Now, he was closer to Emma’s height.

Emma took two small steps forward, her shoes squeaking slightly on the floorboards.

She reached into her own little pocket, as if looking for something to show him.

Then she remembered the silver watch was in my apron pocket.

She pointed at me. “Watch,” she said to Julian.

Julian smiled, a faint, dry line on his face that did not reach his eyes but softened his harsh features.

“Your mother is keeping it safe for you,” he said.

Emma nodded solemnly.

“My daughter had a watch like that,” Julian said, his voice dropping an octave.

I held my breath, afraid that any movement would break the quiet spell that had fallen over the room.

“She lost her mother when she was very young,” he continued, looking past Emma, out at the white-capped waves of Lake Michigan.

“And then, a year later, I lost her, too.”

The words seemed to cost him something heavy, as if he were dragging them up from a place he kept locked away.

The rumors about Mercer House had always mentioned a tragedy, but the staff never dared speak of it.