“Violet?” Gran called.
“In the kitchen.” She busied herself making her own peanut butter sandwich. “Do you want a sandwich?” she asked cheerfully. “I can get out the liverwurst.”
“No thank you, poppet. Do you know where Iris is?”
“Still sleeping, I think.”
“I’ve got something I’d like to try with her. Some new exercises. I think they may help.”
Vi swallowed hard.
“Can you go wake her up for me?”
“Sure,” Vi said.
“Send her down to the basement once she’s dressed and had some food.”
“Sure,” Vi said again.
“Good girl,” Gran said. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Violet.” She tousled Vi’s hair.
And Vi let herself lean into Gran, let her words make her feel all lit up like the owl lamp on her bedside table. But it didn’t last. She couldn’t make herself forget what Gran had done.
Gran reached for her wrist. “I feel your pulse.”
Vi played the part, wrapped her fingers around Gran’s wrist. “And I feel yours.”
“You’ve got a strong heart, Violet Hildreth,” Gran said.
Vi pulled away, turned to go upstairs, then stopped.
“Gran?”
“Yes.”
“Iris is going to stay with us, right?”
Gran looked at her and gave a forced smile. “Of course, my lovely. Of course she is.”
But Vi knew she was lying.
* * *
“LISTEN, IRIS, IT’S really important that you act like whatever Gran does today helps you.”
Iris glared. “Helps me?”
“You have to pretend. You have to make her think that being here in the house with us is making you better. And whatever happens, you can’t let her know we’ve learned the truth. You can’t say anything about the records I took.”
Iris said nothing.
“You don’t want to go back to the basement of the Inn again, do you?”
Iris shook her head frantically, no, no, no.
The threat felt cruel, but Vi was desperate.
“Then you have to pretend. You have to act like Gran is helping you. Like you’re feeling more like your old self.”
“How?”
“Start by taking a freaking shower. Take that stupid hat off and wash your hair. Put your clothes on right. Act like a regular human being.”
Vi hated being mean, but it was what she had to do. It was the only way.
“I… don’t think I can,” Iris said in a whisper.
“Of course you can. You were doing just fine before. I’ll help you.” She gently took off Iris’s hat, got a brush, and started pulling the tangles from her greasy hair. The hair over her scar was growing in. “When you go downstairs, tell Gran that you’ve been scared lately. Scared because you’ve come to really like it here, to think of us like your family, but you’re afraid it won’t last.”
Iris nodded.
“Good. And when you come back upstairs, you’ll take a shower, put on clean clothes, then go down and ask Gran if you can help make dinner.”
“Okay,” Iris said.