Chapter 3

"You'll really stay a few extra days?"

Eleanor's voice on the other end of the line was bright with surprise.

I looked at myself in the mirror. My face showed nothing.

"Mm. The shop's been slow these past few days. I figured, since the baby just turned a hundred days old, I'd braid her a few protective knot charms."

"That's wonderful. Clement went up to the state capital for a meeting. I've been bored here on my own."

"I'll come over this afternoon."

At three o'clock I stood at the front door of the Dickerson villa, my suitcase beside me.

Eleanor came out to meet me herself.

She was wearing Maxine's favorite silk loungewear, her long hair loosely pinned back.

"Come in, come in."

She took my suitcase from me, easy about it.

I followed her into the living room.

The housekeeper brought out sliced fruit.

"Have some fruit. What do you feel like for dinner? I'll have Rebecca make it."

"Anything. You decide."

Dinner was four dishes and a soup.

One of them was a plate of poached beef in chili oil.

Eleanor picked up a slice of beef and rolled it through the dipping dish beside her.

The dish was spread with a layer of green cilantro.

My hand paused on my chopsticks.

Maxine never ate cilantro.

The smell of it alone turned her stomach.

I bent my head and took a mouthful of plain rice.

"Max, didn't you used to hate cilantro?"

Eleanor's chewing stopped for half a beat.

She swallowed the beef quickly and looked at me, smiling.

"After having the baby, my tastes changed. Things I never used to like, I find pretty good now."

"Is that so."

I didn't press any further.

After dinner, Eleanor took me to the nursery to see the baby.

The baby lay in her cradle, fast asleep.

On her head was the tiger-head cap I'd brought.

Eleanor stood at the edge of the cradle and rocked it twice, gently.

"Look how good she is."

"She is good."

I reached out to touch the baby's little hand.

Halfway there my wrist shifted, and I brushed the pulse point of Eleanor's wrist.

With my index and middle fingers, I tapped her wrist three quick times.

It was the signal Maxine and I had set as children.

Three taps meant: "Danger. Be careful."

Eleanor gave no reaction at all.

She didn't even glance down at my hand.

She only smiled and tucked the blanket in around the baby.

"You can sleep in the guest room next door these few days. Anything you need, just call for me."

"All right."

I watched her lift the baby and carry her back to the master bedroom.

The door shut in front of me.

I went back to the guest room too.

Locked the door.

From the inner compartment of my suitcase I took out a small wooden box.

Inside was a coil of black thread.

Bone-listening thread.

An off-path technique of yin embroidery.

When I made the tiger-head cap, I had already sewn a short length of the thread into the lining.

The other end was here in my hand.

I wound the black thread around my left index finger and gave it a light twist.

The thread pulled taut.

At first there was only the baby's faint breathing.

A long time passed before footsteps came from the master bedroom.

Then the sound of water being poured.

Then everything went quiet again.

Eleven at night.

Clement was not home.

Eleanor had carried her daughter back to the master bedroom.

There were only the two of them in the room.

I sat against the headboard and didn't sleep.

My fingers never stopped turning the thread.

Two in the morning.

Just as I was about to reel the thread in, the bone thread trembled.

A woman's voice came through from the other end.

Not Maxine's soft, gentle voice.

Low. Raspy.

Yin energy clung to the thread, boring into my ear bit by bit.

"There, there, don't fuss."

"Your mama's watching you."

"She's right in here—"