“So cool.”

“Get in,” Margot says.

“Really? You think it could hold me?”

“Absolutely. You’d have to crouch, but you could fit.”

Even though there’s no audience, this is exactly the kind of wild thing pre-motherhood Aimee would have done without a moment’s hesitation.

“Hold my wine,” I say. I slide my butt onto the counter and swing my feet around and into the dumbwaiter. I scoot in and turn around, sitting cross-legged in the box. Margot and I giggle like third graders playing hide-and-seek at recess.

“Take a picture of me,” I exclaim. I reach into my pocket, but there’s no phone. I must have left it in the living room, where the dance party is still happening.

“Pull your knees up a bit and I’ll close the door, send you for a ride,” Margot says.

“A ride?” I ask, wide-eyed. “Do you think you can operate this thing?”

“Sure. I’m not even drunk. I’ve had a couple, but you know we’re trying to get pregnant. I don’t want to overdo it.”

I thought Margot was using “not drunk enough” as an excuse earlier. I hadn’t imagined how anyone who had been stuck in this house with endless bottles of wine could be anything but wasted, and yet now that we are alone and in a quiet room, I know she’s telling the truth. I can see clarity in her eyes and hear strength in her voice. I trust her.

I nod my head and pull my knees up. Margot slowly closes the door and presses it hard so it locks. She speaks to me through the wood panel.

“There’s obviously a whole bunch of passageways, but only a single joystick to maneuver. I’m going to keep it simple and send you up to my room, which is directly above us.”

“And then I’ll come down from upstairs and no one will know how I did it,” I squeal.

Margot gives the door a tap and I wait for the box to move.

“Hold on, I’m moving the joystick but nothing’s happening. There must be a button to start the motor,” Margot says.

As I wait, I look up and down. Below me is darkness, but there’s light peering through the cracks above. I see two ropes dangling in the middle of the shaft. Suddenly there’s a loud roaring noise and the box shakes. I press my hands into the walls for balance.

“Found the motor button,” Margot says. “I have to hold it down. I let go too quick; that’s why you didn’t go anywhere.”

“Okay,” I say, noticing that it’s getting warmer in here. “Ready when you are.”

Margot presses the button and the box jerks violently. I begin to creep up slowly.

“I’m probably pushing the weight capacity on this thing,” I say. Margot either ignores me or can’t hear me over the motor.

I look down, and I can see the bottom of her shirt and the top of her pants through the crack between the box and the shaft below. This is so fun, I think.

The dumbwaiter stops abruptly.

“Margot?”

Silence.

“Margot?”

“Sorry, my finger got tired pressing the button so hard. Switching to my thumb,” she says.

Margot wouldn’t be so casual about the starts and stops if she knew it felt like a popcorn kernel in a microwave every time she presses the button. The entire box rattles and shakes. I can feel that I’m both trapped in a small space and hanging precariously, ready for a free fall. As the seconds tick on, the fun is being eaten up, along with my oxygen.

The motor roars to life again, and above me I watch the light from Margot’s room inch closer. I begin to count the seconds under my breath. Eight, nine, ten… The dumbwaiter stops in place. I’m lined up with the rectangular door, but I can’t open it. I press my hands against the wood panel but it doesn’t budge. I feel my hands in the dark for some kind of latch or handle, but there’s nothing.

“Uh, Margot. We have a problem. I don’t think these doors are meant to be opened from the inside.”

Once again, there’s silence.

“Margot?” I call, this time a little louder. I don’t think she’s messing with me, but maybe I took our drunk bonding dance party more to heart than she did.

“Margot, this better not have been a sick joke. Margot, this is scary now.”

The parlor-trick moment is gone for me. I want out and I don’t care who helps me.

“Margot!” I shout.

I hear a click echo in the shaft. A glimpse of movement catches my eye from above. There’s another rectangular door space above me. It must go to an attic where they keep supplies.

“Hello?” I call. I keep my eyes peeled in every direction but I see no one. I hear nothing. Was that Rini, or a ghost? The magic I felt in the pantry is gone and the haunting feeling is back.

I begin to pound on the door and shout at the top of my lungs. A moment later the door to Margot’s room pops open. I push it wide as a woman with dark hair slips out into the hallway. Rini?

“Wait,” I call. I unfurl my legs to chase after her, but I collapse to the ground next to Margot’s bed. My right thigh has fallen dead asleep. The pins and needles burn. I hobble to stand, using the desk chair as a crutch, but before I can chase after the woman, I spot the note. It’s handwritten in hasty chicken scratch.

You shouldn’t be here.

“Aimee?” Margot opens the door to her bedroom as I massage my leg.

“What took you so long?” I ask.

“Ted caught me downstairs. He wanted to dance to the end of ‘Watermelon Sugar’ before he’d let me go. Are you okay?”

“Look.” I show Margot the note.

“Is it a warning to stay out of the dumbwaiters?” she asks.

I’d love to believe that, but even I’m not that delusional. Although it was on the desk in Margot and Ted’s room, something tells me this note was written for me. It’s the same message I’ve been getting from my intuition all weekend. Unfortunately, there’s nothing that can be done now that the storm has locked us inside. I’m stuck in this house with something or someone who doesn’t want me here. And she’s getting bolder.

RINI

I didn’t get what I needed out of the Moon Men event last night, but I have a new plan. This time I’m not going to hint at the subject, and I’m not going to convince myself there’s always tomorrow. I’m going to get what I brought him here for, and I won’t stop until I do.

As I turn the corner from my private office hidden upstairs in the second wing, I slam into Rick and Eden. They’re standing very close to each other, face-to-face and holding hands. The vibe is intimate but intense.

“Just the woman I didn’t realize I needed,” Rick says.