Mirabelle's eyes fluttered open at the quiet knock. She quickly sat up, her gaze looking around for a clock though the bright light in the window indicated it was still day. Fixing her hair, she stood up and approached the door. Before opening it, she glanced up the stairs and then around the house--it appeared to be still empty, and worry settled in. Then she pulled the door open and a woman stood before her, her old age the most distinctive thing about her. One guest after another was taking its toll on Mirabelle, but she forced a polite smile. "How can I help you?" she asked.