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Sonya walked over to Cleo.

“Owen says to mix up the deer spray and use it.”

“He gets bossy, but he’s probably right. The last thing we want is those pretty deer coming in and nibbling on all this. Go look at my herb bed! And the rest. And it smells so good already.”

“I will. And if you’ve got the rest of this, I’ll go make sandwiches.”

“I’ve got it, and I’m hungry.” Cleo glanced up. “You’ve got dirt all over your face, Son.”

“I do?” She swiped at it. “They could’ve told me.”

Annoyed, she went around to see the herb bed. So pretty, she thought, and hadn’t they been smart to get those sweet little plaques to stick in the ground that identified the herbs?

Since she’d gone that far, she continued around the front to admire the tiny lights running along the branches and the blossoms dripping from them.

She drew in the warm spring air, the scent of it carried on the steady sea breeze.

A good day’s work, she thought. Lights, flowers to dress her home.

When she went inside, Clover greeted her with Ella Fitzgerald and “A Flower Is a Lovesome Thing.”

“Sounds like an old one, but a new one for me. You’re expanding my musical vocabulary.”

After she washed up, she just had to look out the windows. Flowers on the deck, flowers in the beds, Cleo in her adorable garden hat, men hanging lights among the wisteria she imagined dripping color and scent before much longer.

Still brimming with happiness, she got out the sandwich rolls, the deli meats, cheeses. Ice-cold Cokes—unless the men wanted a Saturday afternoon beer—good sandwiches, plenty of chips.

A kind of inaugural garden picnic.

As she worked, she heard the dumbwaiter hum its way up to the butler’s pantry. It made her smile and wonder what Molly sent up. Maybe another pretty platter for the sandwiches, or picnic plates.

She stopped to go into the butler’s pantry and open the dumbwaiter.

The rat, big and black, stared back at her with feral red eyes. Its long, skinny tail swished. It bared its teeth.

She couldn’t stop the scream, or the second that ripped out of her as she slammed the door shut again and stumbled back.

She heard it scrabbling inside, even as she heard the laugh, the long, terrible laugh, echo from above.

Cleo burst in, rushed to her.

“What is it? Shut the fuck up!” she shouted when the laugh came again.

“Don’t open it. Don’t open it.”

Trey ran in, and Owen, and the dogs, even the cat as Cleo wrapped around Sonya.

“She’s shaking,” Cleo said, and wrapped tighter. “I don’t know what happened.”

“In there.” As she pointed, smoke leaked out of the dumbwaiter. “God, oh God. A rat. There’s a rat.”

Immediately, Cleo hauled Sonya several feet away.

“I don’t think so,” Trey murmured, and even as Sonya shouted, “Don’t!” he opened it.

A trail of smoke billowed out, then nothing.

“It wasn’t real.” For whatever reason, the realization made Sonya shake harder. “It wasn’t real.”