For once, she didn’t argue. We went hurriedly together back to Joan’s house, and Melinda let herself in with uncharacteristic clumsiness.

“Joan,” she called, and I smiled as I gripped her hand and felt her barely contained eagerness in how tight she squeezed back. “I think we are both going to get some rest before we start at the books again.”

“Bedroom at the top of the house!” called Joan back, just out of sight in the library where we’d left her ...