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dear.”
    Brianna sighed. “Same old same old. He wants me to be something I’m not. But he’s gone now, off to Philly for the weekend. Cheer me up. What do I have to see?”
    “I’m going to give you an address. It’s on Beacon Hill. How quickly can you get here?”
    Brianna was the only person Casey had ever told about her connection to Cornelius Unger. Now she was silent a second too long before asking a cautious, “Are we talking Leeds Court?”
    “The same.” Casey had driven her past the house more than once. “Do you remember how to get here?”
    “With my eyes closed. Do I have to dress up?”
    Casey smiled. “Dress down. I literally ran over.”
    “Give me twenty minutes.”

    *
    “Yours?” Brianna asked as they stood side by side at the front gate, looking up at the house.
    “Apparently.”
    “How cool!”
    “That’s one word for it,” Casey mused. “Another is pathetic. I’d have been happier with a phone call before he died. Or a letter. A letter would have been nice.”
    “He wasn’t the type, Casey. You knew that.”
    “I did. But there was always a part of me that said he was just so bashful or shy or… or something … that he didn’t know how to do it. I always had a little bit of hope that he’d find a way.”
    “Maybe this is his way.”
    “The grand gesture?”
    “I’m serious,” Brianna said. “This is his house. It’s him.”
    An iron gate rattled halfway around the Court. They looked that way just as a man came through. He was in his thirties, tall, and finely sheathed in a multicolored racing shirt and black biking shorts. As they watched, he reached back to lift a shiny yellow racing bike up and over the gate.
    “Oh my,” Casey whispered. She wasn’t referring to the bike.
    Brianna leaned close to whisper back, “Who is he? ”
    “Beats me, but he is very nicely built.”
    The man was straddling his bike as he strapped on his helmet. Settling a tight butt on the seat, he fit his first shoe to its clip and was about to push off when he saw them. Dismounting again, he walked his bike over and smiled.
    “If you’re looking to buy this house,” he warned, “I have to tell you there’s a ghost in there. His name is Angus, and he lives in the master bedroom.”
    “Is that so?” Casey asked with a smile.
    “I’m told, but then there are ghost stories about most of these houses. Are you looking to buy?”
    “That depends,” said Brianna. “Would you recommend the neighborhood?”
    He considered the question. “It’s getting better. Getting younger, slowly, as the old guard dies off.”
    Casey tossed her head toward Connie’s house. “Was he old guard?”
    “From the looks of him, he was. Personally, I never talked with the guy. He kept to himself, wasn’t outgoing, if you know what I mean. It’d be neat to get fresh blood in here. Are you two related?”
    It wasn’t the first time they’d been asked that. Brianna was dark-haired to Casey’s light, but they were the same height, had the same build, and often, like now, dressed alike.
    “Friends,” Brianna said.
    “We roomed together in college,” Casey explained. “I’m the one looking at the house. She’s along for the ride.” Lest he misunderstand the relationship, she added, “She has a boyfriend.”
    “With whom she’s on the offs,” Brianna said quickly, “and she “— she pointed a thumb at Casey—“has two in tow.”
    “Wrong,” Casey told her. “Dylan’s just a guy pal, and Ollie’s done.” She looked at her neighbor. “What’s a nice guy like you doing in a stuffy old place like this?”
    He grinned. “Thought I hit it big in investment banking, so my wife and I moved in. Now that the market has stalled, we’re expecting a child. I guess I like being mortgaged to the hilt.”
    Brianna hung her head. “He has a wife.”
    Casey sighed. “The good ones always do. When is your wife due?”
    “August. She was biking with me until the doctor nixed it. If you have