“I don’t know,” Sarah admitted, “but I’m sure there’s some explanation.”

“No one knew about the baby,” Mrs. Decker reminded her. “No one. Everyone thinks Maggie died of a fever in France.”

“Yes, but-”

“No one knew, outside of our family,” Mrs. Decker went on relentlessly. “She must have been talking to Maggie. Did you… did you hear the baby cry?” she asked, her voice breaking.

Sarah instinctively took her hand. “Mother, please…”

Mrs. Decker’s fingers closed around hers like a vise. “You heard it, didn’t you? A baby was crying.”

“Yes, I… I heard something that sounded like a baby crying,” Sarah admitted.

“You see? And what about those other messages? The one that Kathy got, and Mr. Sharpe? They knew the spirits who were speaking. They understood the messages.”

Sarah had no explanation, but she still wasn’t convinced. “So it seemed.”

“Seemed? Kathy was certain. I must ask her what it meant, the information about a diamond brooch. I know she understood it, though. That was obvious.”

“She appeared to,” was all Sarah could manage.

Mrs. Decker turned to look out the window again. The carriage moved slowly through the crowded streets. People walked past on the sidewalk, giving them hardly a glance. “Maggie was there,” she said softly after a few moments.

Sarah closed her eyes and bit her tongue. She mustn’t say what she was thinking. Her mother was as stubborn as she, and Sarah would never give up on something just because her mother advised her to. In fact, she’d be more likely to persevere if her mother advised her to stop. She swallowed down her frustration and willed her voice to steadiness. “If you believe Maggie was there, then she heard you say you were sorry,” she pointed out reasonably. “You accomplished your purpose.” This was the only reason she had agreed to go with her mother in the first place.

Mrs. Decker looked at her sharply, as if trying to judge her sincerity. “That’s true.”

Sarah felt the knot of tension in her stomach ease a bit. “I know that must be a great burden lifted from you. I may not approve, but if this… what happened today… If this gives you peace, then I’m happy for you.”

“Thank you, Sarah. That means a lot to me.”

“But I hope this will be the end of it.” Her mother stiffened in silent resistance, but Sarah hurried on, determined to follow Maeve’s advice not to allow Mrs. Decker to be taken advantage of. “Did you notice that Mrs. Burke didn’t seem very happy with the message she got today? Neither did Mr. Sharpe. I have a feeling that you might not always be pleased with what you hear.”

“I wasn’t pleased today,” her mother reminded her.

“Exactly. If all you wanted was an opportunity to tell Maggie you were sorry, you got that today.”

“But she didn’t forgive me,” Mrs. Decker reminded her.

“And what if she never does?” Sarah asked ruthlessly. “What if she curses you or says hurtful things? Would you be able to bear it?”

“I-”

“I know you’ve suffered all these years, Mother, but it could be even worse. I beg you to stop now. You’ve asked for Maggie’s forgiveness. That’s all we can ever do when we’ve wronged someone. I think she would have forgiven you in life, if she’d had the chance. We have to believe she would also forgive you in death.”

“If only I could be sure,” Mrs. Decker said, her voice catching on tears.

“I’m sure,” Sarah said. “Mother, don’t do this to yourself again. Let Maggie’s spirit rest in peace.”

Her mother drew an unsteady breath. “I suppose you’re right.”

“I am, I promise you.”

“I feel sorry for that poor girl.”

“Who?” Sarah asked in surprise.

“Madame Serafina.”

“Why?”

“That must be so difficult for her. You saw her afterwards. She was exhausted.”

Or pretending to be, Sarah thought. If she was too tired to continue, the clients would have to pay to come back another time to finish the session, just like Maeve had predicted. Poor Mr. Cunningham had gotten nothing at all for his fee today. Or Mrs. Gittings either. “She seems very young to be involved in all this,” Sarah said.

“Mrs. Burke told me she’s been doing it since she was a child. It’s something you’re born with, she said.”

“Really?” Sarah couldn’t imagine a child suddenly realizing she could commune with spirits. “That’s amazing.”

“Yes, it is,” Mrs. Decker agreed vaguely. She was looking out the window again, thinking.

Sarah didn’t want her thinking about the séance anymore, but she knew better than to say so. She was wracking her brain for a neutral topic when the carriage came to a stop, and Sarah realized they were in front of her house. “You’re coming in for a while, aren’t you?” Sarah asked. “I told Catherine you would.”

“Oh, dear, I’m sorry, Sarah, but I just can’t. I’m… Well, I’m as exhausted as Madame Serafina, I’m afraid. Tell her I’ll come tomorrow and bring her something nice.”

“Perhaps that’s best. You do look worn out. Try to get some rest and put all of this behind you,” Sarah advised.

Mrs. Decker managed a small smile. “Of course I will. Thank you again for coming with me, my dear. I can’t imagine how I would have managed without you.”

“I’m glad you asked me. Get some rest now, and I’ll see you tomorrow,” Sarah said as the coachman opened the door.

Catherine was disappointed when Mrs. Decker didn’t come in for a visit, but Sarah’s promise that she would come tomorrow and bring a present mollified her a bit. Their elderly neighbor, Mrs. Ellsworth, had spend the morning with the girls, making cookies, and Sarah had to taste them. Eventually, Maeve took Catherine upstairs to play, leaving the two women alone in the kitchen, lingering over their coffee.

“Maeve tells me you went to a séance this morning,” Mrs. Ellsworth said casually, but she didn’t fool Sarah one bit. Mrs. Ellsworth had been the foremost authority on everyone else’s business since long before Sarah had moved to Bank Street. She’d spent many years of her life sweeping her front steps so she could keep her eye on everyone’s comings and goings, and nothing was too insignificant to escape her notice. Her keen observations had saved Sarah from disaster more than once, so she had long since forgiven her for being perhaps a bit too interested in Sarah’s business. And since Sarah had taken Catherine to live with her, Mrs. Ellsworth had proven herself more than a good friend to all of them, turning her full energies to teaching the girls housewifely skills instead of minding other people’s business.

“Have you ever been to a séance?” Sarah asked her.

“Heavens, no!” she exclaimed, surprising Sarah.

“Really? I would have thought…” She let her voice trail off awkwardly.

“Because I’m superstitious?” Mrs. Ellsworth guessed slyly. Her superstitions were legendary. “There’s a big difference between throwing salt over your shoulder and talking to the dead.”

“I guess you’re right,” Sarah admitted a bit sheepishly.

“What was it like?” she asked, leaning forward eagerly. “I’ve always wondered.”

Where to begin? “I know it’s all fake, of course, but-”

“Are you sure?” Mrs. Ellsworth challenged, quite seriously.

“Of course it is. Nobody can talk to the dead.”

“Are you sure?” she repeated. “I’ve heard stories from people… regular people, not the ones who set themselves up in business, mind you, but people like us. An old friend of mine, her mother who’d been dead more than twenty years appeared one day and warned her that her daughter was involved with a terrible man. She was, too. My friend put a stop to it just in time.”

“I know things sometimes happen that we can’t explain,” Sarah said. “But your friend didn’t try to contact her mother, did she? She didn’t sit down in a dark room with a bunch of strangers and try to summon her spirit.”

Mrs. Ellsworth tapped her upper lip with her finger thoughtfully. “It does sound odd when you say it like that.”