Avery allowed her lids to fall open fully, focusing her sight somewhere on the ceiling. “Feels impossible most days. Your apartment temperature is so much more amenable than mine.”
“Have you adjusted your thermostat?”
Avery’s lips mouthed the word. She frowned. “From the Greek?”
“I’m not sure,” said Saga.
“Thermo, likely derived from the Greektherme, meaning heat, andstat…standing or stationary?” Avery sat up straight, her head rising off the pillowy rest of the chair. “Stationary heat?”
Saga smiled. “That was kinda fantastic to watch you work that out.”
“Is it some kind of boiler? Keeping heat in?”
Saga shook her head and stood. “I’ll show you.” She led Avery to thesmall box by her bookshelf. “It’s pretty old, but what isn’t in this building? See, you move this little lever…” Saga demonstrated, pushing it past its current position so it would engage the heater once more. “And the heat comes on.” She moved it back to its place at a comfortable 22°C.
“Fascinating,” remarked Avery. “I’ll have to find where this fantastic little contraption exists in my apartment.”
“Don’t be surprised if you smell dust burning at first. Not sure the last time the heater was used up there. Should be all right though.” She scrutinized her own thermostat a moment before inquiring, “Do you know what the C stands for?”
“I would assume centigrade.”
Saga hemmed on this. She wasn’t entirely wrong. “We call it Celsius now.”
Avery’s eyebrows lifted, pleased. “Good for him.”
“Who?”
“Anders Celsius. Swedish mathematician, physicist, and astronomy professor, proposed a unit for measuring temperature in 1742. Though a year later a French physicist suggested we invert the measurements, and it apparently caught on rather wildly in the scientific community. I’m happy to hear Anders was still given credit—that’s not often the case.” Avery raised a finger importantly. “Speaking ofcase, we should get back to this…” She made her way to the boxes. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, but do you think you could stand to look at a few photographs the detectives took when they came to collect the garbage and such? See if you notice anything odd?”
Saga didn’t think looking at photographs of her grandmother’s home should cause an issue. It was just walking in it. “I want to help in any way I can.”
Avery pulled a few photographs from one of the boxes and held them out to her. “Anything that seems even a little out of the ordinary, no matter how Mundane.”
Saga took them and slowly sank into the armchair opposite Avery. “That word means something different to you, doesn’t it?”
“Hmm?”
“You’ve said it a few times. I remember when you were asking about the café—you said something about not being sure how mundane it had become. What does it mean?”
“Of this world. Non-magical.”
“Oh,” Saga chuckled in surprise and focused on the photos in her lap. The living room looked the same as it always did. Comforting in its predictability. “Well, that explains a lot.”
“What does it mean to you?”
“Boring.”
The context of the conversation Saga had thought they were having that day dawned on Avery and she rubbed the back of her neck. “I am so sorry if you thought I was implying…”
“It’s okay,” Saga assured. “I’m just glad we understand each other a little better now.” She flipped to a photograph of the kitchen. Through the photographs, the warm shades of the wood and lighting seemed colder, empty. Perhaps it was the flash of the camera, or simply the emotional scar left by watching her grandmother collapse. The teacups were still out, having never been used that morning. The simple white china was uncomfortably stark against the tablecloth beneath. Hospital white against a deep bloodlike burgundy. Saga shuddered.
Another photograph of the cupboards and the open dishwasher. Such an odd glimpse into her grandmother’s life. Three port glasses, carefully stacked—she’d have one every night before bed, a tradition that spanned all the way back to her honeymoon. Then there were a few plates, cups—the small plates that she’d placed Saga’s lemon tartlets onto, and the teacups they’d used, and… “Huh…”
“Did you find something?”
“Maybe nothing…” Saga frowned and flipped to the next photograph that showed a more detailed image of the contents of the dishwasher. “But there might be something inside the dishwasher.”
“Inside the…” Avery looked mildly disturbed.
