"Molly, give me your compact," demanded Gina. She held the black-sequined cat-shaped mirror up to the heiroglyphics. "Weird, it's backwards writing for 'i-a-m-p-e-a-r-l'. Oh, I am Pearl!"
Dorothy cried "Let me see!" and then she was silent, thinking.
"What does it mean, Mom," asked Rebecca. Then she turned to the other women and explained "These marks are hidden under all the antique knicknacks. We never knew why Pearl carved her name everywhere. She must have done it when she was a kid."
"But these tv trays are from the 1950s, along with half the televisions in this house!" said Gina. "Didn't Pearl die in the late 1800s, along with her Native American lover?"
"It wasn't Pearl." said Dorothy. "I think I've finally got it. Oh I wish Nate were here. He'd love this!" And she proceeded to explain what she'd just deduced. Pearl was impersonating Lily. Pearl had walked alone in the house all those years, carving her true identity in secret. Somehow it was Lily who'd died, not Pearl. Pearl had chosen to masquerade as Lily.
"She kept that guilt and grief all to herself, alone, poor thing!" said Molly. "No wonder this house needed a ceremony!" With renewed vigor, the four women swept out the grime upstairs, preparing the way for building contractors to replaster and paint.