they hang them up by their broken hind legs and—”
“I think we get the idea,” Ivan said. “How about salad?”
Lucy sliced off a piece of pork chop. “I’d hate for this pig to have died in vain.”
Stephanie tenderly pushed her pork chop to one side and poked at her mashed potatoes. “You can’t mistreat a potato, can you?”
Melody crunched on a cucumber slice and looked around. “It’s nice to eat in the dining room on a real table. Better vibes. The house needed its furniture back.”
It was a screwy way to put it, Stephanie thought, but the furniture and the house definitely belonged together. Sounds no longer echoed through hollow rooms. Clocks ticked in soothing cadence. Etchings and oil paintings gave character to blank walls. It had taken only two days to get Ivan and his furniture moved in, and the transformation was amazing. Haben felt like a home. It felt like a haven. It wasn’t just the architecture that had given the house its stability. The furniture was an integral part of the building, and as much as Stephanie hated to admit it, so was Ivan.
“How many bottoms do you suppose have sat on this chair?” Melody asked. “Think about it. A hundred years’ worth of bottoms. And now my bottom is added to the list. It makes me feel so existential. It makes me feel at one with all the ghosts of bottoms past.”
Lucy looked at Stephanie. “All the ghosts of bottoms past?” she repeated. “Excuse me?”
Melody turned her black-rimmed eyes to Ivan. “Tess is happier, too. Boy, was she ticked off at you.”
Ivan buttered a herb biscuit. “You’ve been talking to Tess?”
“I met her on the widow’s walk the other day, and we’ve gotten real tight.”
Ivan nodded. “Give her my best.”
Stephanie reconsidered her pork chop. She sliced into it, stared at it for a second on the end of her fork, and decided she wasn’t hungry after all. “I rented a room today.” She took a slip of paper from her shirt pocket and read from it. “Mr. and Mrs. Platz from Lanham, Maryland. Apparently one of the guests on board the Savage told them about Haben. They’re coming up to see the foliage. They’ll be here tomorrow.”
Ivan, Melody, and Lucy simultaneously turned to look out the big bay window.
“There isn’t any more foliage,” Lucy said. “Peak color was last week, and the storm blew all the leaves off the trees.”
“Are you sure?” Stephanie had been so busy trying not to think about Ivan that she hadn’t had time to think about anything else. She went to the window to take a better look. They were right.
“Well, it’s too late now. They’re on their way. Besides, it isn’t as if we don’t have any foliage. It’s just that the foliage is on the ground, right?” she rationalized. She started to clear the table. “While we’ve got guests in the house, I’d like everyone to look nice for dinner. Melody, I know this is going to cramp your style, but I’d like your hair to be all one color. And please don’t play your electric guitar on the widow’s walk. And don’t tell them about the pork chops and the pigs’ legs getting broken.”
Ivan collected plates and followed Stephanie into the kitchen. “Any instructions for me?”
Stephanie gave him a slow, considering look. She had a list of instructions a mile long, and they didn’t have anything to do with the guests. They had to do with amorous kisses and sensuous fondlings and the fact that she wasn’t getting any. Ivan Rasmussen flirted with her. He watched her every move. And his body language was friendly, very friendly. But he was definitely avoiding a more intimate relationship.
She took the dishes from Ivan and put them in the dishwasher. “No instructions,” she said, “but I have a problem with the closet door in my bedroom. It’s locked, and I haven’t got a key.”
Ivan looked puzzled. “How did it get locked? Those closet doors haven’t been locked for a hundred years. Nobody has a key.”
“Well, somebody has one. I’m telling you, my door is locked.”
Ivan took a cookie from the cookie jar. “Let’s go take a look at it.”
They climbed the wide spiral stairs leading to the second floor and traveled the short hallway, which was now carpeted with a burgundy-and-beige Oriental runner. Stephanie had chosen the smallest of the guest rooms for herself. Melody was living in the maids’ quarters in the attic, under the cupola. Lucy and Ivan occupied