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people while I was married, and now that I don’t have to I dress to please myself,” I explained as I unlocked the front door, “My friend is a frustrated fashion designer, and I got in the habit of wearing his designs, even on jobsites. I always bring coveralls for the dirty work, and I wear my work boots, so I’m good to go.”
    “Hey, I understand. I work at a vintage clothing store. Half our customers wear old prom dresses with flip-flops and tattoos, that sort of thing. It’s a look.”
    I was getting the feeling Maya and I were obstinately talking about everyday things to avoid thinking about poor Adam.
    I pushed open the front door.
    The threadbare but precious Oriental rug had been pushed to one side. A ceramic bust had been knocked over and shattered on the wide-plank oak floor. I looked overhead to see that the light fixture had been pulled from the ceiling and was now hanging limply by wires. I felt a wave of rage and regret. Could Adam really have killed himself? Or was he the victim of foul play?
    I was aware of Adam’s presence but didn’t see him. I supposed it was possible he would remain invisible while Maya was here. On the other hand, he could pop up at any minute and scare the daylights out of me, at which point Maya would think I was a lunatic.
    We started gathering items to put away before the event, continuing the job we had started three days before. Later Jeremy would finish up just two more stair treads, and then the decorating committee could get started—assuming they were willing to come back to this house after Adam’s death.
    I brought a box up to the attic, climbing the steep steps to find the mannequins sitting just as we’d left them.
    Except . . . weren’t they in a different order? The two girls had been next to each other the other day. I was almost sure of it. That’s why I wasn’t sure if it had been Betsy or Charity who turned her face toward me.
    I watched them for a long moment, trying to glimpse a movement. But there was nothing.
    It was when I finally gave up and turned away that I saw something, again, out of the corner of my eye.
    I whirled around to face them.
    “Hello?” I ventured. “What do you want? Can you understand me?”
    Their glassy eyes stared at me, their permanent smiles looking more like leers.
    They did not respond to my greeting.
    “Who are you talking to?” Maya asked, her head popping up through the hatch.
    “I . . . could have sworn the mannequins moved.”
    Maya gave me a worried look.
    “Don’t worry, I’m not crazy. But . . .” Why try to hide it? “The truth is, sometimes I can see, or sense, really, spirits.”
    “Spirits?”
    “Ghosts.”
    “Like . . . a psychic?”
    “No. I mean, I guess maybe it’s a kind of psychic ability, right? But I don’t have any other kind of psychic powers. Heaven knows I’m no good at predicting the future. But sometimes I can talk to ghosts.”
    “Oh. Okay.”
    I waited for more reaction, but none came. “That’s it? It doesn’t, I don’t know, freak you out or anything?”
    She shrugged. “I wasn’t raised with that kind of thing, so yeah, it’s sort of disconcerting. But as I mentioned, my boss is a little . . . different.”
    “Different how?”
    “She’s a . . . witch.”
    “A witch?”
    Maya nodded. The beads on the ends of her braids made a pleasing, everyday sound that was strangely reassuring. Or maybe it was Maya who was reassuring: She always seemed so calm and collected.
    “You mean ‘witch,’ as in rhymes with . . . ?”
    “No.” Maya laughed. “As in, flies on a broom. Except witches don’t actually do that—apparently that’s a Hollywood convention. It’s a little hard to keep it all straight. Mostly I don’t ask too many questions. But I know she’s real.”
    “So she’s Wiccan?” I couldn’t keep the different pagans straight, but most local witches identified with Wicca.
    “No, she’s a natural-born witch. Wicca is a religion,