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Ezra raises both hands. “That one was me.”

“Useful clarification.”

Ezra changes my focus by pointing toward the cabinet where jars are filled with what looks like ritual materials. “The jars came with the house. Theo catalogued everything because he gets twitchy without a project.”

Theo returns with a glass of water, a folded cloth, and a bowl of sliced peaches. He places them on the table. “You need water. You ran in the heat.”

He offers the cloth. It’s cool and faintly scented with lavender. I press it to the back of my neck and close my eyes as the chill slides beneath my curls. Theo’s low purr fills the room. His palm settles against the back of my neck over the damp cloth. Warmth spreads through me, steady and grounding. My body relaxes into the pressure before I can become self-conscious about how much I like it.

“That feels wonderful,” I say. “Thank you.”

The purr stutters.

Ezra grins.

I reach for a peach slice. Juice runs over my thumb, sweet and cold. My stomach welcomes it with enough enthusiasm to make me take a second. Around a bite, I ask, “What did you find when you did your inventory of the cabinet?”

“Lots of things that seem random. I catalogued them because Ezra kept opening jars.”

“I was curious.”

“You sneezed ash for two days,” Theo says.

“It was a memorable week.”

I move closer to the glass. One jar holds a coil of white ribbon tied in a loose knot. Another contains dried swamp lilies, their petals browned at the edges. “Were these found in the cemetery?”

“Don’t know. They came with the house,” Theo says. “Some were in the attic.”

“Do you know what they were used for?”

“No.”

The odd collection of ribbon and dried swamp lilies leaves me slightly unsettled. It wasn’t long ago that similar materials appeared in the relief bundles used to distribute GatorX through Sweetheart Haven. The plants and ribbons weren’t the cause of the bond damage, but seeing the same pieces gathered here makes the back of my neck prickle. I grab my notebook and make notes when a soft knock sounds deeper in the house. One tap. Then another.

Ezra looks toward the hall. “There it is again.”

Theo’s body shifts nearer mine. His purr continues, lower now, a steady vibration beneath the quiet.

“I thought you said you didn’t have any more ghosts?” I ask.

“We don’t. The house is like the bell. Sometimes it talks for no reason I can see,” Theo says.

I look from the ribbon to the hallway. “Does it always come from the same place?”

“No,” Ezra says. “It moves.”

“Then we should follow it.”

Theo’s brows lift.

“It may be random,” I add. “But if the pattern repeats, it gives us something to test.” I’m already moving.

The hallway opens into a small office stacked with ledgers and old records. A second knock comes from the room beyond.

I pause at a shelf filled with labeled boxes. “Property maps, burial records, water surveys.” My fingers hover over the last box. “You have water surveys?”

Theo takes it down before I can climb onto the chair beside the shelf.