68

Of all the houses that Amity had been inside, she liked Duke Pellafino's place better than any other except the bungalow in which she and her father lived. The furniture wasn't dirty or tattered or anything, but it was all comfortable and looked lived-in, so you didn't have to be afraid of putting your feet up.

The hotelman had shelves and shelves of books and a collection of bronze dogs, and there were lots of photographs of the real dogs that had been his companions. In every room was what appeared to be a brand-new dog bed, as if he must be getting ready to bring a puppy into his life after his heart healed from his most recent loss.

Instead of a table and chairs and sideboard, the dining room contained nothing but a black-lacquered Steinway and a bench and a dog bed. Since Duke never married and lived alone, Amity supposed he must be the one who played the piano just for himself and his pooch. That was a little sad, but also nice, and it was funny to imagine those big hands finding any kind of music in a piano.

Because Duke had said they should make themselves at home, and because they were supposed to powwow over breakfast when he arrived from work, she and Daddy were in the kitchen. She set the table, and her father cracked eggs into a bowl for omelets, and she grated cheese, and he chopped up a green pepper, and during everything they did, they kept glancing at each other to be sure that they were both still here. He asked her if she was all right, and she said she was, and then she asked him if he was all right, and he said, "Yeah, sure." But she was thinking—and he probably was, too—that maybe nothing would ever be all right again.

Repeatedly, she looked at the windows, expecting to see another Good Boy capering on the patio or a bug-form robot clambering over the ivy-covered wall between properties. If there were a trillion times a gajillion worlds, all somehow existing side by side or even in the same place but invisible to one another, you had to wonder if sometimes things leaked from one universe to others.

The key to everything lay on the counter near the sink. After Earth 1.77, Amity doubted that her father would ever agree to use the thing again. Somewhere a version of Michelle was alone and in need of them, just as they were in need of her, but between them and her were monsters, really and truly.