The other portraits had made me nervous, like Medea was watching my every move, but this painting stirred in me a profound sense of unease. Like she, and the woman with her, knew exactly who I was and, maybe, what I could do. Their slightly parted lips and piercing stares gave me the unshakable feeling that they were waiting for me to do something. I turned and left the room, yanked down the chain, and watched the fireplace move quietly back into place.

CHAPTER 14

Karter was at the front door at nine the next morning, and I had added the room behind the fireplace to my growing list of secrets.

“How’s your ankle?” I asked.

“Better. It’s just a sprain.” He pulled up his pant leg. His ankle was wrapped, but he didn’t have too much of a limp as he came in. Down the hall, a crash of pots and pans rang out. Karter jumped.

“The hell was that?” Mom yelled from somewhere upstairs.

“Mo’s in the kitchen,” I called back.

She appeared at the top of the stairs. “I was hoping she was gonna forget about breakfast. Karter, baby, I apologize in advance. You don’t have to eat nothin’ she puts in front of you.”

Karter glanced at me, clearly concerned.

I stifled a laugh. “You thought I was joking when I said she’s never made a waffle in her life?”

“I did, actually,” he replied.

I led Karter down the hall and as we rounded the corner into the kitchen, we saw Mo wearing a full-on chef’s uniform: the white coat, the hat—everything.

“Yikes,” I said.

Mo’s head whipped around.

“Watch and learn, baby girl,” she said. “Watch and learn.”

“Where’d you even get that outfit?” I asked.

Mo waved me away. “Don’t worry about it.”

She laid out all the ingredients she was going to use on the counter. Karter and I sat at the narrow table at the rear of the kitchen as Mom walked in and immediately took out her phone. Mo mixed the ingredients together and poured the batter onto the waffle iron. It made a loud hissing sound.

“Is that smoke?” I asked.

“It’s steam,” Mo said.

A half hour later, our blackened waffles were in the trash and the windows were open so the wispy clouds of gray smoke could escape. Mo drove into town to pick up breakfast under the condition that we would never speak about her waffle-making skills ever again.

After breakfast, Karter and I went outside. It was barely midmorning but the warm summer air was already heavy. The combination of a full stomach and the heat made me feel lazy as we circled around to the back of the house. I eyed the entrance to the hidden path.

“You gotta give Mo an A for confidence,” said Karter. “She was convinced she could make that breakfast. You really don’t know where she got the outfit?”

“No idea,” I said, laughing. “I feel bad, but she’s really good at lunch and dinner. I don’t know why she can’t get the hang of breakfast. We usually get bagels.”

“Probably a good idea.” He put his hands in his pockets. “So, what now? Are you guys staying long-term or . . .”

I pushed my glasses up the bridge of my nose. “I didn’t think we would. I didn’t want to come up here at first.”

“Why?” Karter asked.

“I was worried. This is a big change and the city is . . . ​familiar. Being out here is all new.”

“I get that,” said Karter.

“But I kind of fell out with my friends,” I said. “Maybe ‘fell out’ isn’t the right way to say it. It’s more like we were one thing when we met and now we’re something different. We just grew apart and I got comfortable making myself small.” I stopped. “Sorry. Now I’m the one telling you all my business.”

“I told you about my mom, so it’s only fair you tell me about your problems.” He smiled. “That’s what friends are for, right?”

I couldn’t keep myself from grinning. Did he already think of me as a friend? “We’re here and I think we’ll try to make it work. Besides, I’m having fun finding out about Rhinebeck and the house.”

“The house?” he asked. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I’ve been talking to people. Dr. Grant runs the Public Safety department and she said stuff has been goin’ on out here forever. The house has a reputation for attracting strange people.”

Karter rubbed the back of his neck. “Can I tell you something?”

“Uh oh,” I said. “That can’t be good. What is it? Somebody died in there, huh? Or it used to be a mortuary or something?”

He shook his head. “Nah, it’s just that I’ve heard things about this place, too. And the people who lived here before.”

“Really?” I asked, surprised. “What did you hear?”

He looked down at the ground, shifting from one foot to another. “People say the women who lived here were into witchcraft.”

“What?” I laughed but Karter didn’t. “You believe in that kind of thing?”

“I don’t know. I guess not. It was just something I heard. Thought it might be good to know.”

“In case any witches show up?” I was going to laugh again, but Marie’s face pushed its way to the front of my mind. I shook my head. Witches were ridiculous . . . right?

Karter’s phone buzzed, and he answered it.

“Just here with Briseis, Mom,” he said, rolling his eyes. A puzzled look spread across his face. He held out his phone. “She wants to talk to you.”

I took it. “Hi, Mrs. Redmond.”

“Hello, Briseis. Is everything all right?” she asked. “How are things going? You liking the place?”

“Everything’s good,” I said.

“That’s wonderful. I cannot tell you how happy I am that the house won’t be tied up with the bank.”

“I’m happy too,” I said.

Karter rolled his head back, then whispered, “She loves to talk. Just hang up on her.”

“Actually, I had a quick question,” I said, giving Karter a nudge. “Was there another key you were supposed to give me?”

Mrs. Redmond paused. “I’m pretty sure I gave you everything I had. Would you like me to double-check?”