Blaire awoke to morning sunlight spilling over her. Her back screamed as she rolled off the windowsill and stretched.

After shelving the scary story records, Blaire left the library to annoy Grandfather Henry. He was already halfway down the stairs when she caught him.

He looked at her and laughed. “What kind of caretaker are you? You can’t even take care of yourself.”

“It’s my second day,” she protested.

“First. If I agree,” he corrected. “Now go make me breakfast.”

Begrudgingly, Blaire headed to the kitchen and prepared some good old-fashioned oatmeal, wheat toast, and pulp free orange juice.

“You are not joining me?” Grandfather asked as she exited the dining room.

“I’m not hungry and I’ve got to change.”

Blaire raced upstairs to her bedroom and pulled out a change of clothes. A black t-shirt and dark skinny jeans. Simple and sweet.

She headed to the guest bathroom and scrubbed herself pink in the shower.

Then, Blaire brushed her teeth, wiggled into her clothes, and roughly blow dried her shoulder-length black strands to a silky shine. Seeing as there was no one to impress, Blaire applied no makeup.

Blaire hopped downstairs and found her grandfather settled in his lounge chair.

“Turn the fire on,” he ordered.

Blaire obliged. “Is there anything you like to do instead of sit in front of a fire? Can I get you a book?”

“I hate reading. It hurts my eyes.”

“An audiobook then.”

“A what?”

“We could play a game,” Blaire offered. “I know all sorts of card games.”

“What I want, Blaire, is some peace and quiet.”

Blaire stared skeptically at him but surrendered. If that was what he wanted, then that was what he shall receive.

Blaire snatched his half-eaten porridge and other dishes from the dining room and dropped them in the sink. She prepared to do dishes when she heared pounding at the door.

“Do not answer!” Blaire's grandfather barked.

Ignoring his misanthropic ways, Blaire unlocked the front door and shocked the visitor.

“Oh! You’re here!” Mrs. Elizabeth Northcott, Charles’ wife, exhaled with a laugh. A hand was pressed against her chest while another held a plastic container.

“Charlie will be glad to know,” she added. “I brought breakfast for Henry.”

“He just had some. But I’m sure he’d love to have whatever you’ve made later,” Blaire answered.

Mrs. Northcott smiled. “May I?”

“Please.” Blaire stepped aside and allowed her to pass.

“You look different,” Elizabeth acknowledged. “Grown.”

“I am eighteen,” Blaire poorly joked, though she was aware of what Elizabeth meant.

Elizabeth was Blaire's mother’s age and, like this house, had not changed. Maybe a few more wrinkles on the face and natural streaks of silver in her chestnut hair. Otherwise she, and Blaire's sure everyone else, had not changed.

“Yes, well, everyone will be up in arms with your arrival.” Elizabeth shifted. “Why don’t you go see Charlie while he’s still home? I can stay here and watch Henry.”

“Really?” Blaire brightened. “Are you su-Thanks so much! I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Take your time. We’re not going anywhere.”

Blaire smiled but choose not to agree. She didn’t like the idea of taking advantage of the Northcotts or anyone else, especially when she had just arrived.

Charles answered the door before Blaire squeezed a second knock. His reaction to her arrival was the exact opposite of Grandfather Henry’s.

He yanked her into a giant bear hug and swayed her back and forth.

“I used to have to pick you up to hug you like this!” Charles laughed.

“Charlie,” Blaire mumbled in his chest, “I can’t breathe.”

He pushed her back and beamed broadly at her. He was lanky and awkward and a total dweeb but Blaire had loved him like a brother once.

“I’m here for Grandfather’s meds,” she told him.

“Here for them but not for me?” Charles pretended to be offended.

“We’ve got months to catch up.”

“Get you to lose that American accent of yours.”

Blaire followed him into his house. “You don’t like it?”

“It’s...different.”

“What, you thought when I came back I’d be the same girl?”

“Yes. I also thought your parents would be here. Your father at the house?”

“At our house. In Oregon.”

Charles shook his head in disapproval.

“Hey. You’d rather have him than me?” Blaire feigned hurt.

“Of course not. I’d be mad to choose the company of an old man over a pretty young lady.” Charles shuffled through the cupboards in his kitchen. It was smaller, crowded, homey. Not empty and hollow like the Blackwood’s.

“Are you sure you can handle this responsibility?” Charles asked as he held out the tube of pills.

“Of drugging my senile old gramps? Yeah.” Blaire snatched the container from his hand.

Charles smirked. “Have you seen anyone else?”

“Just your wife. I came here yesterday afternoon.”

“Intentionally?”

Blaire laughed. “I’m stuck for three months with you. There’s no point in sneaking in.”

“True.” Charles leaned against the wall. “How did Henry handle your arrival?”

“He slammed the door in my face.” Blaire smiled tightly, recalling the memory. “Or tried to.”

“I wouldn’t have expected anything less from Henry Blackwood. What are your plans today?”

“Well, I’m watching Grandfather-”

“All day?” Charles asked, incredulous.

“No, not all day. I’ve got some free time. Thinking of going to The Lesters and having some lunch.”

“I can take you.”

Blaire brightened. “Can you?”

“Sweetheart, this town will shut down for days once they know you’re here.” Charles glanced at the clock on the wall. “In an hour, they’ll all know.”

…

Three days had passed, and by now Grandfather Henry had given up the idea of forcing Blaire out of town. Like a hot potato she had been tossed from house to house, reminiscing over old memories and catching up on current events.

It was both frustrating and amusing when she brought up the modern world that didn’t exist in theirs. Sometimes she would spend hours just describing basic stuff like fast food restaurants and smartphones.

Blaire was certain she convinced the townspeople to remain even more in their enclosed life. The outside world was chaotic, disorganized, and senseless. But the senseless world had internet.

Blaire was overjoyed when reunited with Sir Stripes and even more overjoyed by the look on Grandfather Henry's face when she brought him home. Of course, it was just to test his reaction. She didn’t have the time or inclination to take care of a cat. But it was nice to see the plump orange tabby, even if grandfather didn’t feel the same.

No one brought up Cole, no one brought up the woods, but it was a subject that they couldn’t ignore. Like a pile of dirty laundry that grew, eventually, Blaire would have to acknowledge it was there and either toss everything out or clean it.

“I’m thinking of going to visit my grandmother tomorrow,” Blaire confessed at the Lester’s family restaurant.

Matthew’s father and owner, Peter Lester, was surprised by her confession. He poured her a shot of brandy, as he did when no one else was around, and served himself one as well.

“I’m sure she’d like that. Are you going to visit Cole, too?” Peter spoke his name so casually, as if talking of the weather’s condition which, of course, remained lukewarm and foggy.

“Cole’s not there,” Blaire answered flatly.

Unfazed, Mr. Lester continued, “It’s the least you could do. You didn’t show for the funeral-”

“It’s not a funeral if there’s no body,” Blaire snapped, downing the brandy. It burnt, mixing well with the fire within her.

“Julie and Landon could have loved to see you,” Peter pushed on.

Blaire shrugged, trying to throw off the immense guilt resting on her.

Cole’s parents were amazing. They doted on their son and held out hope for his safe return for years. It was only two years ago when they decided it was time to close the casket and move on. To London or Bath or some place not here.

But Blaire couldn’t do that.

She spent her entire life determined to search for Cole. His disappearance was her fault and her responsibility. Giving up on him and moving on could never be an option.

“Will Henry join you on your visit to Valerie?” Peter asked as he poured her more brandy.

“I’d rather be alone.”

“You can’t go alone. It’s dangerous for a young woman.”

Blaire snorted.

“Let me send Matthew. I’m sure he’d love to come and pay his respects.”

“Someone say my name?” a young man appeared beside Blaire, leaning against the counter. A mirror image of his father, only twenty-something years younger, he was blonde and cute. He reminded Blaire of a rabbit. Safe. Harmless. Not someone she could rely on to protect her.

“What do you need, son?” Peter asked.

“Gertie wants some more of today’s special and the Cotton brothers are wantin’ refills. Everyone else is fine for now.” Matthew looked at Blaire with his flushed face and winked. She smiled in return, but more out of politeness.

It felt like yesterday when she lived there. Memories of Matthew tattling on Cole and her, ruining their planned misadventures, remained fresh in her mind and she'd be lying if she didn't still hold a small grudge.

“Do you need anything, Blaire?”

“I’m good.”

“Matthew,” Peter began, “would you be willing to take Blaire to the cemetery tomorrow early evening to visit her grandmother?”

“Of course!” Matthew answered in excitement.

“It’s not a date,” Blaire added, watching in fascination as he turned a deep crimson.

“I know that,” he mumbled. “Who takes a girl to a cemetery for a date?”

Peter shook his head as his son scurried away in embarrassment. “Go easy on him. Us Lesters aren’t known romantics.”

“I’m not looking for a relationship,” Blaire reminded Peter as she had everyone else. “I’m not staying. When school starts, I’m leaving and becoming a detective.”

“A Miss. Sherlock Holmes. I like the sound of that.” Peter held out his shot glass.

“You’re not trying to get me drunk, are you?” Blaire asked him, suspicious.

“Last one, I swear. It’s a toast to your future. May you become the best detective there is and never want for anythin’.”

Blaire plucked up her shot and crashed it against his.

“The best detective,” she agreed, downing the alcohol.