Will was wrong. Sonny's not back to mild at all. There's still anger behind those eyes. As someone who insists on being the only one he can be completely honest with, Will doesn't even try to pretend he's not excited.

"You're trying to piss me off."

"No, that's just a bonus." Sonny eases back, picking up the chip basket and offering it to Will, "You wanna have this out right now?"

Sulking, Will takes a chip. "Maybe later. Getting pissed just kills my appetite. Anyhow," Will shrugs, biting the chip. "You don't want to go by my grandma's today. She's visiting with family."

"Then I'll just stop by later in the week. Already have the kitchen counters installed. Chad helped me out, more or less, with the wall units just yesterday. SHould be finished in a week or two."

"Congratulations." Will wants to stew some more, and knows by Sonny's amused expression he knows it. "You been back to that room?"

"Yeah, I have." He'd had to take a good shot of whiskey first, before he'd even considered it, but he had gone back inside. "Didn't pass out this time, but definitely had a bad panic attack. Which really isn't like me at all. I found out about more of the DiMera/Horton family history too, but there's still a bunch of blanks. Maybe you can fill them in."

"You're talking about Alice Grayson."

"Yep. How much do you--was." Sonny cuts himself off because Will's attention has turned back towards Neil, who brought out their food. Sonny reminds himself as they partake in casual conversation about their food, that food takes a lot longer in small towns.

"How much do you know about her?" Sonny asks, once they're alone.

Will picks up a taco, bringing it up to his lips. He sighs deeply as he swallows. "Neil Hultgren. He's an angel in the kitchen. Try yours." he orders, then leans over to take a sample for himself.

"It's awesome. Best meal I've had since microwaved eggs."

Will smiles at him, a long, slow one that settles in Sonny's gut, before they go back to eating. "I only know stories that were passed down in my family. Nobody really knows. Alice, she was the help in the mansion. Some of the richer families, they hired people from the lower class ones to keep house for them. The story goes that Thomas Horton came home from Rosalind Franklin and fell in love with her. Then they eloped. They had to, because they'd never have approved. His, nor hers."

Will breaks off another chip, nibbling on it as he studies Sonny. "Mixing families is generally frowned upon. He moved her into the mansion shortly after, and that was frowned on too. People say Adelaide Horton was quite the hard ass, proud and strict. People started counting, but that baby didn't come until ten months later."

"That means the room upstairs had to have been the nursery. Or a makeshift one, where they kept the baby."

"Most likely. They had a nurse. She married someone in Alice's family much later. Most of the stories about the mansion came from her. A couple days before the new year, Tom was away in Chicago on business. He came back to find Alice missing. They said she'd run of with a family friend of the Grayson's she'd been having an affair with. The nurse, her name was...Henderson. And she was pretty clear Alice never would've left Tom or the baby. She said something terrible had to have happened, and even blamed herself because she had left to meet her boyfriend by the river the night Alice vanished."

A dead woman on the bed in a freezing cold room, Sonny thinks, as the tortilla from his enchilada sticks in his throat. He picks up his margarita, taking a heavy drink. "Did they even look for her?"

"Her whole family looked everywhere. It's said you could find Tom at that river all the way up until the day he died. When he wasn't there, he was in town to find some trace of where she could be. But he never did, and as a result didn't live long after. With him dead, and the step brother Adelaide favored more, also dead, Adelaide took the baby to Alice's parents. Jesus, Sonny, are you okay? You're not looking so good."

"I don't feel so good either. Keep going."

This time, when Will takes yet another chip, he dips it in the salsa, handing it to Sonny. Grandma's right, Will thinks, this guy doesn't eat nearly enough.

"The baby was my grandma's father. The Hortons/DiMera's shunned him, calling him a bastard child and had none of the bloodline in him. They brought him to the Graysons with the baby clothes he was wearing, and a small bag of his toys. Only thing he had from the DiMera mansion was the hourglass necklace Henderson had given him, because it had belonged to Alice."

Sonny immediately shoots out a hand to place over Will's, "Does that necklace still exist?"

"It was handed down, person to person. My grandma Marlena gave it to me when I turned 18. Why?"

"Bronze hourglass necklace, hanging from a small chain."

Color stains Will's cheeks, "How the hell do you know what it looks like?"

"I saw it." The chill runs down Sonny's spine. "On the dresser in the bedroom. It was probably hers. A vacant room," He continues. "With disappearing furniture. The room where Abi saw a dead woman lying on the bed. They murdered her, didn't they?"

The way Sonny says that, so harsh and flat makes Will sick to his stomach. "That's exactly what people are saying. People in my family."

"In the makeshift nursery."

"I have no idea. You're starting to really freak me out, Sonny."

"I'm scaring you?" Sonny rubs a hand over his face. "Well, now I know who the ghost is. Poor Alice, wandering the halls, waiting for Tom to come back."

"But if she died in the mansion, who murdered her?"

"Maybe that's my job to figure out. So she can, you know...be put to rest."

He's not so pale now, Will thinks. His face hardened. That single minded determination. "Why does it have to be you?"

"Why not? It was probably one of the Horton/DiMeras. Mother, father, stepbrother. Then they buried her somewhere and claimed she took off. I need to know more about her."

"I'm pretty sure you will. You've got quite a stubborn streak in you. Don't know what about it is so appealing. Talk to my grandma Marlena. She'll either know more, or know somebody that does."

Will pushes his empty plate back. "Now you can buy us some coffee."

"What about dessert?"

"Not enough room." Will trails a fingertip over the back of Sonny's hand, and just for the hell of it, rubs the side of his foot against Sonny's leg.

"How's your self-control?" he asks.

"I have a feeling it's about to be tested."

It's almost dark when he gets back to the mansion. The trunk and the backseat are loaded with stuff he'd found in antique shops. But the real jackpot of the day was the cabinet he found, and practically had to beg and even bribe them to deliver the next day.

He carries what he can on the first trip, and when he gets inside, sets it all down in the sitting room.

He closes the door behind him, standing very still.

"Alice." He says her name, listens to how it echoes throughout the house. And waits.

But there's no blast of cold air, no sudden shift in the quiet.

And yet, as he stands at the bottom of the stairs, he still can't explain how he just knows he's not alone.