Clara stepped up first, shaking Sheila’s hand like she was trying to prove she wasn’t rattled. “Thanks, Sheila. I’m Clara March, and this is Amelia Foster.”
Sheila’s smile widened, warm but a little too polished. “Lovely to meet you both. Let’s get you settled. Your bags will be brought to your rooms.” She caught their glances back at the SUV, where their stuff was still stashed. “For now, follow me. Mr. Jameson wants to meet you in his office.”
Millie shot Clara a quick look, her stomach doing a nervous flip. Clara’s tight nod said she felt it too—this place was weird, and they were already in too deep.
They followed Sheila toward the massive house, its huge windows catching the sunlight and throwing long shadows across the too-perfect lawn. It looked like something out of a magazine,
