black and white, and some were paintings that looked like they should be hanging in a museum. At the end of the hall was a narrow door with a bronze handle. I pulled it open and found myself at the foot of a short flight of stairs.”

“There’s another floor,” I called out.

Mom and Mo joined me at the bottom of the staircase. A dim light streamed down from somewhere above.

“Want me to go up first?” Mo asked.