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the house. When there was no answer, he raised his voice and tried again. "Mother!"
    "Good Lord, boy!" a voice boomed. In walked Sylla Brody Cobb. "Why are you screamin’?" She took one look at Brody, noticed his wristwatch, and smacked him on the back of the head with an open hand. "We’re supposed to look authentic, bird brain."
    Brody rubbed the head sheepishly, but didn’t look surprised or disturbed by his mother’s behavior. Apparently, it happened quite often. "Yes, Mither ." He slid off his watch but kept it in his hand.
    Liv smiled, thinking that Brody’s behavior reminded her of her little brother, Dougie, and that he’d have that watch back on his wrist the second he was out of his mother’s sight.
    "If you’ll excuse me, ladies." He bowed deeply at the waist.
    Both Sylla and Kayla rolled their eyes. Liv laughed.
    "I need to get back to my post." He nearly winked at Liv but thought better of it when he noticed Kayla watching him like a hawk. Everyone in the room heard his nervous swallow.
    "Let’s sit," Sylla told Kayla and Liv after the women had exchanged greetings.
    Liv wondered if Brody was adopted as Sylla led them towards a set of stairs. A quick look at Kayla, who was studying Sylla carefully, let Liv know she was wondering the same thing. Sylla was short, stout, big-boned woman with a big head, big butt and… Liv looked down… big feet. Her hair was worn in a tight bun and she had a smile her friends would call infectious.
    If she had friends.
    Or smiled.
    "I was quite surprised to hear from you, Ms. Redding," Sylla remarked as she began leading the women up a large oak staircase whose wooden steps had been stained a shade of brown so dark it was nearly black. They were on their way to a part of the Manor that wasn’t open to the public.
    As they climbed, Liv admired the gleaming, openwork banister that had been cut from solid hardwood and stained to match the steps. The scent of lemon wood polish and dust lingered in the air. The house looked remarkably well preserved, and despite its size it didn’t have that sterile museum-like quality, rather, it looked like a functioning home, with minor warts and all.
    Kayla cleared her throat and made a valiant attempt at being sociable. "Thank you for agreeing to talk with us." She relaxed a little when Liv took her hand and threaded their fingers together, silently praising her effort. "I was curious after discovering Cyril Redding’s marriage to Faylinn Cobb. I’m afraid it wasn’t very well-documented in my family."
    "That’s too bad," Sylla said gravely. "Family heritage is a very valuable commodity to the Cobb family."
    Kayla bristled at the implied slight. "I can see that. If I’m not mistaken, the sign out front set the value at four pounds."
    Liv gaped at her companion. "Kayla," she chided under her breath. "Be nice."
    "What?" Kayla mouthed silently with all the innocence she could muster. "She started it."
    But Sylla remained unfazed. " Och ! That wasn’t my doin’. We’re only open three days a week and it was my husband’s idea that we wear these costumes." She let out a long-suffering sigh. "It was this or plow under the gardens." She shook her head. "Soulless highway robbers is what those gardeners are. Brody is to apprentice with one next summer. Thank the Lord."
    Liv had to smother her laughter with her hand. "Are you built on a graveyard?" she asked, remembering the brochure at their Bed & Breakfast that advertised a pub nearby that was supposedly haunted. "Seems like hauntings of all sorts are big business."
    Sylla snorted loudly. "No, dammit. And just our luck, too. Though the tourists do seem to enjoy our home, and we’ve done quite well this summer." At the top of the stairs the women rounded the corner, and Sylla abruptly stopped and bent over, her new position thrusting her large bottom straight up into the air.
    Kayla shivered inwardly and was certain she heard a faint ‘be nice’ repeated to her silently.
    Sylla pulled