The next morning at breakfast (scrambled eggs and peanut butter pancakes and bacon), Elvis got a call and was asked if he could please bring his rescue dog back and help them look for a couple more missing people in the worst struck area. Of course he had to say yes. I offered to go with him, but I could tell from the way he looked at me that it would be a very difficult day, that is, in a death and dismemberment kind of way.
It hung there for a couple of minutes before Ducky said, “I’m taking these poor boys shopping. I can’t imagine how they’ve tolerated looking like refugees from the fifties this long. Then they’re going to help me clean out the attic…and the third floor. I think our ghost is happy now.”
“Why?” Brandon asked.
“The music.” Ducky sighed. “I wish you could both stay her
