Next time, try to stay longer and see what happens, Meadow Lark had told me. Well, here I was, at the bottom of the staircase, so I started climbing it. Mint-green wallpaper with dark ferns covered the walls from the first floor to the ceiling of the second floor. Halfway up to the second floor, the staircase took a sharp turn and curled around all the way to the top. As usual, the house was quiet. All those times I had gone there and sat in that kitchen and smelled that pantry, and walked around the dining room and run my fingers across that carved table, and pushed the keys on the adding machine, I had never seen one person. There was no sound—no bacon sizzling or mama humming—and I wondered if anyone lived in that big, quiet house. When I reached the top of the stairs, I saw a long hallway with a window at the end. A carpet like the one in the dining room, with swirls and flowers and fringe, ran the length of the hallway.
