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In the early evening Penelope repotted a few plants in the greenhouse and then ate an apple for dinner while sitting on the back patio. Enid toyed with fireflies, rising up on her back paws and swatting at them, intentionally not making contact. They seemed to be playing a game of chase. The almost-full moon shone through the tree branches, turning the edges of everything silvery. A warm breeze blew the scent of roses through the backyard, which reminded her of the pink roses her daddy used to bring home to her and Lilith when they were girls.

Pink roses, Penelope thought. A flower that conveys elegance and refinement, something Lilith and I were slow to practice. Pink roses also symbolized joy and happiness, two states of being that teased Penelope with their existence but never quite settled into her hands. She stood and called Enid inside.

* * *

A loud banging noise caused Penelope to jerk upright in bed. She'd been tossing and turning all night, kicking off the covers in a sweat and then yanking them back up when she started to shiver from the air-conditioning.

She lifted her cell phone from the nightstand. The face lit up, displaying the time—12:12 a.m.

Had she dreamed the sound? The thumping started again, softer but more persistent. Penelope crept out into the hallway. The noise was coming from the bedroom Mattie always stayed in. Thump, thump, thump. The sound reminded Penelope of a loose shutter knocking against the side of a house during a storm.

Penelope flipped on the bedroom light. Enid sat on Mattie's bed and stared at the closet. Was someone in there waiting to jump out and grab her?

She flung open the louvered closet doors and something heavy fell out, covering Penelope's head and draping down her shoulders. Her scream pierced the night, and Penelope shamelessly flailed around, knocking backward into the bed. Enid yowled her displeasure.

She yanked the object from her head and stared down at the wad of fabric in her arms. It was the colorful quilt she'd sewn for Mattie years ago. Every October she put it on Mattie's bed for the fall and winter. Penelope's gaze drifted to the closet. Nothing else was in there. No monster trying to get out. Only a determined quilt.

Penelope folded the quilt and left it on Mattie's bed. She shouted an apology to Enid, who had disappeared to somewhere in the house. No chance she would be able to fall back asleep now, so she shuffled downstairs to make herself a cup of chamomile tea. In the kitchen Penelope filled the kettle and set it on the stove. She walked into the pantry to get the honey, but it had crystallized and formed intricate honey-flavored shapes on the jar. So she grabbed the sugar canister instead and placed it on the counter. When she scooped a small spoonful of sugar into her mug, a clinking noise sounded.

Penelope tilted her mug and inspected the inside. A blue stone the size of a pebble sat among the sugar granules. She plucked it out and rested it in her palm. Lapis lazuli. Penelope's throat tightened. "I see you," she said to the stone. Then she looked around the kitchen. "I don't understand. What truth are you trying to tell me?"

Saying she didn't understand wasn't completely honest because Penelope had a strong sense that whatever was unfolding had to do with Lilith and Mattie. She'd like to think they were both on their way to Ivy Ridge for a surprise visit. But the knot in her stomach hinted otherwise.

When the tea was ready, Penelope sat in the window seat in the kitchen nook with her knees pulled up toward her chest, cupping the mug in both hands. She stared out into the dreamy moonlit backyard, drinking her tea, until she dozed off with her head leaned against the windowpane.

A ringing phone awoke Penelope as the sun rose. She opened her eyes, disoriented and with a crick in her neck. Why was she in the kitchen? The phone rang again, and Penelope's mind snapped to attention. She scrambled out of the window seat and snatched her cell phone from the kitchen island. When she swiped to answer the call, her voice failed her.

"Penelope?"

Words jumbled together for another second before Penelope could use them. "Mattie? Is everything okay?" But Penelope already knew the answer. Mattie responded with a sob. "Oh, baby, tell me what's happened."

"It's... Mom."

Penelope's legs buckled, and she sagged down onto the tile floor. She clutched the cell phone like a life preserver as air squeezed from her lungs.

"She's gone," Mattie whispered in a heartbreaking voice. "She died last night in her sleep."

CHAPTER TWO 

Mattie

Three days after her mom died, Mattie Russell stood on the sidewalk on North Wells Street outside of Century Tower in Chicago. They had lived in eleven cities across the United States. Two years was the maximum time her mom wanted to stay anywhere, but they'd lived in Chicago longer than anywhere else. For the past two and a half years, she and Lilith had called this luxury apartment home. When Mattie questioned Lilith about why they weren't packing up and leaving at their usual two-year mark, Lilith flashed her brilliant smile and said, "Time will uncover all secrets." Cryptic as ever. Years ago Mattie stopped trying to figure out her mom. Whatever motivated Lilith's life choices was as transparent as oil paint, but living and traveling with her was the only kind of life that Mattie knew.