Julia noticed the smell coming from Maddy’s room. It matched hers in the garden room—stale air, decades of dust, and the scent of the elderly. The whole place needed to be aired out and then sprayed with copious amounts of Lysol. Preferably the scent that reminded Julia of fresh laundry drying on a line or lush, waving lavender fields. She was fairly certain the company made both scents. Perhaps she’d spray them simultaneously.
“There’s someone here to see us,” she said.
“Who?” Maddy asked, glancing past Julia.
Julia turned and started for the corner. No wonder Maddy had wanted this room, though hardly any sunlight had greeted her upon the opening of the door. It couldn’t be seen, and no one would even know it was here unless they came looking.
A great weight settled on her shoulders a
