I'm going to die of boredom here, Sabrina Grimm thought as she looked out the train window at Ferryport Landing, New York, approaching in the distance. The little town seemed to be made mostly of hills and trees next to the cold, gray Hudson River. Endless acres of evergreen forest surrounded it, as if trying to hide its existence from the rest of the world. A few two-and three-story buildings huddled around what appeared to be the town's only street. Sabrina couldn't see any movie theaters, malls, or museums, and she felt using the word town to describe Ferryport Landing was a bit of a stretch.
The weather wasn't helping. It was raining, and rain always made her melancholy. It had been raining the day her parents abandoned her a year and a half ago, and it still made her heart ache. She remembered the day clearly, rushing home that afternoon with a report card safely tucked inside her raincoat. Excited about her As in math and English and her B in science (and a little disappointed by her C-in gym). She proudly taped her grades to the refrigerator for everyone to see when they got home. It seemed odd that her parents weren't there, but Sabrina didn't worry until Daphne's kindergarten teacher called to find out why no one had picked up the little girl. That night the girls slept in their parents' bed, waiting for them to come home while thunder crashed in the sky outside. When the social workers came three days later to take them away, it was still raining, and Sabrina's report card was still hanging on the refrigerator awaiting its praise. For all Sabrina knew, it was still there.
The police investigated the disappearance. They searched the family's New York City apartment for clues. They interviewed neighbors and coworkers. They dusted for fingerprints and filed reports, but Henry and Veronica Grimm had vanished into thin air. Months later the police found their abandoned car, deserted in a lonely park fifty miles north of the city. The only clue was a bloodred handprint on the dashboard that turned out to be paint but didn't lead to anything else. The investigation came to a dead end, and the cops eventually gave up the search.
The girls were placed under the care of social services at first. A nice but overworked man named Todd searched for a next of kin, someone who could take them in, but came up as empty as the police. No aunts, uncles, grandparents, brothers, sisters, or even distant twice-removed cousins existed. Todd promised to keep trying, but when Sabrina and Daphne were moved to an orphanage, they never saw him again.
Sabrina shook off the sad memories and tucked her long blond hair behind her ear. She felt like crying but couldn't let her sister see her blubbering. She needed to be the strong one; after all, she was almost twelve years old.
Not that Daphne would have noticed. At the moment, Sabrina's seven-year-old sister had her face pressed against the train's window, as she had for the entire two-hour trip. She marveled at each ugly little dot on the map they rolled through like they were Paris, Rome, and Los Angeles. She only took occasional breaks from the view to ask questions about their destination.
"Do they have bagels in Ferryport Landing, Ms. Smirt?" Daphne asked the woman sitting across from them. Ms. Minerva Smirt was the girls' caseworker from the orphanage. She was a pinch-lipped, humorless woman in her late fifties. As usual, her hooked nose was buried in a book. Sabrina knew she was reading only so she wouldn't have to talk to them.
Ms. Smirt looked up at Daphne with an annoyed scowl and sighed as if the little girl's questions were more than she could bear.
"Of course they have bagels. They have bagels everywhere," Ms. Smirt snapped.
"Not on the moon," Daphne replied matter-of-factly as she returned her gaze to the window.
Ms. Smirt snarled, and Sabrina snickered. It was so easy to get on the woman's nerves, and Daphne was particularly good at it. Smirt had made a terrible mistake when she chose a career working with children, Sabrina thought, especially since she didn't seem to like them. The woman complained whenever she had to touch their sticky hands or wipe their runny noses, and reading bedtime stories was completely out of the question. She seemed to especially dislike the Grimm sisters, labeling them rude, uncooperative, and a couple of know-it-alls. So Sabrina was sure it was Ms. Smirt's personal mission to get the girls out of the orphanage and into a foster home. So far she had failed miserably, sending them to live with people who were usually mean and occasionally crazy. Some used them as maids and house sitters, while others just plain ignored them. This time, however, Smirt had gone too far. This time she was sending them to live with a dead woman.
"I hope you won't bother your grandmother with all these ridiculous questions!" Ms. Smirt said curtly, which was how she said most things to Sabrina and Daphne. "She is old and cannot handle a lot of trouble."
"She's dead! I've already told you a million times, our grandmother is dead!" said Sabrina.
"We did a background check, Sally," Ms. Smirt replied. "She is who she says she is."
"My name is Sabrina." Sabrina sighed.
"Whatever. The orphanage would not just release you into anyone's custody," said Ms. Smirt.
"Oh, really? How about Ms. Langdon, who swore her toilet was haunted?" said Sabrina.
"Everyone has their quirks."
"Or Mr. Dennison, who made us sleep in his truck?" Daphne chimed in.
"Some people love the great outdoors."
"Mr. and Mrs. Johnson handcuffed us to a radiator!" Sabrina cried.
Ms. Smirt rolled her eyes. "You act like it was the end of the world. Imagine how hard this has been on me. I was mortified when I heard what you said to the Keatons!"
"They locked us in their house for two weeks so they could go on a cruise to Bora-Bora," Sabrina said.
"I think it was the Bahamas," Daphne said.
"It was Bermuda, and they brought you both back some lovely T-shirts," said Ms. Smirt. "Anyway, it's all water under the bridge now. We found a real relative who is actually eager to take you into her home, and not a moment too soon. To be honest, we have run out of families looking for rude little girls. Even if she were an imposter, I would hand you over to her."
With that, Ms. Smirt put her nose back into her book. Sabrina looked at the title. It was called How to Get the Love You Want.
The conductor's voice rang out from the speakers on the ceiling. He announced that Ferryport Landing was the next and last stop.
"What's an imposter?" Daphne asked.
"It's a person who pretends to be someone she's not," Sabrina said.
"Do you think there's any chance she's really our grandmother?"
"Not a chance," Sabrina whispered into her sister's ear. "Dad told me she died before we were even born. No, she's some crackpot, but don't worry-we'll be gone before the crazy old bat knows what's happened."
The train slowed as it pulled into the station, and passengers got up from their seats. They took down their bags from the luggage racks above and tossed half-read newspapers onto the coffee-stained floor before heading toward the doors.
"Ladies, let's go!" Ms. Smirt ordered. Sabrina didn't want to meet this imposter, but she knew better than to argue with the old crone. Smirt had a reputation as a pincher, and she'd left more than a few nasty purple bruises on back-talking orphans. So Sabrina did as she was told and dragged Daphne's and her tiny suitcases down from the rack, then followed Ms. Smirt and her sister off the train.
The rain was bitingly cold. Daphne shivered, so Sabrina wrapped her arm around her sister's shoulders and held her tightly as they disembarked onto the crowded platform.
"The two of you had better be polite, or there's going to be trouble," Ms. Smirt said. "No sass, no back talk, stand up straight, and act like young ladies for once, or so help me I'll-"
"Ms. Smirt?" A chubby old woman interrupted the caseworker's threat. She was dressed in an ankle-length navy-blue dress and had a white knitted shawl around her shoulders. Her gray hair was streaked with red, hinting at its original color, and she wore it tightly tucked under a matching navy-blue hat with an appliqué of a big fuzzy sunflower in the middle. Her face was a collection of wrinkles and sagging skin. Nevertheless, there was something youthful about her. Perhaps it was her red cheeks and clear green eyes.
Next to her stood the skinniest man Sabrina had ever seen. He wore a dark pin-striped suit that was several sizes too big and held a wide umbrella in one hand and his hat in the other. His head was full of untamed platinum hair, and his enormous, watery eyes were hidden beneath wild, unkempt brows.
"Yes, Mrs. Grimm. It's us," Ms. Smirt said, forcing her usual frown into a smile.
"Sabrina? Daphne?" the woman cried with a hint of a German accent. "Oh, you are both so beautiful. What little darlings! I'm your Grandmother Grimm." She wrapped her arms around the girls and pulled them close. The girls squirmed to escape, but the old woman was like an over-affectionate octopus.
"Mrs. Grimm, it's so nice to meet you," Ms. Smirt interrupted. "I'm Minerva Smirt. We spoke on the phone."
The old woman raised herself up to her full height, which wasn't very high, and cocked an eyebrow at the caseworker. Sabrina could have sworn she saw the old woman smirk.
"It's nice to meet you, too," said Mrs. Grimm stiffly.
"I am just so thrilled to have helped you and the girls reunite."
"Oh, I'm sure you are," Mrs. Grimm said, turning her back on the caseworker and giving the girls a wink. She placed a hand on each girl's shoulder and turned them toward her companion.
"Girls, this is Mr. Canis. He helps me take care of our house and other matters. He lives with us, too, and he'll be helping me look after you," she said.
Daphne and Sabrina stared up into the old man's gaunt face. He was so frail it seemed as though the umbrella he was holding might collapse on him at any moment. He nodded, silent as a statue, then handed Mrs. Grimm the umbrella. He took the two suitcases from Sabrina and walked down the platform toward the parking lot.
"Well, ladies, this looks like good-bye," said Ms. Smirt. She stepped forward and limply hugged Daphne, whispering something in her ear that made the little girl cringe. Then she hooked Sabrina in her uncomfortable embrace. "Let's make this the last time we see each other."
She gave Sabrina a final, painful pinch before the girl could pull away, then turned back to the old woman.
"Good luck, Mrs. Grimm." She reached out to shake Mrs. Grimm's hand, but the old woman looked at it as if the caseworker were trying to give her something smelly and dead. Smirt sensed her disapproval, hemmed and hawed for a moment, then quickly reboarded the train without looking back. The doors shut, and soon it pulled away, back to New York City.
Mrs. Grimm directed the girls down the platform, unloading a barrage of kisses that continued all the way to the parking lot. Mr. Canis was waiting there, next to a rusty heap of a car that squealed in protest when he opened the back door.
"Is this safe?" Sabrina asked.
"It got us here." The old woman laughed. "I suppose it will get us back."
The girls crawled inside to find the interior was as ancient and shabby as the outside. Springs and foam erupted through the seat cushions, and when Sabrina looked down she could see a hole in the floorboard that revealed the pavement below.
"Put on your seat belts," Mrs. Grimm said.
The girls searched for the belts but found just two ends of a frayed rope buried in the seats.
"These?" Daphne asked.
Mrs. Grimm reached around, tied both ends together over their laps, and then smiled.
"There! Safety first," she cried.
Mr. Canis started the engine, and it sputtered, backfired, and then roared to life, belching a black fog out of the tailpipe. When he put it into drive an orchestra of gears screamed so loudly that Sabrina thought she might go deaf. Daphne plugged her fingers into her ears.
Mrs. Grimm turned to the girls and shouted something Sabrina couldn't hear.
"What?" Sabrina shouted back.
"What?!" the old woman asked.
"I can't hear you!" Sabrina yelled.
"More than six!" the old woman replied.
"Six what?" Sabrina screamed.
"Probably!" The old woman laughed.
"I love dolphins, too!" Daphne exclaimed.
"Not since I hurt my toes!" Mrs. Grimm shouted.
Sabrina put her face in her hands and groaned.
They drove through the little town, which consisted of a two-lane road bordered by a couple of antiques stores, a bicycle shop, a police station and jail, a post office, a dentist, a restaurant named Old King Cole's, a toy store, and a beauty parlor. Mr. Canis made a left turn at the town's one and only stoplight, and within seconds they were cruising out of the town proper and into what Mrs. Grimm called "Ferryport Landing's farm country." As far as Sabrina could tell, the only crop this town grew was mud.
After a long drive, Mrs. Grimm's house came into view. It sat far up on a tree-speckled hill fifteen minutes away from the closest neighbor. It was short and squat, much like its owner, with two stories, a wraparound porch, and small windows framed by bright blue shutters. It was painted yellow and had fat green shrubs lining the cobblestone path that led to the front door. It might have looked cozy if not for the looming forest behind it. Branches hung over the roof as if the trees were preparing to swallow the house whole.
"You live in a dollhouse," Daphne declared, oblivious to the creepy woods.
Mrs. Grimm smiled, but Sabrina wasn't amused. The place was troubling and weird, and she felt as if she were being watched. She squinted into the dense trees, but if anyone was spying he or she was well hidden.
"Why do you live all the way out here?" she asked. New York City was a place where everyone lived on top of each other, and that was exactly how Sabrina liked it. Living out in the middle of nowhere was dangerous and suspicious.
"Oh, I like the peace and quiet," said Mrs. Grimm.
And there's no one to hear the screaming of children up here, Sabrina thought to herself.
Mr. Canis unlocked the car's huge musty trunk, pulled out the two tiny suitcases, and led everyone to the front door. The old woman followed closely behind, fumbling with her handbag until she fished out what might have been the largest key ring in the world. Hundreds of keys jangled on the ring, each different from the others: skeleton keys made from crystals, ancient brass keys, bright new silver keys in many sizes, and several that didn't look like keys at all.
"Wow! That's a lot of keys," Daphne said.
"That's a lot of locks," Sabrina added as she eyed the front door. There must have been a dozen bolts of all shapes and sizes.
Mrs. Grimm inserted one key after another until she had unlocked them all. Then she rapped her knuckles on the door three times and said, "We're home."
Daphne looked up at her sister for an explanation, but Sabrina had none. Instead, she twirled her finger around her ear and mouthed the word crazy.
"Let me take your coats, lieblings," Mrs. Grimm said as they entered the house and she closed the door behind them, turning the locks one after another.
"Liebling?" Daphne asked.
"It's German for sweetheart," the old woman said. She opened the coat closet door, and several books tumbled to her feet. Mr. Canis quickly restacked them for her.
"Girls, I must warn you. I'm not much of a housekeeper," Mrs. Grimm said, then turned to Mr. Canis. "We'll have dinner in about an hour."
Mr. Canis nodded and without a word climbed the stairs with the girls' suitcases. A moment later he was gone.
"Is he your boyfriend?" Daphne asked the old woman.
Mrs. Grimm blushed and giggled. "Oh, dear, no. Mr. Canis and I are not courting. We are just good friends," she said.
"What does courting mean?" Daphne asked her sister.
"It's an old-fashioned word for dating," Sabrina replied.
"Ladies, let me give you the grand tour!" Mrs. Grimm led them into the living room. It was enormous, a much larger room than seemed possible in a cottage so small. Each wall was lined with shelves, stuffed with more books than Sabrina had ever seen. Stacks of them sat on the floor, the tables, and every other surface. A teapot perched precariously on a stack that looked as if it would fall over at any moment. Books were under the couch cushions, under the carpet. Several giant stacks stood in front of an old television, blocking the screen. On the spines Sabrina read the strangest titles: Birds of Oz, An Apple a Day: The Autobiography of an Evil Queen, and Shoes, Toys, and Cookies: The Elvish Handcraft Tradition.
Mrs. Grimm led them through another door to a room where they found a dining room table littered with even more books, some open and waiting to be read. Sabrina picked one up and rolled her eyes when she read the title: 365 Ways to Cook Dragon.
The old woman led them from room to room, showing them where she kept the snacks in the white-tiled kitchen and how to get the rickety bathroom door to close. Sabrina pretended to be interested, but in reality she secretly "cased the joint." In each room she noted where the windows and doors were, eyed locks, and paid close attention to creaky floorboards. It was a habit she'd picked up in the orphanage and all their foster homes: She always looked for the easiest way out. But here she kept getting distracted by the odd books and the dozens of old black-and-white photographs that decorated the walls. Most of them were of a much younger Mrs. Grimm and a stocky, bearded man with a wide smile. There were pictures of them hiking in the jungle, standing on an icy glacier, scaling a mountain, and even riding camels in the desert. And then there were pictures of them in the house, and Mrs. Grimm was carrying a small child in a papoose while the bearded man stood next to her, proudly beaming at the camera.
Daphne walked over to one of the pictures and studied it closely.
"Who's this guy?" she asked
"That was your Opa Basil," Mrs. Grimm said wistfully.
"Opa?" Daphne asked.
"Grandfather, liebling. He passed on before you were born," she said.
"Is that your baby?" Daphne asked.
The old lady smiled; then her expression turned serious. "That's your papa," she said softly.
The little girl's eyes grew as big as the moon as she looked over at her sister, but Sabrina quickly dismissed the old woman's claim. "Babies all look the same. An old photo doesn't prove anything," she muttered.
"Oh, my, I've forgotten the cookies," Mrs. Grimm said as she dashed to the kitchen. In no time she returned with a plate of fresh chocolate-chip cookies. Daphne, of course, happily grabbed one and took a bite.
"These taste just like my mommy's," she exclaimed. "Where do you think she got the recipe?" Mrs. Grimm said. Sabrina refused to take a cookie, giving Mrs. Grimm an "I know what you're up to" look. She wasn't going to be bribed with sweets. The old woman shrugged and set the cookies on a stack of books.
"Oh! I should introduce you to Elvis," Mrs. Grimm continued, then let out a blasting whistle. Suddenly there was a great rumbling in the house. Books fell from their shelves, windows shook in their frames, and the plate of cookies slid to the floor before it could be saved. And then something enormous came charging through the room and right at them. It moved so quickly Sabrina couldn't tell what it was, and it pushed over lamps and chairs, leaped over an ottoman, and knocked the terrified girls to the ground. Sabrina screamed, sure they were about to be eaten by a bear or some kind of hairy rhinoceros, when much to her surprise a gooey tongue licked her cheek. She opened her eyes to find the friendly face of a giant dog.
"Elvis, please, get off of them," Mrs. Grimm said, half commanding and half laughing at the Great Dane. "He gets very excited around new people." The enormous dog gave Sabrina's face one last lick, leaving a long trail of drool, before sitting down next to the old woman, panting and wagging his immense tail.
"This is Elvis. He's a member of our little family and completely harmless if he likes you," said Mrs. Grimm, scratching the beast on his immense head. The dog licked the old woman on the cheek.
"And if he doesn't?" Sabrina asked as she climbed to her feet.
Daphne jumped up and threw her arms around the dog. "Oh, I love him! He's so cute!" She laughed as she covered the dog with her own kisses.
"This is the only boyfriend I have." Mrs. Grimm smiled. "And probably the smartest one I've ever had, too. Watch!"
Daphne stepped back, and she and Sabrina watched as Mrs. Grimm put her hand out to Elvis. "Elvis, shake," she said, and the dog reached out a huge forepaw and placed it in her hand.
Daphne giggled.
"Play dead," Daphne said hopefully, and the dog fell stiffly over onto his side, the impact knocking a lamp off a table.
Mrs. Grimm laughed. "You two must be starving after your trip. I suppose I'd better get started with dinner. I hope spaghetti and meatballs is OK."
"I love spaghetti and meatballs!" Daphne cried as Elvis gave her a fresh lick.
"I know you do," Mrs. Grimm said with a wink. She disappeared into the kitchen, where she began rattling pots and pans.
"Don't get used to this place. We're not going to be here long," Sabrina said as she wiped the dog's goo off her cheek.
"Stop being a snot," Daphne said as she laid a huge smooch on Elvis. Snot was her favorite word lately. "She wouldn't hurt us. She's nice."
"That's why crazy people are so dangerous. You think they're nice until they're chaining you up in the garage," Sabrina replied. "And I am not being a snot."
"Yes, you are."
"No, I'm not."
"Yes, you are," Daphne insisted. "So what if she's a little weird? Anything is better than living at the orphanage, right?"
"We've been over this a million times. What if Mom and Dad come back for us? The first place they'll look is the orphanage. We need to stay there."
"They've been gone a long time," Daphne said. She walked over to the wall to examine the photograph the old woman claimed was of the girls' father. Sabrina joined her, and they both stared into the face of the rosy-cheeked baby.
"He looks like Dad," Daphne said.
"It's not him," Sabrina argued. "It can't be."
While dinner was being prepared, Mr. Canis cleared the big oak dining room table of enough books so everyone could eat comfortably. He left an exceptionally thick volume entitled Architecture for Pigs on Daphne's chair so the little girl could sit on it and reach her food. Then the trio waited patiently for Mrs. Grimm, who was making a thunderous racket in the kitchen. Mr. Canis closed his eyes and sat silently. Soon his stillness began to unnerve Sabrina. Was he a mute? Was there something wrong with him? In New York City, everyone talked, or rather everyone yelled at everyone, all the time. They never sat quietly with their eyes closed when people were around. It was rude.
"Did he die?" Daphne whispered after staring at him for some time.
Suddenly Mrs. Grimm came through the door with a big copper pot and placed it on the table. She rushed back into the kitchen and returned with a plate of salad and set it in front of Mr. Canis. As soon as the plate hit the table, the old man opened his eyes and began to eat.
"How did you know I like spaghetti? It's my favorite!" Daphne said happily.
"I know lots of things about you, liebling. I am your oma," Mrs. Grimm replied.
"Oma?" Sabrina asked. "What's this weird language you keep speaking?"
"It means grandmother in German. That's where our family is from," Mrs. Grimm answered.
"My family is from the Upper East Side," Sabrina said stiffly.
"Your mother sent me letters from time to time. I know a great deal about you both. In fact, when I stopped getting them I knew that…" She sighed.
"That they'd abandoned us?" Daphne asked.
"Child, your mother and father didn't abandon you," Mrs. Grimm cried.
"Mrs. Grimm, I-" Daphne began.
"Liebling, I'm not Mrs. Grimm. I'm your grandmother," the old woman said. "You can call me Grandma or Oma, but never Mrs. Grimm, please."
"Can we call you Granny? I always wanted a granny," said Daphne. Sabrina kicked her sharply under the table, and the little girl winced.
"Of course, I'll be your Granny Relda," the old woman said with a smile as she took the top off the pot.
Sabrina stared inside. She'd never seen spaghetti like this. The pasta was black, and the sauce was a bright orange color. It smelled sweet and spicy at the same time, and the meatballs, which were emerald green, were surely not made from any kind of meat Sabrina had ever tasted.
"It's a special recipe," Mrs. Grimm said as she dished some out for Daphne. "The sauce has a little curry in it, and the noodles are made with squid ink."
Sabrina was disgusted, which made her decision not to eat the old woman's food even easier. This sicko lied about being the girls' dead grandmother. Who knew what she'd yanked from under the kitchen sink and added to the recipe: arsenic, rat poison, clog remover? Clearly she was trying to kill them. Of course, before Sabrina could warn her, Daphne had dug in with gusto and already swallowed a third of her plate.
"So Mr. Canis says your suitcases were nearly empty. Don't you have any clothes?" Mrs. Grimm asked.
"The police kept them," Daphne said, shoveling a huge forkful of pasta into her mouth. "They said they were evidence."
"Kept them? That's crazy! What will they do with them?" She looked at each of them and finally at Mr. Canis, who shrugged. "Well, we'll just go into town and pick you out new wardrobes. We can't have you running around naked all the time, can we? I mean, people will think we're nudists."
Daphne laughed to the point of snorting, but when she saw Sabrina's disapproving face, she stopped.
"I was thinking that we-" Mrs. Grimm started, but Sabrina interrupted.
"Who are you? And don't say you're our grandmother, because our grandmother is dead."
Mrs. Grimm shifted in her seat. Mr. Canis, obviously seeing the question as his cue to retire, got up, took his empty plate, and exited the room.
"But I am your grandmother, liebling," the old woman replied.
"Well, then why did our father tell us you died before we were born?"
"It's complicated, and I'm not sure it's time to discuss your father's decisions."
"Well, if you really were our grandmother, I would think you'd be happy to discuss it," Sabrina snapped.
"We are all just getting settled in, and we can talk about it later," Mrs. Grimm said. Her eyes dropped to her lap.
Sabrina leaped up from her seat, sending her fork clanging to the floor. "Fine! I'm tired. I'd like to go to bed."
Mrs. Grimm frowned. "Of course, liebling. Your room is upstairs. I will show you-"
"WE'LL FIND IT OURSELVES!"
Sabrina walked around the table, grabbed Daphne's hand, and dragged her from her chair.
"But I'm not done eating!" said Daphne.
"You're never done eating. Let's go!" Sabrina commanded.
She marched her sister through the house and up the stairs.
"You're being a snot," Daphne complained.
"I'm trying to protect us," Sabrina argued.
At the top of the stairs they found a long hallway with five closed doors, two on each side and one at the end. Sabrina yanked on the closest one, but it was locked tight. She turned and tried the door behind her. It opened to a bedroom decorated with dozens of wooden tribal masks, wild-eyed and smiling hideously. Two ancient swords were mounted on the wall alongside the masks, and there were pictures of Mrs. Grimm and her husband, Basil, everywhere. Like the ones downstairs, each photo was from a different part of the world. In one picture, Basil was standing at the top of an ancient stone temple; in another, the couple were guiding a gondola through what Sabrina guessed were Venetian canals. She closed the door and tried the next door.
Inside, Mr. Canis sat cross-legged on a woven mat on the floor, his hands resting on his knees. Several candles lit the nearly empty room, illuminating its sparse furnishings. There were no pictures or decorations at all. Mr. Canis opened his eyes to look at the girls, his eyebrows arched.
Sabrina slammed the door without apologizing. "What a nutcase," she muttered. The next door opened to reveal a queen-sized four-poster bed with their suitcases resting on top. Sabrina pulled Daphne inside and slammed this door, too.
"We should give her a chance. I like her!" said Daphne. She sat down on the bed and let out a harrumph.
"A chance to what? Kill us in our sleep? Feed us to that monster dog of hers? No way!" Sabrina said as she charged to the window and looked out at a back-porch roof below. She could probably jump off it and then to the ground, but Daphne might hurt herself. "While you were shoveling in those meatballs, did you ever think that they might be made from the last couple of kids she claimed she was related to?"
Daphne rolled her eyes. "You're gross!"
Sabrina scanned the bedroom, which had soft yellow walls, a slanted ceiling, and a fireplace. A red ten-speed bicycle stood in the corner, an old baseball mitt sat on a desk, and several model airplanes hung from the ceiling. There was a nightstand next to the bed, with an alarm clock perched on top. And on the walls were dozens of old photographs. A particularly large one showed two young boys staring out over the Hudson River.
"Want more proof that woman is an imposter? Look at this picture. If that's our dad, then who's this kid next to him? We don't have an uncle!"
"Do you hear that?" Daphne asked, moving toward the window.
Suddenly Sabrina heard a faint whistling sound, almost like a flute, coming from outside. She joined Daphne at the window and peered into the woods behind the house. At first she thought she had seen something or someone sitting in a tree, but when she rubbed her eyes for a clearer look there was no one there. Still the music continued.
"Where is that coming from?" Daphne asked.
Like an answer to her question, a little light flickered outside the window. Sabrina thought it was a lightning bug. It flew up to the glass as if it were trying to get a better view of her; then it was joined by another light. The two danced around each other, zipping excitedly back and forth in the air.
"They're so pretty," Daphne whispered as a dozen more lights joined the original two. Within seconds more joined them, until there were almost a hundred little lights blinking and flashing outside.
Sabrina reached up and unlocked the window. She wanted to get a closer look, but as she unfastened the window's latch, the bedroom door opened with a crash. Startled, the sisters spun around and found Mr. Canis looming over them.
"You'll leave that window closed if you know what's good for you!" he growled.
