（Thank you, too, to Donald Maass, who, over the course of one coffee and without having read a single page of the book, cracked open the entire problem with my original third act.）
To my husband, David Hohl—thank you for not only supporting me through this book and the whole whirlwind that has been publishing but also not running away screaming after what I did to Jane’s husband in this book. Jane and I share a lot in common, but I promise you, I have no intention of making a “better” magical copy of you. Maybe let’s avoid houses with basements, though. Just in case.
Thanks also to my parents, David and Stacey Starling, for bragging about me to everybody you know and always being ready to cheer on each new milestone of mine. To my great-aunt Lynn Narasimhan, who is always ready with a willing ear and a glass of celebratory scotch, and who also has housed us during the upheaval of both graduate studies and a pandemic, I owe undying gratitude. Thank you, too, to my in-laws, Dave and Sukey Hohl, and the rest of my family, on all sides, for your constant support of and delight in what I do next. I hope this book hasn’t been too traumatizing to read.
And to all my readers who have trusted me enough to follow me from high-tech suits in far-off caves to a haunted house in faux-English hills—I hope you’ve enjoyed and that you’re just as excited to see where we go together next.