Kindred Spirits by Phoebe Rivers Page A

staircase that led from the third floor into the attic. My heart fluttered as I reached the top stair. A tingling began in my left ankle.
    It’s probably just mice, I told myself. Or maybe a trapped squirrel. I prayed that was all it was. Even so, I wished I’d brought one of Dad’s golf clubs or even my hot-glue gun.
    Taking a deep breath, I peered into the attic’s large open space, ready to run. Ready to scream.
    Instead I just shook my head.
    The two elderly spirits were rummaging through boxes of Christmas ornaments. They’d opened cedar chests. They’d knocked over old, unwanted furniture.
    Eleanor and Dwight. At it again.
    I turned to go, then stopped in horror. Eleanor had rested her plump hands on a large, upright wardrobe trunk. Her shimmery fingers fumbled with the brass clasps. She was opening the trunk.
    My mother’s trunk.
    The trunk filled with her beautiful dresses.
    The trunk filled with her smell.
    The trunk that contained my small connection to her.
    â€œNo way!” I cried. I ran at Eleanor, leaping over a stack of vinyl record albums. “That’s mine!”
    Eleanor’s tiny buttonlike eyes widened. She backed away.
    I stood protectively in front of the trunk. They’d gone too far this time. “This doesn’t belong to you!” I cried.
    Dwight glanced up, then returned to rummaging through a canvas bag of old beach toys.
    â€œNone of this belongs to you,” I said. “You can’tsnoop through other people’s stuff. What are you looking for?”
    â€œWe don’t know. But we can’t stop,” Eleanor said pitifully. She turned to rifle through a pile of books. “We know it’s here. Or somewhere.”
    â€œHow will you know when you find it, if you don’t know what you’re looking for?” I was getting frustrated.
    They both stopped. “We’ll know. We will know because the anxiety will leave,” Dwight said.
    â€œAnxiety?” I asked.
    â€œWe both feel it. Like when you misplace your keys. Or forget your friend’s birthday,” Dwight explained. “We know what we’re looking for, but we can’t remember. We just know we need to find it.”
    This was growing more confusing by the minute.
    â€œSo you lost something? Maybe a key? Or a wallet? Was it a card in a wallet? Is it a photo?” I ran through a list of possibilities.
    Dwight shook his head after each. Eleanor wrung her hands together.
    I kept tossing out things they could’ve lost. Dwight stood by an old suitcase covered with travel stickers. He ran his hand over each one in a daze. His narrowshoulders slumped in distress. Eleanor wandered about. “Where? Where?” she muttered.
    I tapped my foot restlessly. My eyes darted from a broken vacuum to a one-armed doll to the dusty stack of faded board games. I was overcome by a desire to open every box in the attic. I wanted to find it too. I didn’t know what it was, but I wanted to find it to calm my now jittery nerves.
    I bit my lip. The spirits’ emotions were seeping into my body. I couldn’t let that happen. Whenever it did, it caused trouble and I felt sick. I had to separate myself.
    I bolted down the stairs, leaving Dwight still touching the travel stickers and Eleanor peering under a mousetrap. I ran all the way to the first floor.
    I felt bad for Eleanor and Dwight. I finally understood their helplessness. Their yearning.
    I pushed aside the purple curtain. The spicy scent of Lady Azura’s cinnamon candles greeted me.
    â€œThe empress, the mighty one, has shown herself,” Lady Azura was saying. She bent forward in her armchair, peering at the tarot card lying faceup on the table. A woman in a flowered dress, with red hairswooped into a bun, sat across from her.
    They both stared at me.
    â€œWhat is wrong?” Lady Azura asked, alarmed.
    â€œNothing, well, it’s not an emergency,” I fumbled. I wished I had