Megan's mate

It was no more than a foot long, a foot wide and a few pounds in weight, and it was grimy from the years it had spent in the darkness. Almost tenderly, she brushed away the worst of the dust. Her fingers hovered at the latch, itching to release it, then dropped away. It wasn't hers to open.

I don't know where she could be.

Amanda strode back into the parlor, tossing up her hands.

She's not in her office, or her room.

She was fussing in a closet when I saw her last.

Colleen tipped back her glass.

She's a grown woman. Might be taking a walk.

Yes, but...

Suzanna trailed off with a glance at Kevin. There was no point in worrying the child, she reminded herself. Just because Megan was never late, that was no reason to assume something was wrong.

Maybe she's in the garden.

She

smiled and handed the baby to Holt.

I can go look.

I'll do it.

Nathaniel stood up. He didn't really believe Megan had forgotten their date for dinner and gone walking in the garden, but looking was better than worrying.

If she comes in while I'm gone

But then he heard her footsteps and glanced toward the doorway.

Her hair was wild, her eyes were wide. Her face and clothes were smeared with dirt.

And she was smiling, brilliantly.

I'm sorry I'm late.

Megan, what on earth?

Dumbfounded, Sloan stared at her.

You look like you've

been crawling in a ditch.

Not quite.

She laughed and pushed a hand through her disordered hair.

I got a

little involved, lost track of the time. Sloan, I borrowed some of your tools. They're in the tower.

In the

But she was crossing the room, her eyes on Colleen. She knelt at the old woman's feet, set the box in her lap.

I found something that belongs to you.

Colleen scowled down at the box, but her heart was thrumming in her ears.

Why

would you think it belongs to me?

Gently Megan took Colleen's hand, laid it on the dusty metal.

He hid it under the

floor of the tower, her tower, after she died.

Her quiet voice silenced the room like

a bomb.

He said she haunted him.

Megan pulled the transcribed code out of her pocket, set it on top of the box.

I can't read it,

Colleen said impatiently.

I'll read it for you.

But when Megan took the sheet again, Colleen grabbed her wrist.

Wait. Have Coco come in. I want her here.

While they waited, Megan got up and went to Nathaniel.

It was a code,

she told

him, before turning to face the room.

The numbers in the back of the book. I don't know why I didn't see it

Then she smiled.

I was looking too hard, too closely.

And today I knew. I just knew.

She stopped, lifted her hands, let them fall.

I'm

sorry. I should have told you as soon as I'd solved it. I wasn't thinking.

You did what you were meant to do,

Lilah corrected.

If one of us was supposed

to find it, we would have.

Is it like a treasure hunt?

Kevin wanted to know.

Yes.

Megan drew him close to ruffle his hair.

I really don't have time right now, dear.

Coco was arguing as Amanda dragged her

into the room.

It's the middle of the dinner rush.

Sit and be quiet,

Colleen ordered.

The girl has something to read. Get your aunt a drink,

she said to C.C.

She may need it. And freshen mine, while you're at it.

She

lifted her eyes, bird-bright, to Megan's.

Well, go on. Read it.

As she did, Megan slipped her hand into Nathaniel's. She heard Coco's quick gasp and sigh. Her own throat was raw with unshed tears when she lowered the page again.

So... I went up and I pried up some floorboards. And I found it.

Even the children were silent when Colleen placed her thin hands on the box. They trembled once, then steadied as she worked the latch free, and opened the lid. Now it was her lips that trembled, and her eyes filled. She drew out a small oval frame, tarnished black with age.

A photograph,

she said in a thick voice.

Of my mother with me and Sean and

Ethan. It was taken the year before she died. We sat for it in the garden in New York.

She stroked it once, then offered it to Coco.

Oh, Aunt Colleen. It's the only picture we have of all of you.

She kept it on her dressing table, so that she could look at it every day. A book of poetry.

Colleen drew out the slim volume, caressed it.

She loved to read poetry.

It's Yeats. She would read it to me sometimes, and tell me it reminded her of Ireland.

This brooch.

She took out a small, simple enamel pin decorated with violets.

Sean

and I gave it to her for Christmas. Nanny helped us buy it, of course. We were too young. She often wore it.

She caressed a marcasite watch, its pin shaped like a bow, and a carved jade dog hardly bigger than her thumb.

There were other small treasures a smooth white stone, a pair of tin soldiers, the dust of an ancient flower. Then the pearls, an elegant choker of four delicate strands that had slept the decades away in a black velvet pouch.

My grandparents gave her these as a bridal gift.

Colleen ran a fingertip over the

smooth orbs.