“Never mind,” she mumbled, racing out of the shop.

Between labored breaths, she gave the taxi driver an address and clutched her handbag in her lap the entire way, her mind empty and bright with shock. When the cab rolled up in front of the Magnussons’ Queen Anne on Broadway, she nearly leapt out before he came to a full stop.

As she was racing to the front door, a familiar blond head peered from the driveway.

“Miss Bacall?”

“Astrid!” She changed directions and strode to the big gate at the side of the home. “Is Lowe home?”

Lowe’s sister scratched her ear and twisted her mouth. “Uh, well, not exactly . . .”

Winter’s assistant, Bo, walked up behind Astrid. “Afternoon,” he said, canting his head.

“I’m looking for Lowe,” she repeated.

An unspoken conversation passed between Astrid and Bo. She nodded, giving him some sort of permission.

Bo nudged the brim of his cap up with a knuckle. “Actually, the two of us were headed over to see him. If you’d like, you can ride along.”

She couldn’t even answer properly. She just nodded and ran to pay the cabbie. A couple of minutes later, she was in the backseat of a Pierce-Arrow limousine with Astrid, and Bo was driving them out of Pacific Heights.

Astrid tried to make small talk, but Hadley was too wound up to be anything more than the worst of conversationalists. An awkward, uncomfortable silence stretched out over long city blocks. It wasn’t until they passed through Russian Hill that Hadley realized she hadn’t asked where they were going.

When they started the long ascent up Filbert, snatches of memories resurfaced from the day she climbed Telegraph Hill with Lowe. Riding in the taxi with him from the Columbarium. The green and red parrots. Pretending to be a couple looking to purchase a house from that poor, bedraggled real estate agent selling the old Rosewood house. Gloom Manor, Lowe had called it.

And there it was, sitting near the top of the hill.

Trucks were parked at the curb. Workers were loading up debris and clinging to ladders, painting the trim. The twin windows on the third floor had been replaced.

Hadley stared at the window as the car slowed to park. “What’s happening here?”

“Believe me, I asked the exact same thing when I first saw this tumbledown shack of a house,” Astrid said, waving her hand dismissively at the Italianate Victorian home. “Lowe said I had no vision, and maybe he was right. Come on, we’ll take you inside.”

In a daze, she followed them down the sidewalk where she and Lowe had fought off the griffin, past workers who tipped their caps, and up the front stairs into the open door. It was so much brighter and warmer than she remembered. Electricity and heat, she realized dazedly. And she smelled fresh paint; the lewd graffiti was gone. So was the old furniture. A new Craftsman hall tree sat at the end of the foyer. And here, above a carved bench, a cap and two coats hung—one achingly familiar, and one small.

A deep voice several yards away made her throat tighten.

“No, you can’t go up the stairs. They’re working up there, sötnos.”

Lowe stood at the bottom of the staircase, tugging the hand of a small child in a red and white polka dot dress.

Hadley stood, rooted to the floorboards, as Astrid and Bo walked into the room. Spying them, a smile lit up the girl’s curl-framed face, and she forgot all about the stairs. Astrid bent low and rushed toward her.

“Stella-umbrella,” Astrid said in a silly voice, scooping the child up in her arms. “What have you been doing? Your hands are positively filthy.”

Stella held out her palms and wiggled her fingers, clearly delighted with herself.

“She tried to catch a wild parrot in the yard,” Lowe said. “I’m going to have to get someone to build a fence around . . .”

Lowe’s gaze connected with Hadley’s.

A strange heat washed over her skin. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to cry or run.

“We brought someone to see you,” Bo said to Lowe. “Astrid, why don’t we take Stella outside and see if we can find another parrot.”

Hadley concentrated on breathing as they led the girl outside. Lowe stood where he was, several feet away. His umber suit was the same shade as the new wood stain on the staircase, and he wore his brown leather riding boots. A memory of her crouching to untie those crisscrossing laces added more kindling to the emotional chaos threatening to burn down her heart.

“Hello, Hadley.”

“Hello, Lowe.”

Her mouth went dry. There were too many things she wanted to say at once, but she couldn’t remember what any of them were. A month without him, and it was as if her dumb heart didn’t care about all the pain he’d caused. She had to fight the urge to run to him and press herself against his solid chest so that she could feel his arms around her, his steady heartbeat under her cheek. She finally pretended to look around the room in order to gather her wits about her. “You bought Gloom Manor,” she finally managed, trying to sound normal.

“I did,” he answered. “My brother helped to rush the sale through the bank. They were eager to get rid of it. Haunted houses aren’t desirable properties, apparently.”

She tried to force a casual smile, but her mouth was having trouble remembering how. “You don’t say.”

“It’s not actually haunted, in case you were wondering.” He shoved his hands in his pants pockets and took a few lazy steps in her direction. “Aida has given it her all-clear approval. So I suppose all that ghost graffiti was wishful thinking.”

A part of her wanted to smile, but she quickly sobered up and remembered the panic that had brought her to him today. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she said in a near whisper.

His head dropped, and he looked down at her with bright blue eyes. Two deep lines crossed his forehead. “Hadley . . .”

“You should’ve told me. I didn’t know.” The words tumbled out so fast. She blinked away tears. “I went to the florist in Fillmore and she told me Adam was dead and I couldn’t believe it. I went straight to your house—”

“Hey, hey,” he said softly. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay. It’s terrible. Don’t you see? I went to Adam’s shop. I went to talk with him because I was angry at you for lying to me, and I wanted to know the truth. I thought I was being careful—”

“Noel Irving followed you,” he said in a cracking voice. He blinked several times and cleared his throat. “He was looking for the amulet, and I guess when he didn’t find it, he went to your father’s house and found you outside.”

A terrible hollowness stretched inside Hadley’s chest. “You should’ve told me.”

“I thought you knew.”

“My God, Lowe. If I had known, I would’ve . . .”

“What?” he challenged. “What could you have done? He’s gone, and unlike your father, I didn’t know any dark magic to bring him back.”

“That’s not fair,” she whispered, tears stinging her eyes.

“None of it’s fair. Do you know how many people I’ve grieved for over the last few years? First Miriam, then my parents—both at the same time, Hadley. And now Adam.”

“And I’m so sorry for that. It wrecks me to imagine how much you’ve been hurting, but you didn’t have to go through it alone. All you had to do was talk to me.”

“Why would I have any reason to believe you wanted me to? I lied and you walked away.”

“You better believe I did,” she said, blinking away angry tears. “I’ve been betrayed by a lot of people in my life, but I never saw it coming from you. You might as well have stuck that dagger of yours in my belly, because I think that would’ve hurt less.”

Lowe’s eyes brimmed with emotion. “I truly never meant to hurt you.”

“But you did, and you should’ve at least tried to talk to me—if not about us, then about Adam. After what we’d been through together, I would think you owed me that much. Or did you . . .” She waited for her throat to stop clenching, but when she spoke, her voice still sounded rough and torn. “Do you blame me for what happened to him?”

His gaze dropped to the floorboards. “I wanted to blame you, believe me. But I’m the one who found the damned amulet and brought it here. I’m the one who asked Adam to duplicate it. So in the end, it was easier to blame myself.”

“Lowe—”

“When I botch things up, I do it spectacularly. I lost you and Adam the same day, all because I wasn’t man enough to own up to my lies. It’s impressive, really, how far I had to fall to realize that.”

She didn’t know what to say. All the fight drained away from her.

“So, yes. I blamed myself,” he finished in a softer voice. “But after a few days passed, I started thinking about your father.”

“My father,” she repeated in bewilderment.

He jiggled the change in his pocket and exhaled heavily. “When your mother got eight extra years from that spell, instead of your father spending that time trying to fix what was broken between them, he spent a fortune traveling the globe, trying to find a three-thousand-year-old object to kill his best friend. Granted, his friend was a monster, and the complete opposite of Adam in every way.”

“Oh, Lowe.”

He shook his head, as if it was over and done, and he wasn’t interested in rehashing it. Then he returned to his explanation. “But see, it didn’t even stop there. After your mother was gone, your father spent decades more clinging to this idea of revenge. Decades. That’s a damn long time to be angry. Maybe all of this could’ve been avoided if he’d just accepted that he was partly to blame. Perhaps he should’ve asked himself if your mother turned to Noel because your father forgot that a relationship needs tending.”