They sat in silence for a few moments.

“What is your plan?” Mr. Young asked her finally.

“Other than meeting with Jeanette and Kip Hobart, I have none.”

He laughed. “Once more, I appreciate your honesty. If you had claimed to know what to do, I would again have known that you were lying.”

“It would help if you told me more,” she said. “Who are these apparitions that people report seeing in the weeks leading up to the reunion? What were the events of eighty years ago that led to the start of the lottery?”

“You will discover that, if you are meant to.”

“Kip made no mention in his notes. Did he not find out?”

“You will have to ask him.”

“The woman people report seeing. The one in the white dress and black hair. Is she Beatrice? The servant girl who was killed on the property in 1930? There is a newspaper clipping about her death in the files. There has to be a connection.”

“Perhaps there is.”

“The newspaper didn’t give a cause of death. It just said there had been a ‘tragic accident’ at the house. It happened right around this time of year, and the first lottery was held a month later.”

“You have your chronology correct.”

“What was the accident? How did Beatrice die?”

The old man looked pained. A gnarled, spotted hand went to his forehead.

“You won’t say, or you can’t?” Carolyn asked.

“Since my sister died thirty years ago, I have been the only one left alive who remembers those days. It is a lonely burden.”

“I imagine it is.” Carolyn sat back against the bench. “If you can’t tell me, I’d imagine I can get the information on her death from the records at the Youngsport town hall. Perhaps there was a coroner’s report.”

“The records won’t tell you any more than I have.”

She looked over at him. “So there was an attempt to contain scandal, perhaps?”

“To speak of such things to people outside the family is forbidden. That is what has made finding an end to this nightmare so difficult.”

Carolyn leaned forward. “Who has forbidden it? And by what means?”

“Proceed with your itinerary. Visit Jeanette and Dr. Hobart. It is your only course.”

Carolyn sighed. “But if you could just answer-”

“I am stuffed!”

They both turned, Mr. Young more slowly than Carolyn. Douglas was sauntering across the yard, rubbing his belly.

“I ended up having two waffles!” he crowed. “One with syrup and sliced apples and the other with strawberries and cream!”

“It’s a wonder you aren’t three hundred pounds, given the way you eat, you little hoodlum,” his uncle replied. “Ah, the metabolism of youth!”

“Now I wonder what’s for lunch,” Douglas said, winking down at Carolyn.

She stood. “I’ll let the two of you speak.”

“No need to hurry off, Carolyn,” Douglas said. “I’m happy for you to stick around.”

“No, no, my boy,” Uncle Howard said, patting the spot on the bench Carolyn had vacated. “She has work to do. And you and I need to have a little talk.”

“I’ll see you later?” Douglas asked Carolyn.

She nodded. “I suspect you will.”

“Good.” He smiled at her. He saw her look away.

She seemed upset, Douglas thought. She bid them both good morning and headed back across the lawn. Douglas sat down on the bench. Carolyn and Uncle Howie had been having a rather intense conversation when he’d approached. What kind of business did they have together? Why did his uncle need a private eye?

“So, talk to me, Uncle Howie,” Douglas said. “What’s the news you have for me?”

The old man did not return his gaze. Instead his eyes remained fixed on the sea.

“I have had this conversation with every member of our family when they have reached a certain age,” he said. “It is not an easy one to have.” He paused. “All that I ask is that you let me speak, and do not interrupt me until I am done.”

“All right,” Douglas said. A little flicker of fear had ignited in his gut.

“Very well then. It began on a night some eighty years ago…”

Chapter Eight

It wasn’t easy falling asleep by herself.

Karen had, as Paula anticipated, decided to go away “for a little while.” She needed time to think, Karen said. It wasn’t a breakup. Not yet. She just needed some space from Paula, from this apartment, from the long, unresolved discussion about children. She was staying with their friend Gillian in Jamaica Plain. Paula knew how to reach her. It wasn’t as if they had severed all communication.

That didn’t make it any easier to fall asleep.

Paula lifted one eye to glance over at the clock, glowing green in the darkness. 1:18. She’d been tossing and turning for almost two hours. Not even an Ambien had helped. She’d felt warm, so she’d kicked off the sheets. Then she’d felt cold, so she pulled them back up again. Now she felt as if she would lie there on her back all night, wide awake, staring at the ceiling.

Maybe it was good that Karen was gone. What business did Paula have trying to salvage the relationship if she knew she could never give Karen what she wanted? Why should she try to change Karen’s mind and bring her back? It was better that she stayed far away from the madness of Paula’s family.

She was beginning to feel drowsy, but still sleep wouldn’t come. Great. The Ambien was making her disoriented but not knocking her out. She turned onto her side and squeezed her eyes shut. She tried to convince her subconscious mind that Karen was right beside her, just as she had been the last five years. All she had to do was reach out her hand and she’d feel her hair. She’d feel her warmth. Paula would know she wasn’t alone. That she had someone who loved her. Who wanted to make a life with her.

Tears began forcing their ways out from her tightly closed eyelids.

“Oh, baby,” she whispered.

Instinctively she reached out her hand toward the other side of the bed, the place where Karen had slept…

And she felt her.

She felt Karen’s hair.

Paula opened her eyes.

Karen was there. She rolled over and looked at Paula and smiled.

“Can’t sleep?” she whispered.

“How…?” Paula couldn’t form the words. “How did you…? When…?”

“Shh,” Karen said, and her eyes seemed to sparkle in the dark. “Do you hear? The baby’s crying.”

“The…baby?”

“Listen.”

Paula was silent. There was indeed a baby crying. From the far distance. So Karen hadn’t left at all. She was right there, right beside Paula. Everything was okay. All their problems were gone. Karen was there, and they had a baby. They had a baby…

“The baby’s crying,” Karen said again, more forcefully this time.

It was almost like an order. Paula nodded. “Yes, yes,” she said. “The baby is crying…”

She sat up and swung her legs out of the bed. Her bare feet touched the hardwood floor. The clock on the side of the bed now read 1:37. Paula stood.

“Bring me the baby,” Karen implored.

Her head was muzzy. The Ambien, she thought to herself. But Paula pushed her way through the dark, out of the bedroom and into the hallway. She could hear the baby crying from somewhere in the apartment. But where? The apartment was spacious, with two bedrooms, a dining room, a living room, and a study. But the sound seemed to come from someplace much farther away than any of those rooms. Maybe from another part of the building. Where was their baby? Someone had taken their baby!

Paula began a mad scramble from room to room. The guest bedroom was empty. Was that where they had set up the crib? No, no, it was in the dining room. It was easier to get to the baby…they’d put the crib there. But the dining room was empty. Just a roomful of shadows, sliced through by the moonlight seeping in from between Venetian blinds. Paula was beginning to panic. Where was the baby? Where was the baby?

Through the kitchen she ran into the living room, but no baby there. She listened. The crying continued. Still far away, but maybe a bit closer. She threw open the door and ran out into the corridor. Upstairs. The crying was coming from upstairs! Someone had kidnapped their baby and taken it to an apartment upstairs! Paula tried to shout, to tell her baby she was coming-but she realized she didn’t know her baby’s name.