Sophie Mae entered the pantry and divided the sheaves of wheat leaning against the shelf. Gently placing the travel box behind, she fluffed the stalks, concealing the box. Now I won’t lose it again.

Leaving the kitchen for the dining room, she searched for the invisible girl, not sure how to do such a task. She kept her ears attuned to any sound that might lead her to Dink. With the dining room empty, she continued through the arched doorway to the library, where her eyes raced to the top of the bookcase rising almost nineteen feet tall. Dark blue and green book spines mingled with a few gold ones.

Shelves on the opposite side were the same height but descended like stairs. They grouped encyclopedias by year with the 1935 collection on the bottom shelf. A metal track circled the room with a rolling ladder. If I weren’t a guest, I’d take it for a spin.

Two cozy wing-backed chairs flanked each of the massive hearths at the ends of the room. Sophie Mae brushed the soft velvet chair, and it encouraged her to have a seat, if only for a moment. Lowering into the chair released the tension in her back and neck. She closed her eyes. I could get used to this.

“Greetings, Miss Sophie.”

She jumped and stood at attention.

The transparent butler grew solid, just as Dink had earlier in the kitchen. Dressed formally in a black suit and bow tie, a calmness flowed from his eyes. His thin, gray hair made him appear older than his face suggested. “I am glad you’ve returned. Might I interest you in a cup of tea, or water perhaps?”

“Yes, please… water, I mean.”

With a blue-tinted goblet in hand, he offered the drink, which she accepted without hesitation. The icy liquid soothed her lips. This is the best water I’ve ever tasted. It’s certainly not barrel water.

“I am sorry to hear the most basic of human needs has been lacking,” he frowned. “Your stay here will provide you with a lifetime of clean water.”

Sophie Mae tried to remember if she’d mentioned the water aloud. The problem of living alone for so long meant that sometimes you conversed with yourself. “Um…yes. Thank you, Mr. …”

“Mr. Langston, at your service. Do not hesitate to ask for assistance. If that will be all, then?” Mr. Langston exited the room, quieter than he’d entered.

She added him to the running list of residents in her mind, including Dink and Mr. Kimall, who wasn’t technically part of the household. I need to find Dink, and as I look, I’m sure more will appear.

The dining room’s double doors opened to the gravel path behind the house. Bumblebees whirred past in a game of hide-and-seek, darting in and out of a honeysuckle vine. Sophie Mae plucked a white bloom and pinched off the end. The sweet drop of nectar was like a taste of heaven.

The walkway made a sharp right to the foot of a massive rose garden planted on a mound. Blooms of varying sizes and colors created a fragrance like that of a delicate perfume.

A round woman leaned into the bushes. Dirt and weeds flew over her head, landing on the edge of her skirt. She piled cut flowers into a flat, woven basket. She seemed normal and not ghostly like the others. The crowing of an older man had her dropping her scissors. “I hear ya, old coot.”

She waddled around the edge of the garden, murmuring to herself. Suddenly she came to a stop. The lower lid of her eyes twitched as she turned to examine Sophie Mae.

“Well, looky here,” she said. “You’re the girl. The one Ms. Catherine always told us about. Oscar D, come quick!”

Sophie Mae masked her anxiety with a toothy grin as Oscar D arrived. He wiped his hands on a towel. “What is it?” He shifted to look at Sophie Mae. “Oh, I see.”

The couple looked to be in their eighties, and both wore knitted sweaters despite the warm summer temperatures. The man’s white hair sprouted in a semi-circle along his receding hairline. His cheeks were round with a rosy glow, like a garden gnome.

The woman’s sturdy build was softened by short, silver curls and large, octagonal glasses. The wrinkles falling from the corners of her eyes and lips grew deeper as she grinned.

“I’m Sophie Mae Bastrop. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“She’s a polite one at that!” she elbowed the man. “I’m Myrtle Mayville, but everyone calls me Myrt. This here is Oscar D, my husband and the estate's gardener.”

He held out his hand. “Oscar Daniel Mayville. Nice to meet you.”

Sophie Mae swallowed hard. “I…I was wondering if you could tell me why everyone looks like ghosts?’

“I’m guessing by your question you haven’t met George?” Myrt said. “And you must meet George. Oh, and also Mrs. Worthington. She has a daughter about your age. Why don’t you come with me? I can give you the tour while we deliver the flowers.”

“Where do I begin?”

“Well, for starters, hold this basket.” Myrt shoved the flowers into her arms. “The blue ones go to Ms. Catherine’s room, even now she’s gone. I put yellow and white in the common areas and red in the guest rooms because they are the most elegant of the blooms.” Myrt adjusted her eyewear. “That means you get red. Or blue, perhaps.”

Sophie Mae blushed at Myrt’s assumption she’d replace Aunt Catherine. She gathered the basket whose feminine blooms were at odds with her old clothes and dirty hair.

Oscar D turned to Myrt and kissed her cheek. “I have to be going. The ladder in the barn needs fixing again. Elephants don’t use ladders, but I guess it’s expected when you have circus pets. Now, darling, be nice to the young lady.”

“Never mind him. Come along, child.”

She followed Myrt toward a small cottage. The thatched roof and squared windows felt like walking into a fairy tale, hopefully one with a happy ending. Pink, yellow, and red tulips surrounded the home and the gravel trail to the door.

“That’s my cottage, there past the field,” Myrt said. “I need to change into cleaner clothes before I enter the big house, if you don’t mind?”

“Not at all.”

They hustled down the garden path, and the familiar clucking of hens caught Sophie Mae’s attention. “Does the estate have chickens?”

“Do we have chickens?” Myrt looked at her sideways. “Of course, child. No one can survive without chickens these days. They’re the best breed money can buy, though most hatch right here on the estate. Care to see them?”

“Yes, please.”

They strayed from the formal path onto a worn dirt trail. The familiar odor of bird droppings reminded Sophie Mae of Drycrop. They crested a hill where a small pond and a chicken coop with three nesting levels stood. Outside the fenced area were four white boxes that housed colonies of honey bees.

Myrt turned a fierce shade of red and cinched the bottom of her skirt a few inches, stomping toward the high-pitched chatter of hens. “Billy Worthington! Leave those hens alone this instant!” Feathers billowed from the openings of the hen house as birds scattered like they were being chased by a hungry wolf.

Myrt stamped her foot. “I mean it.”

“Sorry, ma’am,” a voice said.

“I should hope so. Now, don’t be rude. Make yourself visible to our guest.”

Loose feathers clung to Billy’s mucky clothes, and his untied laces dredged the sloshy mud at the edge of the pond. Sophie Mae knew boys like him when she was younger, most of whom had a strong desire for mischief.

“You stay out of the hen house. Would you like it if I snuck up on you and yanked at your hair? Where is your mother?”

He brushed the ground with his shoe. “I’m not sure, ma’am.”

Myrt’s lids twitched at the boy, and a sly smile grew on her face. “Billy, I want you to take Miss Sophie Mae here on a tour of the home. Show her to her room. Can you handle this and keep out of trouble?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He dragged the tip of his shoes along the dirt path. “Come on, let’s go.”

“Have fun now, kids,” Myrt waved. A peppy tune escaped her lips as she headed off to her cottage, basket in hand.

The boy kicked larger pebbles from the main path as he gnawed on a blade of grass. Though Billy was at least four years younger than her, he was taller by a foot, and his long legs kept a quick pace. She jogged to keep up. Halfway from the cottage to the mansion, he stopped and stared intently at Sophie Mae’s flushed face. “Myrt’s gone. We should cut across the lawn. It’ll be quicker.” Billy swerved through the flowing grass and recited a poem he wrote himself.

Over the hills and through the trees

Fled the blissful boy.

Swatting birds and smashing bees

With his sister’s favorite toy.

He flipped it high and drug it low

And on each rock, it bumped.

For at cliff’s edge he glanced below

and watched the dolly jump.

Sophie Mae ran in a straight line to make up for her short legs, but he was familiar with the landscape and ran much faster.

“Try to keep up.” Billy, now far ahead, stopped in an open field to pick stickers off his shirt.

Sophie Mae stepped to the cleared field and flipped back to the ground. Billy chuckled and howled as she struggled back to her feet.

“What happened?” Sophie Mae asked, rubbing her head.

“You might watch were you frolic, children.” The booming voice came from everywhere and nowhere simultaneously.

She crawled away from the giant elephant solidifying in front of her eyes. Wearing a dainty black hat with a blue flower, she bowed low and smiled.

“I… uh… apologize…?”

“Unnecessary, my dear. I am Mary Louise, and you must be Miss Sophie Mae. It is a pleasure to meet you. I feel I should warn you not to consort with Mr. Worthington. His ability to find trouble is astonishing.”

“Oh, that’s not true,” Billy whined, “I just like to have fun.”

“So you keep insisting,” Mary Louise winked. “This is my dear friend, Leggy.”

“How do you do?” Sophie Mae curtsied.

Billy fell to the ground, kicking his legs. “Look at you, talking to a giraffe. Giraffes can’t talk. Silly girl!”

“Oh, I thought, since Mary Louise could…”

“Quite alright, dear,” she assured. “It is a common mistake even Billy made not too long ago.”

“Let's get outta here,” Billy huffed. “These two blowhards couldn’t have fun if they tried.” His callused hand scratched her inner wrist as he pulled her through the field.

“Nice to have met you,” Sophie Mae shouted back.

Billy led her to the house and snuck in through the delivery entrance, smirking, “This is where the real fun begins!”

George the Great panted as he ran through the low-cut grass behind the Gardenia Estate. Fruit and nut trees marked the property line, larger than two football fields.

In his usual black pants with the satin stripe, he wore a baggy, white dress shirt under a vest. The sleeves were wide enough to hide a full-grown rabbit or two small pigeons.

Gripping the ball with his left hand, he flung it about sixteen feet. The ground trembled as Mary Louise pounded across the grass, following the motion of the ball to its expected landing. She sprang to her hind feet, and the ball bounced off her forehead, where she caught it with her trunk.

“Excellent, Elephana! Here it comes again. Ready?”

Mary Louise tilted her head downward and glared into his eyes. “Really, George. You know quite well, that is not my name. Imagine if I called you ‘the Great’ all the time?”

“That’d be wonderful. What’s wrong with Elephana, anyway? It’s so, so… fitting.”

“And not my name. You still have your head in the circus, but I most certainly do not.”

“Don’t you remember the first time we met? You were so young, and you loved reading your circus name on that gaudy, purple banner under the big top.” George outstretched his arms, “Elephana the Talented!”

Mary Louise flapped her eyelashes in disbelief and turned for the barn. “That was before the potion. The potion you gave me. I think I shall retire early.”

“Okay. I’m sorry, Mary Louise. I’ll never call you by that name again.”

She stopped and looked back to George. “Do you promise?”

He bowed, arms wide. “Yes, now, can we finish our game of catch? I have a schedule to keep.”

Her eyes sparkled and she charged across the field. Despite both enjoying the pastime, a game of catch wasn’t the best sport for elephants, as running and tracking a ball through the sky left them with limited visibility.

George winced at Mary Louise’s collision course with Leggy, who munched on a willow tree at the edge of the yard.

“Watch out!” he yelled.

Leggy’s neck swooped toward the ruckus, and her hind legs swiveled to the right. Mary Louise grazed Leggy’s tail. Landing sideways on the ground, she rolled several feet, pulling up chunks of grass and staining her gray skin green. The orange ball rose high like a trophy on the end of Mary Louise’s trunk.

“Nice save!” George said.

Leggy stalked toward him and twirled his hair upward with her sticky tongue. George patted her side. “How are you doing today, my friend?”

Leggy hummed and hued, more like a humpback whale than an enormous land mammal. George adored her mischievous ways that didn’t include arguing over names and badgering him to bring home more circus animals. Space was tight enough with the two.

George the Great discovered the invisibility potion months ago. Though he understood the effects faded with the intake of food or drink, Leggy proved to be the exception. She grazed from dawn to dusk, and the potion never failed.

Mary Louise, who very much enjoyed having her own voice, swore off the delicacies of the estate as a precaution.

The ball lay several feet away, and he rushed to claim it. “Here comes the last throw.” The ball flew from his hands, and Mary Louise dashed in the opposite direction. He scratched his head and watched her run toward Leggy, who dunked her head into the maze of hedges.

George soured at the elephant slime that coated his hands. A red handkerchief followed by a yellow one wiped the mess as he hurried to the attraction. “What’s going on over here?”

Mary Louise leaned toward him but kept her eyes locked on the hedge. She never understood the size of her voice, and the attempted whisper was anything but. “Dink is hiding out in the maze. She requests privacy, and I suggest you do as she asks. Baby humans are feisty creatures.”

“Ugh…I’m not a baby. I’m fifteen years old, Elephana.”

“Feisssty!” she winked. “I am heading back to the barn. Come along, Leggy. It is best to not intervene in these strange human affairs.”

Leggy followed the chattery Mary Louise to the barn, nodding the entire way.

“Wait!” George yelled across the field. “Don’t you want to find out what’s going on?”

The friends continued on their way. Well, I guess it’s up to me, then. George rolled his sleeves and crawled under the bushes of the maze. The spiky leaves jabbed him at every move, producing an awkward grin when he cleared the plant. Dink sneered at him.

Six feet away, and on the opposite side of the path, George gave her plenty of space. The silence between them lasted several minutes until he worked up the nerve to speak. “That elephant can be a real tusker.”

Dink glared.

“But she might be right about your attitude.”

“It’s not my fault if I’m invisible.” Dink tucked her legs. “Why does everyone have to point out how different I am? I’m a normal girl in an abnormal house, but I’m not a freak!”

“What did Billy do this time?”

“Not my stupid brother, the new girl. I wanted to be her friend and help her out, but nooo, she has to be nosy about my invisible thing.”

George fished a holly leave from his collar. “It’s normal for her to be curious. I’m certain she’s never met invisible people before. This house and its residents can be a lot to process.”

“It doesn’t give her the right to be nosy.”

“Maybe not, but talk to her and explain how you feel. Maybe you’ll find you’re only miscommunicating. She might be asking because being invisible is neat.”

“Neat?”

“Yes. Neat.”

Dink’s head sunk. Words mumbled from her mouth.

“I didn’t catch that.”

“I said I can’t talk to her now.”

“Why not?”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“It could be fun to try.” His eyebrows pitched like dueling circus tents.

“I can’t talk to her now because I’m embarrassed about the whole thing. She’ll think I’m moody. And what could be worse than a moody, invisible girl?”

George clenched his jaw, fighting the urge to agree. He stood and straightened his vest. “Go find her, or I’ll send Eleph– Mary Louise over here to swing you around by your foot.”

“You’re not my dad, you know.”

“No, I’m not.”

Dink stared intently, but relented at the seriousness in his eyes.

“Fine.”

His head dropped in relief as Dink stormed down the maze and ducked between two bushes. He checked his watch and rubbed his unruly hair flat.

Grabbing his jacket from the table, it flapped as he raced back to the basement lab for his bag. I have to hurry, so I don’t miss her like last time.