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“Did you talk to Alessa while I was gone?”
I hear her pawing through shelves from what sounds about half a mile away.
“Yes.”
“And?”
“She was confused. A little annoyed. But understanding. And had about a million more questions than I could answer.”
“Bring her a present. There must be something down here she’ll like.”
“Seeing me in these shoes is all the present either of you needs.”
“Somehow I believe that.”
We dig around for another half hour. I have the cart piled high with complete garbage. Even if one of these puzzles is the doorway to Narnia, going through them all could take years. Goddammit, Sally. You’re getting my car. You could have come across with a better clue.
“Stark?”
“Yes.”
“What’s this over here?”
“I can’t see around corners, dear.”
“Go back to the beginning and follow my coins, Hansel. I’ll wait here.”
It takes me ten minutes to get back to the staircase and another twenty to track her down. Her coat and face are streaked with dust. She has a wheelbarrow full of the same crap I have.
“Want to see the shoes?” she says.
“Now?”
“We’re going to Hell. Indulge me.”
“Fine.”
She puts them on the floor and steps into them. I’m no longer annoyed.
“Admit it,” she says. “You’re picturing me in nothing but these shoes.”
“Well . . .”
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
She steps out of them and puts them back in her pocket.
I look at the shelves.
“Yes, I’m suddenly distracted by impure thoughts, but that’s not the only reason you called me over, right?”
“Of course not.”
She points into the distance.
“What’s that?”
It looks like a broken-down, dried-up cornfield from here.
