I didn’t answer him.

I turned off the lamp and lay down, staring at the dark ceiling.

I stayed awake until the sky outside began to turn a bruised, winter gray.

The alarm went off at six.

I got up and went downstairs to start breakfast, my mind racing with questions.

The guest room door on the first floor was closed, silent.

I set the kitchen table, my fingers cold against the ceramic plates.

Soon, I heard the heavy, uneven footsteps of Eleanor coming down the stairs.

Lily’s bright laughter followed right behind her.

They walked into the kitchen together.

Lily sat down, immediately reaching for the maple syrup.

“Sleep well, sweetie?” I asked, watching Eleanor closely as she took her seat.

Eleanor’s eyes were fixed on the kitchen window, her fingers twitching against the tablecloth.

“Mommy,” Lily said, pouring the syrup.

“Nanna told me a story about a closet in the old house.”

“She said there are keys hidden under the floorboards.”

Eleanor froze, her breathing suddenly turning shallow and rapid.

She grabbed the edge of the table, her knuckles turning white.