We couldn’t finish our measuring without the use of a ladder. So I returned to the supply room and dragged my window-washing ladder back to the library. Before I reached the entrance, however, I noticed some guy ahead of me approaching the door as well.
Frowning, I slowed to a stop.
Who was this?
He wasn’t Mr. Nash or Lewis. He was younger, around my age with dark hair and mirrored sunglasses. When he stepped into the room, I hurried after him, because seriously, who the hell was he?
When he caught sight of Isobel with her back to him as she stood at the study table, studying our “blueprints,” his face lit with a mischievous grin, and he snuck up behind her.
Not sure if I should alert her to his presence, I paused in the doorway to watch him say, “Boo,” just before he tapped her on th
