“Did you know him?” Ian asked.

Dennick shook his head. “I wasn’t yet born when he passed. My father cared for the family back then. He told me Edward Porter was good and kind man.”

“Porter? I thought his name was Callahan.”

“You’ll have to ask your grandmother about the ins and outs of your family’s history,” Dennick said. “The bath is through that door. You share it with your brother Declan. Clean up after yourselves and we’ll get along fine.”

The door closed behind Dennick and Ian let out a tightly held breath. Three months. That’s how long they were expected to stay. Though Ian hated school, right now he almost wished that it ran over the summer so he and his brothers wouldn’t be stuck here.

He glanced up at the painting above the fireplace, his eyes fixing on the boy’s face. He had to admit, they did look a lot alike. The three younger Quinns had always favored their mother’s more refined features rather than Paddy Quinn’s rugged looks.

The boy was dressed in fancy clothes, a blue jacket and white pants with shiny boots that reached his knees. He held a black stick that looked like a little whip and his eyes appeared to be staring into the distance, as if he hadn’t a care in the world.

Ian glanced nervously around the room, then grabbed the chair from the fancy wood desk and dragged it to the fireplace. He climbed up on it and reached for the painting, smoothing his fingertips over the boy’s face. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected to find, but all at once, there was a connection. It was as if they knew each other, somehow shared the same fears.

His hand trembled and he drew it away, then stumbled down from the chair. His mother used to talk about ghosts and spirits, but he’d never believed in those things. Now, as a chill ran through him, Ian wasn’t sure he’d been right.

A soft knock sounded at the door, startling him out of his thoughts. He spun around in time to see Dec and Marcus slip into the room, dressed in their pajamas. Ian smiled and they both rushed over to him.