And then she had seen something similar in her bathroom mirror last night…but no, that was just a dream, no doubt stoked by the mansion’s shrouded mirror.
“Now, why don’t you tell me why you slept on my couch with my gun,” urged Ellen, settling in at the table.
“I’m not sure where to start.”
“Start at the beginning. Last night, after we talked, you went to your apartment and…?”
“I worked on my book outline for a while, then went to bed. I woke up suddenly around three a.m., and thought I heard someone coming up the stairs and scratching at my door.”
“Are you sure you weren’t dreaming?”
“I…might have been. The thing is…when I looked outside, I saw a woman on the lawn. And your back door was wide open.” Harper left out the part about the woman’s glowing eyes—surely that was a trick of the light, or her imagination in overdrive.
Ellen reached out and squeezed her hand. “You must have been dreaming, sweetie.”
“That’s what I thought at first—but I really don’t think so. There was a woman dancing on the grass in your backyard. She wore a long white gown and a Mexican shawl.”
“A white gown and a rebozo?” She sat back. “Huh. Well, now. That might be a different kettle of fish altogether.”
“Meaning?”
“That sounds to me like the Lady in White,” Ellen said calmly, as if discussing the weather.
Harper froze, the mug of coffee halfway to her lips.
“They say that if you see her face in the mirror,” Ellen continued, “she might just pay you a visit.”
“And why would she do that?”
“I suppose she has something to tell you.”
“The Lady in White,” Harper repeated, keeping her voice carefully neutral.
Ellen nodded.
“You honestly believe in such things?”
“Don’t you?”
Harper shook her head emphatically.
“I suppose I just assumed you would, given your area of study, and your interest in the Perles Mansion.”
“I’m a historian. My interest is purely intellectual.”
“I believe the departed may still be among us. They might visit us in our sleep, or sometimes to whisper a word of warning. Haven’t you ever been visited by a departed loved one in your dreams?” Ellen stirred half a spoonful of sugar into her mug and blew at the steam. “I find it’s often when things seem dire. After all, one can only see the stars shining when shrouded in darkness.”
Harper thought of Sigrid, who had said something similar. “So youdobelieve in ghosts.”
Ellen shrugged. “When we gaze up at the night sky, we see the light of stars that have been dead for thousands of years. Maybe humans are the same way. Maybe some souls, especially the powerful ones, echo through the generations.”
In the silvery light of a new day, Harper’s fears felt silly. She stood in the driveway and stared up at her apartment. The door was now closed. Everything seemed normal. Maybe Ellen was right; maybe it had all been a bad dream stoked by the trauma during the ghost tour and then the odd sensations inside the Perles Mansion. And the bloody scene in the mirrored room. And that shrouded mirror.
MaybeHarperhad been the one sleepwalking.
As she was trying to psych herself up to enter her apartment alone, a dusty Camry pulled up to the curb.
“Good morning,” Tariq said as he climbed out of the car, holding up a pink-and-white-striped box and a cardboard tray with two paper coffee cups. “Thought I’d surprise you with some goodies from the Monterey Donut shop. Best apple fritters in town.”
