Claire’s mother has never gone in for chats, and Claire has no idea why she’d want to start now. “Mom, it’s not—There are monsters here, and I’m worried something really bad’s going to happen to Grammy that I can’t deal with—”
“We’ve had this conversation a hundred times already,” Claire’s mother snaps. “We’re not having it again. Helping an old woman out with her chores isn’t going to kill you, and she doesn’t feel her disease is serious enough to warrant live-in help.”
“What? I didn’t say anything about the chores. I was—”
“No talking back, young lady. I know you’re not happy about being in the country for the summer, but try to make the best of it.” Her mother’s tone softens then, the way it always does when she gets too harsh, as if she’s finally heard herself. “There are plenty of fun things to do in Indianola. Have you been to the beach yet?”
Claire sighs. She’s living in a town full of monsters and her mother’s asking her about the beach. “Yes.”
“Good. Oh! And of course you’ll be in town for the Stargazer’s Masquerade. That’s in July, and I always had such fun at it. It’s a costume party, you know. Ask Grammy about it.”
“I already heard about it. Listen, Mom—”
“Sorry, dear, I really have to run. Call me if you need anything.”
Her mother’s favorite lie.
“Sure,” Claire says, which is how she always responds. They say their goodbyes and Claire hangs up the phone. Her mother’s voice rings in her ear, and for a moment Claire is homesick—not for her mother, necessarily, or even their messy house where the TV’s always blaring in the background. But for Houston, for civilization itself. She misses Josh and her friends from school.
She misses living in a place where there aren’t any monsters, for God’s sake. A place where the city limits don’t strip away your memory.
At least Julie’s coming over today. Claire peels herself away from the wall and finishes buttoning up her plaid white-and-blue overall dress in the living room. Then she slips out onto the porch to wait.
Grammy acted weird when Claire mentioned she was visiting Julie as she helped walk Grammy into her room for her nap. “Not Audrey?” Grammy said, and when Claire shook her head, Grammy frowned like she didn’t approve. Claire can’t get the approval of anyone, it seems.
The sea breeze is up today, and it makes the shade of the porch almost pleasant. At two o’clock exactly, a bright red Mustang pulls into the driveway. Julie waves from the driver’s seat, and Claire jumps up and runs over to the car.
“Hey!” Julie waves again as Claire climbs in. “Why were you waiting outside? It’s so hot.”
“It’s hotter inside,” Claire says. “Grammy doesn’t have AC.”
“Oh, that’s right.” Julie rolls her eyes and sets the car’s air-conditioning to high. “There you go. So you’re nice and cool.”
Claire smiles and repositions the vents so that they’re blowing on her face. She’s glad to be out of Grammy’s house and away from her mother’s phone call. She hopes she can forget her family today, even if it’s just for a little while.
Julie backs out of the driveway. Some riotous, angry music plays on the stereo. Claire doesn’t recognize it, but she doesn’t want to admit she doesn’t recognize it.
“Thanks for picking me up,” Claire says.
“It’s all good. It’s not like it’s that far away.” Julie turns down an unfamiliar street. Trees arch overhead like the ceiling of a cathedral.
“Oh, then I could have ridden my bike,” Claire says.
“No way. It’s too hot for that.” Julie picks up speed and the trees zip by, concealing flashes of houses. She drums her fingers against the steering wheel, nodding to the beat of the music. Even though they aren’t talking, the silence is companionable, and Claire feels more comfortable than she does with Audrey. Being in the car with Julie feels natural. It’s not that way with Audrey.
“Here we are!” Julie slows down and pulls into a long driveway. The trees clear out, revealing a large, neatly manicured lawn. The house itself is huge, a hundred-year-old mansion with big gaping windows and stairs leading up to the door. A palm tree grows in front, and Claire feels a sudden rock of dizziness when she sees it. That palm tree is familiar.
No—the entire house is familiar.
“This is going to sound crazy,” Claire says. “But I swear I’ve seen your house before.”
“Really?” Julie pulls her car around to a detached garage. Claire cranes her neck around so she can keep looking at the house. Seeing it from the side, she doesn’t get any flicker of recognition. It’s only from the front, when she’s looking at it head-on.
“Yeah. Like I’ve seen a photograph of it somewhere.”
“Weird.” Julie pulls into the garage and shuts off the engine. There are spaces for two other cars, although only one is full. Claire isn’t sure what kind of car it is, but it’s small and sleek and looks expensive.
“Yeah, I don’t want to sound like some creepy stalker or something—”
“You don’t.” Julie laughs. “Maybe my house is famous and I just don’t know it.”
They climb out of the car. Claire squints down the driveway, sifting through her memories, trying to figure out where she’s seen the house.
“It’s just from the front,” Claire says. “Isn’t that weird?”
“Weirder things have happened,” Julie says. “I have a summer job as a monster catcher.”
And then Claire’s thoughts click into place. She has seen the house as a photograph—a black-and-white photograph, hanging on her bedroom wall. Sudek Mansion, 1890.
Did this sprawling house used to belong to her family? If it did, it was well before even her grandmother’s time.
“Come on, we can go in through the side,” Julie says. “It leads into the kitchen, so we’re guaranteed not to see my mom.”
Claire follows Julie through a garden shriveled by the heat and up to a screen door. Julie unlocks it and they go inside, into the kitchen. All the lights are turned off. The house has a warm, lived-in quality, despite the luxuriance of the furniture and decorations. They head toward the stairs. Claire takes everything in, the framed artwork on the walls, the expensive-looking antique chairs, the chandelier hanging above the staircase.
“I know where I’ve seen your house before,” Claire blurts out when she can’t stand it anymore.
“What?” Julie glances over at her. They’re on the second floor, walking on a Persian rug that runs the length of the hallway. “Where?”
“You promise you won’t think I’m some crazed stalker?”
Julie laughs. “No! Here, we’re going up into the attic.” She grabs a cord dangling from the ceiling and pulls. Steps unfold like magic.
“There’s a picture of it in my bedroom,” Claire says. “My bedroom at Grammy’s house, I mean. She’s had it for years.” She pauses. “It’s labeled Sudek Mansion.”