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“Shh,” Maisy shushed her. “Do you hear that?”
Sasha tilted her head and strained to listen. “Hear what?”
“Voices. I think I hear voices.” Maisy’s voice was a whisper.
They reached the bottom of the staircase, and Sasha squinted into the gloomy corridor. She wasn’t sure how narrowing her field of view could concentrate her hearing, but it seemed to work. She made a mental note to look it up later and was about to tell Maisy she didn’t hear anything when she heard it. A soft murmur.
“It could be voices—women’s voices. Or it could be the wind,” she said. “It was really howling earlier.”
“Could be. But it has the cadence of a conversation. Two voices alternating back and forth. Wonder which room we’re nearing?”
“We’re somewhere on the first floor,” Sasha answered.
“Yeah, I think we should be near the front of the house, but I’m a bit disoriented.”
Maisy slipped off her shoes and carried them in her hand. Sasha glanced at the floor and braced herself before following suit.
She shivered and let out a small yelp as her bare soles connected with the cold hardwood. “Yikes! Remind me not to wear a sleeveless cocktail dress and no hose the next time we poke around in a secret passage during a blizzard.”
“I promise the next time we’re in this exact situation, I’ll give you a heads-up.”
“Thanks. You’re a peach.”
“Iama peach,” Maisy informed her. “A Georgia peach.”
They stifled their laughter and crept toward the noise. As they walked, the hallway expanded. Maisy was able to stand up straight. She arched her back and cracked her neck.
Twenty yards later, they spotted soft amber light. Lit wall sconces lined the corridor. Up ahead, Sasha saw a plush patterned rug. She ran to it, her bare feet slapping on the cold floor, then sighed as she sank her toes into the warm fabric.
Maisy came to a stop beside her and looked down. “This rug matches the one in the room with the piano.”
“The parlor?”
“Yep.”
They edged forward until they reached a wide wall. Maisy put a finger to her mouth and pointed at the vent cut into the wall above them. Sasha nodded her understanding.
Maisy had been right. Two women were having a conversation.
“That’s Annette, right?” Maisy whispered in Sasha’s ear.
Sasha nodded. “And Tessa,” she whispered back.
* * *
Transfixed, they stared up at the vent and listened. Tessa’s voice floated down toward them.
“… really fathered a child?”
“I have no idea,” Annette replied. “He never mentioned it to me—or even hinted at it, for that matter.”
There was a pause. Then Tessa said, “You were all at your folks for Christmas, weren’t you?”
“Right. And the fact that they have a grandchild seems like the sort of thing he might have mentioned. They’d be over the moon. And so would I—if it’s true,” Annette qualified.
“Rex was a lot of things, but he wasn’t a fabulist,” Tessa countered.
“I know. But the whole idea seems so farfetched. As far as I know, he wasn’t even dating anyone. “
