Chapter 6: A Flattering Portrait

My aunt's portrait improved when she stopped smiling at it.

That was the first thing she said after her feet disappeared into the dining room floor.

She still held the frame in both hands.

Inside it, her own face looked out from beneath an enormous feathered hat.

The original portrait had shown a distant relative with an expensive expression.

Elaine had acquired the expression along with the frame.

"Put it back," I told her.

"The light is dreadful."

"Your feet are in the floor."

She looked down.

For a moment she couldn't speak at all.

I put my soup aside and went to her.

I was afraid the wood would close over her ankles before I reached her.

It hadn't moved beyond the tops of her shoes.

The house was keeping what she'd taken with its taker.

"It's not broken," I said.

"We can put it back."

Rupert rose from his seat and stared at the painting.

"She's always liked that hat," he said.

"Get the guest towel," I told him.

"Why?"

"Because it's on the upstairs carpet and you're still able to use the stairs."

He went.

I wanted something beneath the frame before my aunt dropped it.

An unbroken return had freed Rupert.

A broken frame would leave her bound until dawn.

I wasn't going to test the difference because she refused to stop discussing the lighting.

Pippa came beside me and held the lower edge.

The paint inside stirred beneath her fingers.

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