It had been forty-five years since Annabelle Doll had last seen Auntie Sarah. And forty-five years is a very long time, especially for an eight-year-old girl.
The dollhouse, where Annabelle lived with her family, hadn't changed much over the years. True, tiny things had been added or broken or lost. A rug that had lain on the floor under the dollhouse had been taken away and never replaced. Panes of glass had fallen out of some of the windows in the dollhouse, and the wallpaper in the kitchen had been painted over. But those were the small changes.
The Dolls themselves had remained the same, as well. Their China skin was a bit grayer, and their clothes were fit more frayed, but otherwise they looked almost the same as they had the bay Auntie Sarah was lost. In fact, the Dolls looked very much the same as the day they first arrived at 26 Wetherby Lane. However, they had once seen a family of eight (if you included, as the Dolls did, the children's nanny as a member of the family), and now they where a family of seven.
Outside the dollhouse, in Kate's room and beyond, everything changed. Little girls grey up and had their own, people left the house and went to work or on vacations. History was made. Things happened. But inside the dollhouse, not much happened, as far as Annabelle was concerned. The only improvement event in her entire, one-hundred-year old life was Auntie Sarah had disappeared.
But today, the second most important event had occurred: Annabelle had found something that had belonged to Auntie Sarah. No one knew she had found it. Not late palmer. Not any of the dolls. And keeping a secret in a house like Annabelle's was awfully hard. It might even be impossible, Annabelle though, except for the fact that there was no one with whom Annabelle wanted to share a secret.
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Note: I am reading this book in real life and I love it!
