“Who?” I ask.

She rolls her eyes.

“Hilbert,” she says.

“Do you like him?” I ask.

“He’s handsome. Definitely smart. Tall, and dresses well. A bit dull, though.”

“He’s smart in a different way,” I say. “Which I like.”

“There are worse things than dull.”

“You’re right about that,” I say.

“Like someone who needs to always be reassured all the time, someone who is inward-looking,” she says.

“Yes!” I say. “That’s right. That’s hard to live with for so long.”

“It is,” she says. “It’s exhausting.”

“Because,” I say, “it gets worse over time, not better. When you’re so similar to a partner, there’s that risk of it feeling more like cooperation than true appreciation. There needs to be that unending, renewing affection. When the superficial wore off, I didn’t feel any wonderment, you know?”

“Yes, we know,” she says.

“I stopped being astonished by him. There was no complexity there, only ego.”

“Is Hilbert complex, Pennies?”

Before I can answer, we hear something, a door opening, maybe.

“Shhhh,” I say. “What was that?”

“Uh-oh. We’re not supposed to be in here,” Ruth says.

We hear it again.

“I thought you said it didn’t matter if we were here.”

“No, we can’t. We’ll be in big trouble. She’ll be livid. Let’s go,” she says, taking my hand.

She’s pulling me ahead, into the dark hallway. She puts a finger over her lips, then with a shifty look, winks again and walks back down the hall. I watch her go.

My stomach clenched when Ruth said She’ll be livid. Her eyes changed. They looked fearful. I wait until I can’t hear anything, no steps, no doors. I turn and sneak off the other way.

I tiptoe along the hallway until I pass by the dining room, and when I do, the lights come on. I hear someone in the kitchen. Maybe that’s the clang Ruth and I heard. She must have gone back to her room. I know I should just keep going, go back to my room, but I hear the noise again. There are many sounds in an old house like this. That’s just what Jack said.

I step slowly through the empty dining room, one hand touching the wall for support. It’s not as cozy when it’s empty and dark. I feel a draft as if a window is open. I get to the door of the kitchen. I push my hand against it, curious where the noise is coming from, and the door opens, just a crack. There’s barely enough space for me to see inside.

I open the door wider and step in. The light doesn’t come on automatically. It’s dark, but I can make out a long counter, shelves holding pots, pans, and plates. I had no idea the kitchen was this large. It seems to keep going and going. Why doesn’t the light come on? I wave my hand, hoping that will flip the sensor. But it doesn’t.

I hear the noise again, look up and see movement at the end of the kitchen. I see a person. It’s Jack.