She smiled a small, tight, triumphant smile and turned to go upstairs.

“And if you’re thinking of searching his room for the missing packages, don’t bother,” I called up the stairs after her. “Already done that myself. Several times.”

She chuckled mirthlessly at that.

With my luck, Clay would come barging back in and catch her at it. I really wanted to be gone before that happened. Where was Rose Noire?

As if my thoughts had summoned her, the front door opened very slowly and Rose Noire peeked into the foyer. Her wild mane of hair frizzed out from beneath a purple knitted hat, and her expression was anxious.

“Meg?”

“There you are,” I said. “Just in time. Come in.”

“I can feel the negative energy trying to push me away when I try to cross the threshold.” She stepped inside, as if with an effort, and planted herself solidly, obviously expecting the negative forces to attack. “There’s something evil in this house.”

“Not at the moment. I chased him out for the rest of the day.” Rose Noire had taken an almost instant dislike to Clay, claiming he had a very negative aura. I didn’t share her faith in auras, mantras, energy work, and whatever other New Age concepts currently fascinated her. But I had to admit she was spot-on when it came to sniffing out a bad egg like Clay. “Close the door—you’re letting the cold air in.”

“Cold but clean air,” she said. But she closed the door as she said it. She was wearing a deep-purple dress instead of her typical pastels, and a lot more charms and amulets than usual hung from her neck and wrists. “It’s not just him,” she said. “There’s a lot of dark energy in this house. Is it okay if I do a cleansing while I’m here?”

“As long as you keep the decorators happy and busy and don’t let them break anything else, you can do anything you want.” I wasn’t sure I believed in Rose Noire’s smudging and herb sprinkling, but at worst it did no harm. And most of the time, it actually made me feel better. Anything that could improve the atmosphere here in the house was fine with me.

“By the way,” I said. “Clay isn’t allowed back until either Randall or I say so. If he tries to get in—”

“He shall not pass!” Rose Noire exclaimed, drawing herself up to her full height and lifting her chin in defiance.

“We’ll be fine, dear.” Mother appeared in the archway. “If Clay comes back, Eustace and I can help Rose Noire handle him.”

“And I’ll be here to help, too.” Randall was coming down the stairway, with his phone to his ear. “I’m calling him now to lay down the law. Clay? When you get this, give me a call. We need to talk.”

“And there’s a reporter here somewhere,” I went on to Rose Noire. “Student. Long red hair. Name of Jessica.”

“Right here.” Jessica appeared on the stairway.

“This is Rose Noire,” I said. “She’s taking over for me. She can answer any questions you have. Feel free to roam around, but please remember that the designers have a tight deadline. Oh, Rose Noire—when Ivy gets back—”

“I’m back.” Ivy looked up from the rear of the foyer, where she was sitting cross-legged on the floor, dabbing paint on the unfinished mural.

“Sorry, I didn’t see you come in.” No one ever did. Ivy was ethereally thin and painfully shy, and appeared to have mastered the art of fading into the woodwork. “This is Jessica. She’s a reporter from the student paper. She’s very impressed with your work, and would like take pictures of your paintings if you’re okay with that, and interview you if you have time.”

Ivy nodded uncertainly.

“But give her a chance to settle in and get a little work done right now,” I said to Jessica.

“Yes, let me fix you some tea,” Rose Noire said. “And show you Eustace’s kitchen.”

She led Jessica off before I could warn the reporter about Rose Noire’s teas, which were always organic and healthy but rarely delicious.

“Don’t talk to her unless you want to,” I said to Ivy. “Mother and Rose Noire can handle her if you don’t.”

“Thanks,” she said, with a quick smile.

The house was in good hands. I waved to everyone, stepped outside and took a deep breath.

Rose Noire was right. The air out here was cleaner. And it wasn’t just getting away from the construction smells of paint, glue, and sawdust. All the hostility between Clay and the other designers hung over the whole house like some kind of psychic air pollution. I had the feeling he’d be causing more trouble before the show house was over.

But not right now.

I stopped to take a few more breaths and study the sky. It was obviously cold, since all the snow already on the ground showed no signs of melting, and the dull gray sky suggested more snow was on its way, but maybe I was getting used to snow and cold. Instead of cold and gray, I decided the weather was bracing.

My enjoyment of the out-of-doors was interrupted by voices coming from somewhere to my left, on the other side of the tall snow-covered bushes that flanked the front porch.

“Just keep it,” said one woman’s voice, hot and angry.

“I don’t want it.” Sarah, who I’d thought was still in the study, inspecting the damage. And the other voice belonged to Kate Banks, one of Sarah’s partners in Byrne, Banks, and Bailey. I’d never actually met Bailey, whoever he or she was. “I don’t even want it around me.”

“And what if he tries something? Something worse than trying to ruin your room.”

“Pretty sure that was an accident.”

“After all he’s done to us before?” Kate went on. “You don’t think he’s mean enough—?”

“Oh, I think he’s mean enough,” Sarah said. “I just don’t think he’s smart enough. I think he was totally astonished when the water started gushing out of that wall, and only worried about what it was doing to his room.”

“You never should have taken this on,” Kate said. “You should have—”

“Maybe I should have listened to you,” Sarah said. “But I didn’t. We just have to get through this. I just have to get through this. Don’t worry about it.”

“I should give him a piece of my mind,” Kate said.

“Don’t give him the satisfaction. Don’t worry about me. I’ll handle it.”

Kate made an inarticulate noise and I saw her dashing across the lawn. I pretended to have just come out of the front door.

“Hey, Sarah,” I said. “Was that Kate I saw? She should come in and get a preview of the house.”

“I think she wants to wait and be surprised by the finished product.” She was smiling, but I could tell it was an effort. Her hand went up as if to torment her blue lock again, but she stopped it halfway with a glance at me.

I liked Sarah. She was in her early thirties, a little younger than me, and in the past few weeks we’d discovered any number of shared tastes and interests. We usually saw eye to eye about what went on in the house.

But I could tell that right now wasn’t the time to presume on our developing friendship by asking her about the argument she’d had with her partner.

“Well, I’m off,” I said. “Tomás and Mateo will be helping with the repairs, and Randall’s sending some more guys over. Call me if there’s anything you need.”

She nodded and went back into the house, looking preoccupied.

Nothing I could do now. I’d check on how she was doing after Tomás and Mateo and Randall’s crew had worked their magic.

Chapter 4

“There’s Mommy!”

“Mommy!”

Michael and our five-year-old twins, Josh and Jamie, were standing on the sidewalk in front of Caerphilly Assisted Living, waving frantically as I strode across the parking lot.

“Where are the rest of the carolers?” I asked.

“Inside, warming up.” Michael gave me a quick kiss. “The boys wanted to wait outside for you.”

“Mommy, it’s going to snow, isn’t it?” Jamie asked.

“Is not,” Josh said. “Can we sing ‘God Rest Ye Merry’?”