She hadn’t taken off her apron after the (accident? event? phenomenon?) incident in the kitchen, but she did so now, balling it up and tossing it in the empty chair. She leaned over and kissed the top of Bub’s head. “Do you believe me, too?” Bub stuck out his tongue and licked the back of her hand. “Well, I’m glad the two of you do, because I’m not so sure I believe myself.” Bub said nothing. “I was just imagining things, right? It was just snow or a bird. Like he said. Right?” Still no comment from Bub. He left his chin on the arm of the chair and panted. The fire hissed, popped, and…tinkled? Tess frowned and stared at the flames. The noise came again, fluctuating tones like the ringing of a cheap wind chime. But the sounds weren’t coming from the fireplace. She turned toward the kitchen. Footsteps on broken glass. There’s someone in the kitchen! “Warren?” Bub looked up at her, whined. It wasn’t Warren in the kitchen. She knew that. She could hear him in the bathroom on the opposite side of the house, rummaging through drawers, looking for tweezers.
