“Sorry I’m late,” she said. Ash startled, flung the walking stick aside in a stupid attempt to dispose of the evidence, and then stood motionless as his beaver hat plummeted toward the earth out of nowhere, glancing off his shoulder before crashing to the floor. It must have looked as though he’d been the target of some sort of lightning bolt from Olympus, only a more fashionable one. She stared at him from the top of the staircase. He decided there was only one way to deal with the situation. Denial. He cast an accusatory glance at the ceiling, then bent to retrieve his hat, dusting it off
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