was overwhelming. Nothing seemed to have a rhyme or reason
to it. Giana’s tastes were too wide and varied. The rooms that
displayed her collections and treasures weren’t organized by
things. There was no room just for rocks or a room for books.
It was all mixed up, all over the place.
Giana was clearly an eclectic curator. The furniture in the
place was like the stuff she collected. A mix of brand new and
expensive, odd one-of-a-kind pieces, and antiques. It felt a
little bit like falling into a museum’s basement, where they
kept all the extra stuff they weren’t currently displaying. Every
room had something in it, even the two spare bedrooms.
“Giana?” Coralyn was about to head upstairs, but she
needed to know that Giana was still okay.
“I’m okay.”
“Okay. The doctor should be here soon. I’m going to watch
for him.”
The spiral staircase that wound up to the second floor like
something out of a movie was right there. It extended from the
foyer. Coralyn only hesitated for a second, her foot on the first
step. She was throwing herself off a precipice there was no
coming back from if she did this.
She climbed. Up, and up and up. She hadn’t seen a single
item of jewellery on the main floor. She was banking that
Giana hadn’t stuffed all her treasures into some safe to rot. She
liked looking at them too much. Was it a pride thing? She
came from old family money. It wasn’t like she had to remind
herself of her accomplishments, of how she’d clawed her way
up from nothing and now could afford all of this. She’d
probably always had some version of it.
Coralyn knew when she’d found Giana’s bedroom. She