“How are you feeling?”

I glanced over at my uncle. He was my father’s brother, and I adored him—but that didn’t make any of this easier to swallow.

I wanted to be back home.

I wanted to call Maverick, but the last time I’d been able to sneak away from anybody long enough to do it, he’d refused to take my calls.

I hadn’t bothered trying to call Caitlyn.

She had dropped by the house—two days after the wreck—and then gushed over me.

Something about the fact that she’d waited two days made it easier for me to see the things my mother and father had been trying to tell me.

If it had been her, I would have rushed straight to the hospital.

She hadn’t even called to check on me. I know, because I’d asked the staff and my parents—as strict as they could be, and as much as they were trying to press me into changing my life, they weren’t going to lie to me.

Why should they, when Caitlyn’s natural self was proving to be more alienating than anything else?

“Maya, honey?”

I looked up and met Daniel’s eyes over the tops of my sunglasses. It was hot, and sweat already dampened my short ponytail. “I’m fine, Uncle Daniel. You know, you don’t have to play tour guide. You don’t have to entertain me.”

Mom and Dad had wanted me to get away from Philadelphia for a while—to get settled, they’d said. So I was spending the summer in LA with my uncle. He was sweet, but I didn’t want sweet, or even entertaining right then.

But it wouldn’t help if I spent my summer in my suite, brooding about all the stupid choices I’d made.

“So where are we, anyway?” I asked, tipping my head back to study the building in front of me.

“This, darling, is history.”

Uncle Daniel winked at me, and I rolled my eyes, amused at his flair for drama, despite my apathy.

“History, huh?”

He unlocked a door and I moved to join him, scrunching my nose as dust assailed me—he had to rattle the door to get it unlocked.

“I assume since you have a key, you’re allowed to be here.”

He laughed. “Nah, I thought I’d get my brother pissed off at me and take you on a little breaking and entering tour of old Hollywood.” He looked back at me after he finally managed to get the door unlocked. “Yes, I’m allowed to be here. A client of mine is thinking about buying this old place, but he wanted to see what I thought. Personally…okay…” He coughed into his hand, and I looked back just in time to see him blushing a little. “Okay, I confess. I heard he was interested in buying it, and asked if he’d mind if I took a look. I’ve always wanted to come out here.”

“To see an old…” I looked around, not entirely certain what I was looking at.

“This is a former movie studio—a smaller one, but one of the goddesses of the screen got her start here.” The smile on his face faded away. “Her life also ended here.”

A chill ran up my spine. “What?”

“Sorry. That was dramatic, wasn’t it?” He tucked the key into his pocket and levered the door closed before turning to meet my gaze again. “Florence Wood.”

“I’m sorry.” Clicking my tongue, I said, “Unless it’s somebody like Audrey Hepburn or Elizabeth Taylor, I’m not going to know who you’re talking about.” Then I pursed my lips. “Okay, that’s not true. We can talk the hot guys of Hollywood, then and now. I’ll know some of them.”

“Florence Wood.” He sighed and moved deeper into the large, open area of the main room. “She would have been another Audrey, if she’d lived, I think.”

“So what happened?”

“Love.” He shrugged. Moving over to a dust-layered counter, he put his briefcase down.

“Wow, you’re a boy scout,” I said as he opened the leather case and pulled out two flashlights. “I guess you’ve been planning this field trip. Do we have bologna sandwiches and a cookie to eat after the tour?”

“Smart-ass.” He flicked me on the nose. “Be good and I’ll take you out to lunch someplace where we can gawk at stars.” Then he winked at me. “The hot guys of Hollywood now.”

Laughing, I followed him down one of the narrow halls. “So tell me about this girl…Florence.”

“She was…amazing.” He peered into one room. “Office. She only had a few bit parts, then a few secondary roles, but everybody was talking about how she’d be the next big thing.”

He continued to talk, telling me about the movies she’d been in, and I realized I knew who he was talking about after a few minutes. Both Mom and Dad were classic movie buffs, so I’d been introduced to them early in life. We turned down another hall, and Daniel clapped a hand against my shoulder. “The dressing rooms,” he said, sounding more excited than I’d heard him in a long time.

“You’re like a kid in a candy store.” Shaking my head, I tried to find some of the excitement he felt, but it wasn’t there.

I wasn’t…bored, or apathetic—for once—but the light-hearted exuberance he felt seemed to completely escape me. My heart ached inside my chest, and I couldn’t understand why.

“How did she die?”

“She killed herself.” He opened a door and slid inside, only to re-emerge a few seconds later. A cobweb clung to his hair, and I brushed it aside before we started on to the next room. “She was involved with this guy—another member of the Hollywood elite—Glenn Jackson.”

Uncle Daniel paused, sighing. “He was terribly talented, you know. One of the best. But while Glenn might have been a good-looking guy and a great actor, he was apparently something of a heartbreaker. He left a slew of ladies in his wake. Most of them were fine with his love ‘em and leave ‘em style, but there were some…” His words trailed off, and he sighed. “Florence was one of the worst. When he left her, it destroyed her. She killed herself. And she wasn’t the only tragedy in his world—they seemed to follow him.” He came to a halt in front of a door and shot me a grin. “This is it.”

For some reason, I felt lightheaded. I didn’t know why. My ears popped, the way they would if I’d been on a plane, and my heart began to hammer away in my chest.

I don’t think I should go in there, I thought.

How crazy stupid was that?

As my uncle swept his flashlight around the room, I eased in, keeping my back to the wall.

It was like a sad, lovely dream.

Cobwebs lay thick over everything, but under them I could see an old-fashioned dressing table, the kind that had a full, fussy skirt to go along with it. What looked like makeup still littered the surface, and I found myself drawn closer, despite my uneasiness.

“This is amazing,” Uncle Daniel said behind me.

“Yeah.” I reached out and touched a golden tube, then a brush. The dust was thick under my fingertips, and a cold chill ran down my spine—but for some reason, the brush felt warm under my hand.

I sat down in the chair without thinking.

It creaked ominously, and part of me thought it might be a good idea to not sit in something so old and fragile, but I couldn’t move.

A sharp noise, jangling and discordant, had me jumping.

Uncle Daniel gave me a pained look. “Sorry, sweetheart. A phone call, I gotta take it.”

I nodded and got out of the chair, still looking around. “Should I…”

“Oh, you’re fine. Just don’t touch anything, okay?”

I smiled at him and turned back to the room, still sketching my light around it as he slid outside, partially closing the door.

There was a small desk in the corner, just as feminine and delicate as the dressing table. Moving closer, I darted a look toward the door. I couldn’t hear Daniel’s voice anymore.

There was a small book on the desk—a journal, I realized.

My fingers shook as I reached out to touch it. “Don’t,” I said, grimacing a little because I knew I wouldn’t listen to myself. The thing was so old, it was a miracle it hadn’t fallen to pieces. Instead of listening to my own advice and common sense, I picked the journal up.

It didn’t feel fragile.

It felt warm. Very warm and solid.

I almost dropped it.

But instead, lip caught between my teeth, I eased the cover open.

Florence Wood.

The name was written in delicate script along the first page.

It was her diary.

I went to put it down, feeling like a voyeur.

A door slammed.

Startled, I dropped the diary, and it fell to the floor. Swearing, I went to my knees, searching the floor with the thin beam of the flashlight as I hunted for it. Passing my hand over the floorboards, I muttered to myself. “Don’t touch anything, Maya,” I said. “Good advice.”

Yeah, so why didn’t I take it?

There was a ridge in the floor, and I paused for a second, before feeling my way along the ridge. There was a seam there. “Whoa.”

I saw the diary just as I found the latch.

“Oh, cool,” I murmured.

Even though I knew it was the last thing I should do, I pulled on the latch, and with a groan, dragged up the floorboards to reveal a dark cavern. The opening yawned in the darkness below me.

“Secret room.” I couldn’t help it. I started to grin. “That’s so cool.”

Angling the flashlight, I studied the odd contraption that led down into it. I couldn’t quite call them stairs—they were too short, stilted and steep. It was more like a ladder.

Curiosity tore at me, and I hesitated only a minute before sitting on the lip of the entry and sliding my legs down. I had to put the flashlight down as I tried to find my footing, but I couldn’t quite hold it and still manage the strange grip of the steps.

“I’ll just use my phone,” I muttered. I propped the flashlight so that the end of it was on the diary, giving me a little more light as I started down. With my feet on the floor, I looked around, feeling a weird sort of triumph.

Once down, the flashlight wasn’t giving off much light, so I pulled my phone from my pocket and turned it on. It was brighter than the flashlight, but the beam didn’t penetrate the gloom quite as far, and I found myself inching deeper and deeper into the little room.

It was narrow, the roof low, but like the room overhead, it was elegant and feminine. A pretty chair in a corner, a small bed tucked against the wall. There was a giant stuffed bear on it, and the table next to the bed held a vase. I eased closer. The light from my phone glinted off something on the table and I reached out, picking up the chain.

A delicate golden heart swung from the necklace.

A locket.

“Pretty,” I murmured, blowing some of the dust from it. I sneezed, some of the dust flooding my nose and tickling my throat.

Eyes watering, I started toward the ladder, the necklace still swinging from my hand, the heart swinging against my thigh. I really should get out of there, but I was…fascinated.

Had Florence come down here? Had the necklace been hers? The bear? Had she laid on the bed to rest between takes?

I eased closer to the bed, eying it dubiously. It was rotted through and through, and the quilt was shabby and gray, but I had the weirdest image in my mind—if I closed my eyes, I’d see this room as it should be, as it had been.

Amused by the idea, I did just that.

But when I opened my eyes, nothing had changed.

“Silly girl,” I whispered, shaking my head.

I turned back to the trap door that would lead me back up to the main floor, but before I could start up the stairs, I paused and looked back, remembering the necklace.

I sucked in a breath, gaping at the room.

Brilliant light greeted me.

The bed was covered with a fluffy white comforter, dotted with little purple flowers.

The bear was white, too, with a silly purple bow around its fat neck.

I yelped, surprised. Falling back against the ladder, I clapped a hand over my eyes.

I hit the ladder—hard—and ended up on my ass.

Overhead, I heard something thunder and crash—oh, shit.

The door.

The door had closed—

My phone hit the floor, and the light went out.

Panic choked me and I went to my knees, sweeping my hand around for the phone, but I couldn’t find it.

“Don’t panic,” I said.

Uncle Daniel was just outside the door.

“Don’t panic.”

But I couldn’t help it.

I was about ready to panic like fucking hell, and the longer I went without finding my phone, the worse it got.

I sucked in a breath, not realizing how stupid it was until it was too late. But the dust didn’t choke me.

I smelled…roses.

A shiver raced down my spine. My fingers hit the wall and I braced my back against the wall, slowly standing up. Sweeping out with my hand, I searched for…something.

I didn’t know what.

When my fingers hit the lightswitch, I laughed, almost hysterically. There wouldn’t be any light here.

None.

This place was abandoned—like haunted house, creep park abandoned. Did my uncle know this room was even down here?

But none of that knowledge kept me from flicking the switch.

The light that flooded the room was too bright—and weird.

It buzzed.

I gulped back a breath, my heart slamming so hard I couldn’t even breathe.

“Shit,” I whispered. “Shit.”

The room looked just as it had in that blink before I’d fallen.

There were roses in the vase on that little table by the bed.

The teddy bear with his big, black eyes and that floppy purple bow around his neck. Head spinning, I looked down at the necklace and saw that it glinted soft and gold, no longer dusty and dull from years of neglect.

“Oh, shit. Oh, shit.”

A door opened.

I felt a rush of cold air whisk over me and I spun around, looking up, my uncle’s name already on my lips.

But it wasn’t Daniel.

A man glared down at me.

“What are you doing down there?!” he demanded. He beckoned at me impatiently. “Nobody should be down there.”

I looked behind me, feeling like I was about to go insane. What was going on?

“Come on, come on,” he said impatiently. “She’ll be here soon.”

“Who?” I asked, confused…and a little scared. “And I’m sorry, but where did you come from?”

He looked at me like I had lost my mind. “I don’t think you’re in the position to ask questions here, girl. How did you get down there anyway? That’s Miss Woods’ personal space.”

“Miss…” I clambered up the stairs, staring at him. Oh, man. Was I having some kind of flashback? I’d only ever done cocaine and some weed. Could they give you flashbacks? Had I fallen and hit my head? Was this a nightmare? “What do you mean, Miss Wood?”

He caught my arm and started to drag me unceremoniously across the floor. I couldn’t help but notice how bright and shiny and clean everything looked.

“Would you stop jerking on my arm?” I demanded, trying to twist away from him. Acutely conscious of the necklace now, I palmed it and then slid it into the pocket of my jeans, glaring at the man who was still half-dragging me down the hall.

“Be quiet,” he ordered brusquely.

“I…” Shaking my head, I looked past him, staring at the door.

That was where I saw it:

A wall calendar.

My mouth fell open.

“What?” I whispered.

The calendar read…June.

1962.