Page 17 of The Manor of Dreams

Nora watched Lucille’s younger sister tremble in the corner. She hadn’t said a word during this entire exchange.

“You’re saying that one of us killed our own mother?” Lucille scoffed.

“Youdoseem desperate to inherit the house.”

Clever, Nora thought, how Ma now shifted the suspicion onto them. This seemed to touch a nerve in all of them. Lucille started, “You—” But Ma stopped her, raising a hand.

“You know what? You should leave.”

“Absolutely not,” Lucille declared.

“If you had time to pursue this ridiculous accusation, I assume you’ve already collected your mother’s things. Get out or I’ll have you thrown out.”

Lucille planted her feet. “Let’s play this scenario out. The moment you kick us out ofourhome, I will contact the nearest police department. I will hire a detective. I will have them open an investigation. And no matter what, I will sue the hell out of you.”

Nora saw her mother’s expression fall slack.

“But,” Lucille continued, “there is an alternative. Like you said, there isn’t full clarity around what happened to our mother. So, I propose we investigate this ourselves. You let us stay in this house until the end of the week. If I can’t find any evidence of wrongdoing in this home—”

“Which there hasn’t been.”

“If there isn’t, then the house is yours. We will put this matter to rest and leave for good.”

Ma straightened up. “And you will never contest the will or contact us again.”

Lucille paused for a long moment. Then she nodded.

“Fine. You have until the end of the week. That’s it.”

“Thank you,” Lucille said evenly.

“But I want all of these terms in writing. And once the week is up—”

“We will leave promptly,” Lucille said. “We promise.”

Nora’s mother retreated to her room and Nora followed. The blinds were still closed, and the bedroom was dark and stuffy. The moment she sat down, her mother seemed to deflate and sag back into the bed.

“Ma, you have to tell mesomething,” Nora insisted. “None of this makes sense.”

Her mother closed her eyes. “My parents worked for the Yins,” she admitted faintly. “Ma was their housekeeper. Bà was the groundskeeper. We moved into the house when I was a kid.”

Nora started pacing. So this was how Ma knew her way around the house. Shehadlived here. And in coming back together, the families had snapped back into a hierarchy that Nora hadn’t known existed.

Now she was angry. “Then Vivian did know you. You have a rightto the house. You grew up here, too. Maybe she hated her daughters.” Or maybe it was more theoretical. What was the likelihood an elderly movie star was interested in wealth redistribution? “They shouldn’t stay here, then.” Nora nodded to herself. “They made it out like you were a stranger, but you’re not. And the house is legally ours. You can kick them out now.”

Her mother’s eyes flew open. “And what? Give them free rein to frame me for murder? Or sue us into bankruptcy, regardless? I didn’t have anything to do with Vivian’s death, but they will have come to that conclusion themselves.” Her voice rose sharply. “Please, Jia-Jia. Leave me alone. My head is still killing me.”

Nora felt another tremor that night. This time it was strong enough that the bed lurched back and forth. Nora scrunched the blankets to her chest and curled up in a ball. One of her study books thumped to the floor. It went on for what felt like minutes. After everything had gone still, she sat up and looked around her.

Another earthquake? What the hell was going on? Two earthquakes in a week wasn’t necessarily alarming in California, but she still felt an inching sense of dread. She stared at the study book that now lay on the ground. She was probably just stressed about this test. Sometimes anxiety gave her nightmares. Being in someone else’s weird house didn’t help, either.

She needed a walk. She threw her blankets off and shuffled out of her room. The first night here the hallways had been freezing. But now it felt warm and damp. Humid, almost. Like the walls were sweating. She paused in the kitchen and turned the light on. It flickered.

Nothing here worked. Moonlight streamed in through the glass door to the terrace. The door was ajar; Nora moved toward it. Outside, a figure stood on the terrace steps. Nora sucked in a breath when she realized that it was her mother.

She stepped outside. Her bare feet touched the cold stone ground. In her thin T-shirt, she crossed her arms against the damp chill. “Ma?”

Her mother didn’t respond. Nora called louder, “Ma?”

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