And so it turned out to be. She drove, somewhat surprisingly, a very sporty Jeep which was full of sewing paraphernalia. Her sewing machine, an ironing board, various ironing objects that Jane believed were called "hams," boxes of thread and fabric, pins and bias tape, envelopes full of tissue pattern pieces, and a lot of assorted items Jane couldn't begin to identify. There was also the enormous box containing the wedding dress and three smaller boxes housing the partially completed bridesmaids' apparel. "I'm so glad you're here, Mrs. Crossthwait!" Jane said.

“What's that, dear?”

Jane repeated herself, shouting a bit. "We'll help you get this all to your room. I'll have the handyman take your sewing machine when he finishes another job.”

Mrs. Crossthwait was one of those people with round, plump faces that didn't quite match her tiny little body. Her hands were big-knuckled but still agile and she appeared to be bustling even when standing perfectly still. She flung up the back door of the vehicle and started loading Jane and Shelley down with boxes and small cases of tools and materials.

“I don't like the looks of this place," Mrs. Crossthwait said.

“I'm sorry about that," Jane said. "But we've given you an excellent room to work in. Lots of light and space and a good sturdy sewing table right by a window.”

They started toward the house. "It's not that," Mrs. Crossthwait said. "It's a bad place. A bad aura. Wicked things have happened here and will happen again.”

Shelley's intolerance of auras amounted to near obsession.

“Well, it better happen pretty soon because the house is being torn down in a couple months," she said briskly. "Come along, Mrs. Crossthwait. I'm so eager to see the dresses."

“Nice enough girls they are, the bridesmaids," Mrs. Crossthwait mumbled, puffing as she tried to keep up with the younger women. "Hope nothing happens to them.”