A few days later, Zoey found Aunt Flory kneeling on the floor in the living room, sorting through boxes of old books. Verna, shrouded in a veil of smoke, sat on the couch, observing. A stepladder stood in the hallway beneath the trap door to the attic.
"Thank heavens you're here," Verna said, blowing two wispy trails out her nostrils. "Take these boxes into the attic for your aunt. She shouldn't be climbing ladders."
"Good Lord, Verna, it's only a few steps," Aunt Flory said. "I wouldn't have managed around here all these years if I was afraid of a little ladder. I need to find a place for these books," she explained to Zoey. "Celeste's shelves are overflowing. It looks like a library in her room."
"I'm happy to help," Zoey said, picking up one of the boxes. 'Giving her a hand would hel
