Chapter 2 - The Glasses on the Nightstand)
Three weeks earlier, nothing about the morning had seemed dangerous.
That was the part Daniel would remember afterward.
No shattered windows.
No threatening letters.
No strangers waiting outside.
Just sunlight across the kitchen tiles and Winnie eating strawberries while Eleanor complained that the coffee was weak.
Sybil stood at the counter preparing breakfast.
Daniel was answering work messages.
Their lives looked ordinary.
Eleanor had been staying at the Hale house for almost two months.
Her own home was undergoing repairs after a burst pipe damaged the upstairs bathroom.
Daniel had insisted she stay with them instead of renting a hotel.
Winnie had been delighted.
Eleanor had always been her favorite person.
She told the best stories.
She knew how to make pancakes shaped like animals.
She also refused to treat Winnie like a baby.
If Winnie asked a serious question, Eleanor gave a serious answer.
That morning Winnie was examining a silver locket around Eleanor's neck.
"What is inside?"
Eleanor smiled.
"Nothing important."
Winnie frowned.
"Then why do you always wear it?"
Daniel looked up from his phone.
"She got you there, Mom."
Eleanor gave him a look.
"Some things are important because of what they remind us not to forget."
Sybil dropped a spoon.
It struck the marble counter.
Everyone looked at her.
She smiled quickly.
"Slippery hands."
Eleanor watched her.
The moment passed.
At eleven thirty, Daniel left for a meeting.
By six that evening, Eleanor was gone.
Sybil said she had left suddenly for Florida.
Daniel laughed when she told him.
"Florida?"
"Her friend Margaret called."
"What happened?"
"Something about surgery."
"Mom hates flying without planning."
"She said it was urgent."
Daniel called Eleanor.
The phone went directly to voicemail.
He texted her.
No answer.
Sybil showed him a message on her own phone.
It appeared to come from Eleanor.
Going to stay with Margaret for a while. Tell Daniel not to worry. I need some sun and fewer questions.
It sounded enough like his mother that Daniel accepted it.
Winnie did not.
At bedtime she stood in Eleanor's temporary bedroom holding the tortoiseshell glasses.
"She forgot these."
"She probably has another pair."
"Grandma only has these."
"How do you know?"
"Because she said so."
Daniel smiled.
"Grandma says lots of things."
Winnie did not smile back.
The next morning, Sybil said Eleanor had called.
Again, Daniel missed it.
The day after that, another text arrived.
Wonderful weather. Stop worrying.
Daniel tried calling.
No answer.
At dinner on the third night, Winnie looked toward the ceiling.
"What is that?"
Daniel listened.
"What?"
"The noise."
Sybil continued eating.
"It is an old house."
Winnie tilted her head.
A faint creak came from somewhere above them.
Daniel barely noticed it.
The Hale house had been built in 1923.
It creaked when the weather changed.
It clicked when pipes cooled.
It groaned when wind moved around the attic vents.
Winnie kept listening.
That night she woke at 1:14 in the morning.
She knew the time because the digital clock beside her bed was glowing blue.
Scratch.
Scratch.
Pause.
Scratch.
She sat upright.
The sound came through the wall.
Or above it.
She slipped out of bed.
The hallway was dark.
A nightlight glowed near the stairs.
Winnie walked barefoot toward the dining room.
Scratch.
Scratch.
Pause.
Scratch.
She stood beneath the attic hatch.
"Grandma?"
Silence.
Then a soft thump.
Winnie ran upstairs.
Daniel woke when she climbed into his bed.
"Someone is in the attic."
He opened one eye.
"Probably a squirrel."
"It knows my name."
That woke him.
"What?"
"I heard something."
"Did someone speak?"
Winnie hesitated.
She had not heard a clear word.
Maybe she wanted to hear one.
"I think so."
Sybil turned beside Daniel.
Her eyes were open.
"She had a nightmare."
Winnie looked at her.
"I was awake."
Sybil smiled gently.
"Of course you were."
Daniel walked Winnie back to her room.
He checked the hallway.
He checked the dining room.
Nothing.
When he returned to bed, Sybil was facing the wall.
"You should not encourage it," she said.
"Encourage what?"
"Her imagination."
"She is seven."
"Exactly."
Daniel closed his eyes.
The next afternoon he found Winnie standing in Eleanor's room again.
This time she held the glasses in one hand.
In the other was a small notebook.
"What are you doing?"
"Grandma writes everything down."
Daniel recognized the notebook.
Eleanor used it for appointments and grocery lists.
Winnie flipped to the last written page.
There was a date.
Three days before Eleanor supposedly left for Florida.
Below it were four words.
Ask Daniel about Sybil.
Daniel took the notebook.
"What does that mean?"
Winnie shrugged.
He turned the page.
Blank.
The following pages were blank too.
That evening he showed Sybil.
She read the words and laughed.
"Your mother has never trusted me."
"She likes you."
"She tolerates me because she loves you."
Daniel did not answer.
Sybil touched his arm.
"Daniel, she is seventy six. She worries. She invents problems."
"She does not usually write mysterious notes."
"Call her."
"I have."
"Then call Margaret."
Daniel realized something.
He did not have Margaret's number.
He also did not know Margaret's last name.
"Do you?"
Sybil took out her phone.
"I will get it."
But she never did.
That night the scratching returned.
Winnie did not wake Daniel.
She walked to the dining room alone.
She stood beneath the hatch and whispered.
"Grandma?"
A long silence followed.
Then came three distinct knocks.
Winnie lifted her hand toward the ceiling.
Three knocks.
Not pipes.
Not a squirrel.
May you like
Not an old house.
Someone was answering her.
