An old diary is given to the new owners of a house in Cambria, California. Designed by famous architect Julia Morgan, it has some oddities - including a spiral staircase in the backyard, leading to nowhere. What they discover involves old Welsh magi...
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"So, that's where the teacup came from. I'd wondered about that," said Anne.
"I wonder about all this place's weird odds and ends," I confessed, and she made her 'sour face.' "Don't look at me like that! They have a...comforting charm to them, it's true." I hoped my honesty could defuse the odd rift that had opened up since the lightning strike. She smiled.
"I'm not surprised that they are Bertha's handiwork. It makes sense that the cup is filled with her artistic warmth and humanity."
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"All right, that's all the unsettling creepiness I can stand in 24 hours. Please, let's call it a night." I looked at Annie, the love of my life, as she reluctantly closed Bertha's diary.
"Lils, there's something going on here – and not just this house. It's as if all of Cambria is holding its breath. It's another puzzle, another mystery. What happened today was..."
"...was what happened today," I said, kneeling in front of her and taking her hands. "Whatever is going to happen, if anything happens, promise me we'll face it together, all right? No more secrets, not this time. All cards on the table, okay? I promise, if you will. We both have cell phones. No risky actions without at least a message. Promise me."
She drew me close, nodded, and kissed me. I would have been happy with a simple 'I promise.' But what followed convinced me more than words ever could. (Trust me on this one.)
