Return to Summerhouse (The Summerhouse 2)

d.

“It’s a long shot, but I’m trying to find my ancestors.”

Both Faith and Zoë looked at her, considering what she was saying.

“You’re trying to find one of your relatives in this time?” Zoë asked.

Amy nodded. “More or less. I don’t know if it’ll work, but it’s the only thing I’ve been able to come up with.”

“But what if—?” Faith began.

“They’re housekeepers too?” Amy finished for her. “I don’t know, but my great-grandmother was alive when I was little and she used to tell me stories about ‘the old country,’ meaning Scotland.”

“Russell is from Scotland,” Zoë said dreamily. The others looked at her. “Sorry. So what about you and Scotland?”

“My great-grandmother used to say that we came from a village in Scotland that was just north of Edinburgh.”

“Doesn’t that just about cover all of Scotland?” Faith asked.

“Probably, but the important thing is that she said there was a statue there for one of our ancestors. I don’t know what he did, but they made a statue of him. I’ve always meant to go see it.”

“What was your family name?” Faith asked.

“MacTarvit.”

“Interesting,” Faith said, leaning back in her chair and considering Amy. “You’re playing matchmaker with the man you love.”

“Love as a friend,” Amy said, then when they said nothing, she grimaced. “Okay, so I like Tristan a lot. I’ve lived with him for over a year and we get along well.”

“That’s not what I heard,” Faith said. “I heard the two of you fought all the time.”

Amy smiled. “It’s odd that we like each other. Stephen and I never fight, and Tristan and I rarely do now that…that…”

“You’ve established who runs the house?” Zoë asked.

Amy shrugged. “I guess so.”

“So,” Faith said, “you’re looking for an ancestor of yours to marry poor, lonely Tristan.”

Zoë’s eyes widened. “You’re counting on past lives, aren’t you? You don’t want a relative to marry him, you want to marry him. You in a different body, a different time, but it’s still you.”

“How about some dessert?” Amy said. “I make this dessert called ‘floating island.’ It’s a bowl full of custard with toasted egg whites floating in it. Sometimes when my girls are beating egg whites by hand I’d give anything to have an electric mixer. Have you two missed anything like that?”

“We’re not like you,” Zoë said, her teeth clamped together. “We haven’t been here for fourteen months. What I want to know is what you’re doing besides fooling around with past lives. You haven’t hired any witches, have you?”

“You’re being ridiculous and I’m sorry I told you.”

“I’m not,” Faith said. “Look, you two, we only have one another and we need to stick together. We need to listen and learn and find out what we can to save Tristan’s life. I guess it would be too much to ask that someone sleep in his room.”

Zoë looked at Amy and started to say something.

“I paid a boy,” Amy said quickly, “to sleep outside his door, but Tristan made him go away. And he won’t let me sleep there either.”

Both Faith and Zoë nodded at her.

“Lock him in?” Zoë asked.

“That makes him furious,” Amy said.