“Suddenly the curtain moved all by itself.”
The late June sun found its way onto the front porch. I squinted into the glare at my best friend. “How?”
Lily Randazzo shrugged. “No one was standing anywhere near the window. And it was closed, so it wasn’t a breeze that moved it.”
Lily’s voice grew quiet. “Everyone in room seventeen of the Spalding Inn sensed what was happening. Mr. Spalding was there, in that very room, pushing...