The email was short, formal in a way that felt at odds with every conversation I'd had with Eleanor so far, clearly drafted by someone on her staff rather than Eleanor herself, all clean lines and proper letterhead.
~Ms. Voss requests the pleasure of your company, along with Mr. Sinclair, at the estate this weekend. Friday through Sunday. A car will be arranged unless you prefer to drive yourselves.~
No mention of photographs. No mention of Charles, or letters, or anything unfinished from two nights ago. Just an invitation, formal and warm at once, the kind of thing that could have meant everything or nothing.
"She wants us there," I said, turning the phone toward Noah, who read it over my shoulder, his jaw tightening slightly at the corner.
"She does this," he said. "Summons people to
