Ruby Fever

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The war in Ukraine started when this book was in its final editing stages. It is still raging as we write this dedication. We cannot stop the war, but we can help the survivors. A quarter of this book’s royalties will be donated to UN Refugee Fund.

“Is it haunted?”

Oh, for the love of . . . “No, Arabella.”

My sister squinted at the monstrosity of an estate growing closer as the SUV sped up the gently climbing driveway. “Look at all the towers. It looks haunted.”

“It’s not,” Bern said.

“How do you know it’s not haunted?” Leon asked from the back.

Because ghosts didn’t exist. “Because Trudy is a nice person, I like her, and she wouldn’t let us buy a haunted house.”

“Yes,” Arabella said, “but did you ask if it was?”

“I did, and Trudy said no.” Our poor, long-suffering Realtor had answered more bizarre questions in the last couple of months than she had during her whole career.

My little sister whipped out her phone and bent her blond head over it.

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