The Marshall home was a nondescript brick building, nearly identical to the rest in the row along 64th Avenue. A sagging willow tree hung over the walkway like a curtain, obstructing the front of the home's windows from view. Rolland always talked about chopping the tree down, but as Henry ascended the stairs to the entrance, he was thankful for the cover from any nosy neighbors.

After two quick knocks, a prim maid answered the door. Chelsea's smiling face was a familiar one to Henry; she was always the first person to greet Henry for his frequent visits to the Marshall home. Her somber expression this day meant she was aware of the reason behind Henry's visit.

"I'll let Mr. Marshall know you're here," she whispered as she opened the door for him to enter.

"How's your family?" Henry asked, removing his hat and coat in the foyer.

Over the countless hours at Lily's bedside, Henry heard much about Chelsea and her large, extended family. Her face brightened at Henry's sincere interest.

"My daughter, Nell, finally had her baby," she beamed. "A little boy named David."

Henry smiled. It was nearly a month since his last visit, and he was a little embarrassed he'd completely forgotten Chelsea was expecting her first grandchild.

"What a blessing," he replied, genuine happiness in his voice. Chelsea returned a small nod and hung-up Henry's coat and hat.

"Thank you, Dr. Glass. I will, uh, fetch Mr. Marshall for you then."

Alone in the foyer, Henry nervously paced about with his hat in his hands. The Marshalls were not an exceedingly wealthy family but admiring the rich woodwork and furnishings surrounding him made Henry feel like a pauper's son. His own father was a farmer and carpenter. Henry was raised to believe that any success a man enjoyed in life should come from the work of his hands. Had Henry's father lived long enough to see his son graduate from medical school, there was little doubt that he would have been exceedingly proud of his accomplishments, but it was a thought that gave Henry little comfort.

"Ah, Henry!" Rolland cried when he emerged from the parlor. "I'm glad you made the right decision."

Henry tried to hide his somber mood with a cordial handshake. He tried not to wince as Rolland delivered his famous crushing grip.

"May I speak with Faye?" Henry asked.

"She's waiting for you on the back patio. Take as much time as you need," Rolland replied, pointing toward the back of the building.

With a nod, Henry made his way down the hallway without delay. Crossing through the small mud room, then out the back door, Henry found himself on the shaded stone patio at the rear of the house within a matter of moments. Surrounded with tall, brick walls, the Marshall home's secluded backyard was a favorite retreat for Henry and Faye. The brick walls and tall trees thick vegetation meant the humble space felt miles away from the troubles of the city.

Since Henry's last visit, the landscape had been transformed into a beautiful quilt of spring greenery, from commanding ferns and wide, sprawling hostas. Reclining in the white-washed wicker chair under the elm tree, Faye reclined with a book. Henry just stood for a moment, watching her in that moment and feeling the bitter pang of regret and anger and frustration in his heart anew.

Faye was a tall, slender woman, much like her mother. Her soft brown hair framed a face with a narrow nose and penetrating, gray eyes. Her blank, serious expression changed immediately when she spied Henry watching her. Mercifully, she managed a weak smile as he approached.

"A part of me hoped you wouldn't come," she said.

"Please don't say that."

Setting her book aside to greet him, Faye was nearly as tall as Henry. Before he say anything further, Faye embraced him and pulled him near. Henry clutched a hand to the back of her head, savoring the softness of her hair. They stood in the garden, embracing one another in the quiet of the afternoon for nearly a minute before Henry finally pulled away.

"Then you know why I'm here?" Henry asked with a sigh.

"My father has never been good at keeping secrets from me," Faye replied. A small laugh escaped before she dropped her gaze. Looking back into Henry's eyes, it was clear she was doing her very best not to cry. "This is it then? He's really demanded the engagement be terminated?"

"I'm afraid he made it abundantly clear." Henry's voice faltered. Rolland was a stubborn man, and far too powerful to ever allow Henry to remain in touch with his daughter.

"Did he say it was because you left your practice?"

" He said it wouldn't be proper to have a son-in-law dabbling about with this paranormal business— not that it should matter to him." Henry grabbed Faye's hands and held her close. "No matter what I do, whether I'm a doctor or a beggar on the street, I promise to care for you."

Faye flashed Henry a wicked smiled and leaned closer.

"What if I told you that's not the whole truth?" she whispered.

When Henry pulled away with a bewildered look, Faye giggled.

"Let's just say that my father has been heavily influenced by a certain woman in his life," she continued. "A woman who may be driving this recent crusade of his."

"A woman?"

Faye shot a quick glance toward the window, the imposing figure of her father standing with hands in his pockets. Faye extended Henry the crook of her arm.

"Would you mind taking a turn around the garden? The foliage in the rear of the yard is really something to behold," she said with a wink. Henry, now noticing their intent observer, did as he was told and guided Faye away from the house where they could be neither seen nor heard.

After they were past the first row of bushes and safely out of earshot, Faye continued.

"Have you ever heard of Mary Swift?" Henry shook his head. "She and my father have become rather close in the past months. I don't think he would say that he is courting her, but I can think of no other way to describe their relationship. He spends each evening with her for dinner, and they have attended the opera a few times. She's the daughter of Charles Swift from the Swift Milling Company. Besides being independently wealthy, she's well-connected within the city. someone that is probably an ideal match for father."

Henry shook his head in disbelief. He'd heard of the Swift family before, but like many of the social circles in Baltimore it was never a loop in which he was part.

"I can't say I've ever heard of the woman, so I don't understand what your father's interest in her has to do with us?" Henry replied.

"It has everything to do with it! You see, Mary is a fairly devout Spiritualist. Every evening she hosts a séance in her home to commune with the spirits! I think she and my father became acquainted after mother passed. Don't get me wrong; I am glad for him to find happiness, but I don't approve of this nonsense with mysticism."

Henry continued walking by Faye's side in astonishment. It never occurred to him that Rolland was seeing a new woman, though it did not surprise him that such a bull-headed man would find himself directed by an equally imposing woman. Then again, love did make fools of us all, he supposed.

"You think Mary disapproves of our business?" Henry asked, though as he spoke the words aloud the answer seemed obvious.

"I'm almost certain that is it!" Faye replied, giving Henry's arm a squeeze of reassurance. "Which means that there may be a way we could still change his mind."

Henry halted.

"Your father has never changed his mind about anything."

"I've been putting a lot of thought into this, and I think if I could secure an invitation to one of Mary's séances then I think you could expose the entire thing as a hoax!"

"Do you really think Mary would invite me to her home?"

"Actually, I was thinking of inviting your brother, Jacob," she replied with a sly grin.

"Jacob?" Henry snapped. "Why on earth would you want Jacob there?"

"I didn't mean to hurt your feelings, darling, but Jacob would be perfect for the task. I love Robert terribly, but I fear that his social graces may be a bit too unpolished for the caliber of guest Mary entertains."

Henry pursed his lips: he knew she was right. Robert, though perhaps the cleverest of the three brothers, abhorred large gatherings and would be awkward and ineffective. Jacob, though, was outgoing and generally charming. At least as long as he didn't have too many drinks in him.

"What do you think Ms. Swift will do when Jacob ruins her séance and embarrasses her in front of her friends?" Henry asked.

"I don't know, but I hope at the very least the experience opens father's eyes to the theatrics of it all. I just want him to come to his senses."

Faye turned to face Henry. They had reached the end of the walking path where it terminated in a small stone cul-du-sac surrounded by trees and shrubs. Stealing a quick glance toward the house, Faye leaned over and planted a kiss on Henry's lips.

"I refuse to abandon my hope," she said, her eyes glistening with tears.

"And I refuse to abandon you." Henry tried to force a reassuring smile on his face, but it was proving too difficult. He squeezed Faye's hands. There was much at stake with their little plan.

"I will secure the invitation for Jacob as soon as possible. Let him know that we're counting on him, will you?"

"You know I will," Henry replied, smudging the lone tear on Faye's face with his finger.

"Good," she said, stepping away with a sniffle. "Then I suppose I better storm off in tears to let father hear what he needs to hear then?"