by Wendy Webb
The trail took me down a hill, and I saw an old, wooden footbridge crossing a small creek. I stood in the center of it, watching the water bubble downstream, a leaf taking the journey now and then. I heard a soft rustling and looked up, just in time to see a doe and two spotted fawns stepping carefully down to the creek for a drink. The doe locked eyes with me—a careful mother with her young—and I held my breath, hoping I wouldn’t scare them away. I mean you no harm, I said in my mind, and somehow, I think she understood. She and her fawns drank from the cool water and then made their way back into the woods again, disappearing as quietly as they had come.
That was my cue to continue my trek, so I crossed the bridge and walked on. The trail was steeper here, twisting and turning as it descended the cliff toward the lake. I scrambled to keep my balance in a few places, wishing I had worn proper hiking shoes instead of the sneakers I had on.
Soon, the trail opened up, leading me out of the woods and onto the rocky beach. I looked behind me, trying to get my bearings. I couldn’t see Cliffside from here. This wasn’t the same stretch of beach I had seen with Nate a few days ago, although I knew if I walked long enough along the shoreline, I’d find it. I just didn’t know which way to go. No matter. The map told me Penny Trail picked up a quarter mile down the beach, and it would take me back to where I started.
The lake was glistening in the midday sun and lapping gently at the rocky shore. I settled onto a large piece of driftwood and stared at the water and the islands in the distance. Lake Superior had a sort of magic, a mythology and a power that was difficult to define, even by the people who lived along its shores. I always felt at peace when I was near this great inland sea, and I let that serenity wash over me, breathing it in on the cool, clear air. It was intoxicating, and I felt calmer than I had in, well, I couldn’t remember how long.
I got the sense, there on the lakeshore, that all was right with the world and I was where I was supposed to be. I had a new job and was living in a beautiful place. The fellows were coming the next day and we were ready for them to arrive. Yes, there was more than a good bit of strangeness going on—the kitchen, the eerie third floor, the tragedy of Miss Penny, and the undercurrent of mystery that ran through it all—but somehow, as I sat gazing out onto this massive body of water, all of that seemed small and very far away.
I pushed myself back up to my feet and strolled down the shoreline a ways until I came to an old, wooden boathouse with a dock stretching out into the water. I had seen a boathouse the other day, but this wasn’t the same one. I looked down the shoreline to see if I could spot the one I had seen, but I noticed I was in a cove, and I could only see the shore for another half mile or so before the cliff blocked the view.
I walked down the dock—the boathouse was closed up tight—and sat down on the end, my feet dangling down toward the crystal-clear water. I was watching the light dance across its surface when a voice startled me out of my daydream.
“Who’s there?”
I turned around to see an old man poking his head around the boathouse door.
“Oh!” I said. “I didn’t know anyone was here.”
“You’re the new director of Cliffside,” he said, opening the door wider and taking a few steps toward me.
“That’s me,” I said, smiling at him. “Eleanor Harper.” But my smile wasn’t returned. His eyes were wary, his look stern.
“You shouldn’t have come here,” he said. His comment hit me like a cold wind, and I scrambled to my feet.
“I’m sorry,” I said, quickly. “I was walking along the trails, and I thought this was still Cliffside property. I’m terribly sorry to intrude.”
I wanted to leave and go back into my enchanted woods, away from this disagreeable old coot, but now he was standing in the middle of the dock between me and the shoreline. I didn’t want to push past him, so I stayed where I was.
He crossed his arms. “Oh, it’s Cliffside property, all right. You haven’t been trespassing.”
“Then, I’m not sure what you mean,” I said, narrowing my eyes at him.
“You shouldn’t have come here,” he repeated. “To this place. To Cliffside.” All at once, he seemed to be larger than he was. More imposing. I wondered if I’d have to jump off the dock to get away from him, but I knew the water was ice cold.
“Well, Penelope Dare asked me to come and hired me as the director, so I’m going to have to disagree with you, there,” I said, my voice rising a bit. Where did he get off?
“And now, if you’ll excuse me, I really have to get back to the house,” I said, taking a few steps forward.
“That’s what I meant, miss,” he said, not moving to let me by. “The house. It’s not a fit place for you to be living. It’s not a fit place for anyone. Those fellows shouldn’t be coming here, neither.”
I really wanted to get away from this man but was now glued to the spot by the intensity of his words.
“Why would you say that?” I croaked out.
He took me by the arm and looked into my eyes. “Because Death himself lives at Cliffside,” he said. “He got Miss Penelope. And he’ll get you, too.”
I wrenched my arm from his grasp. “That’s ridiculous,” I spat back, but even as I said the words, I could feel an icy coldness wrapping itself around me.
“You know I speak the truth,” he said, his milky blue eyes wide. “And you knew it before you came. You could feel him, reaching out for you.”
I thought about the feeling of dread I’d been experiencing for months before coming to Cliffside. Could it be . . . ?
“This house has known nothing but death since it was built,” he went on, speaking more quickly now, his voice low. “So much suffering. Many came, few left. The children, miss. Those innocent little children. He nearly took them all. That kind of thing changes a place. There was so much death here, he took up residence. He stayed when the patients had gone. When Death takes hold, he seeps into the very foundations.”
I pushed my way past him. “I have to go,” I said and hurried down the dock toward shore.
“Death took the Dares,” he called after me.
At this, I stopped and looked back at him. “Yes, they died,” I said, a bit louder than I had intended. “People do. There’s nothing supernatural or strange about it. For Chester and Milly, it was an accident. For Miss Penny . . .” My words trailed off.
“You know it was no accident that took the Dares that day,” he said. “And you know it was no suicide that took Miss Penny. It was Death, wanting them all to pay his price.”
I backed away for a few steps and then turned to go. I had had enough of this old-timer. He obviously had dementia and might be dangerous.
“Why do you think they have a steady stream of people coming here?” he called after me. I began to run. “It’s for him! He always takes somebody! He’ll come for you, too, if you don’t get out while you can!”
I bolted into the woods, my heart beating in my throat. Who was that guy? I wondered if Harriet knew him or if he was a stranger who just happened to be taking shelter in the boathouse.
That had to be it, I said to myself as I scrambled up the hill, glancing back now and then to make sure he wasn’t following me. He was homeless and had dementia or some form of mental illness. He had taken refuge in the boathouse. I hurried up the trail toward the house. I’d alert Harriet and Mr. Baines to the situation, or call the police myself to get that man out of there and into a hospital where he belonged. I didn’t want any of the fellows running into him. He’d scare them half to death with all of that nonsense, just as he had me.
After a mile or so of twisting and turning through the woods, I found my way back to where I had started. I took a deep breath. There was Cliffside, which had already come to seem like home to me. There was the beautiful lawn, undulating gently toward the cliff. And there, in the garden, was Mr. Baines. I was never so glad to see anyone in my life. I hurried over to him. When he saw me coming, he stood up and took off his ga
rdening gloves.
“Hello, Miss Harper,” he said, smiling a broad smile. “Is there something I can do for you?”
My heart was still pounding. I took another deep breath and bent low at the waist.
“What’s the matter, miss?” Mr. Baines said, concern replacing his smile. “You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”
In that moment, I wasn’t sure that I hadn’t.
“I was walking on the trails,” I began.
“Did you come upon the fawns down at the creek?”
I smiled, remembering. “I did see the fawns, and their mother,” I said.
“Two of them this year,” he said, wiping his brow with his glove. “I call them Bessie and Belle. I leave corn at the edge of the woods for the deer in the winter. There’s no hunting on the property, you see, and they take refuge here.”
Corn for the deer. It was such a sweet, ordinary thing, I suddenly felt silly bringing up my strange encounter with the old man. But I had no choice.
“I ended up at the boathouse in the cove, and I ran into the strangest old man.”
He nodded, knowing just whom I was talking about. “You met old Pete.”
So he wasn’t some odd apparition, after all. “You know him? The old man in the boathouse?”
“He’s a fisherman, local. His people have been fishing these waters for generations. Pete’s father and his father before him. They had the old boathouse there even before Cliffside was built. Mr. Dare let them stay on after he developed the property. They’ve never given us any trouble, and in the old days, we’d get fresh fish, right out of the lake.”
“He’s not still fishing . . . ?”
“Oh, no, no, no,” Mr. Baines said. “Not for many years now. He retired when his boys took over the business.”
“So, he has family, then.”
Mr. Baines shook his head. “Not any longer. His sons were killed on the water. The lake took them, God rest their souls. Good boys, they were. Pete’s wife died shortly thereafter. Of a broken heart, or so everyone said.”
And just like that, it became clear. How terrible, losing his whole family. No wonder the man thought Death himself resided here. I’d probably feel the same way, in his place.
“That explains at least some of it.” I squinted at Mr. Baines. “But it seemed like he was . . . well—” I stumbled over my words. “Mr. Baines, is Pete . . . does he have some sort of mental illness?”
Mr. Baines chuckled. “I’ll give you that he might be a bit peculiar,” he said. “But he’s all right in the head. Old Pete’s harmless, Miss Harper.”
I wasn’t convinced. “Well, that’s the thing,” I pressed on. “I’m not so sure he’s harmless. He was very threatening. He scared me just now, he really did.”
“Threatening?” Mr. Baines put a hand on my arm. “What, exactly, did he say?”
“He told me I should never have come to Cliffside,” I said, wincing as I repeated his words. “He said Death himself lives here.”
Mr. Baines was silent for a moment, staring into my eyes. A flash of anger crossed his face, and then it melted into concern. “Death himself? Pete said that?”
“He did,” I said. “And a whole lot of other nonsense about how Death came for Miss Penny and it would come for me, too.”
He let out a long breath, shaking his head. “Oh, Lord.”
“It made me think, I don’t know, that he had dementia or something like it.”
Mr. Baines nodded, gazing toward the woods.
“You said he doesn’t have any family,” I went on. “I’m wondering if we should call the authorities. It seems like he needs medical care. Like he should be in a nursing home.”
He turned his eyes back toward me. “Oh, I don’t know about that,” he said. “It could be he’s just having a particularly bad day. He gets that way around the anniversary of his boys’ passing. I’ll go down and speak to him, see for myself what’s what.”
“I wish you would,” I said. “What he was saying was absolute nonsense, but he really seemed to believe it. The last thing I want is for him to come into contact with one of the fellows and start spouting off about how Death is a resident around here. That’s all we’d need.”
“I’ll go down there straightaway and give him a talking-to,” he said. “Don’t worry, Miss Harper.”
“Thank you,” I said, placing a hand on his arm. “I really appreciate that. Even with the help of you, Harriet, and the rest of the staff, I still feel like I’m flying blind where this group of fellows is concerned because it’s my first time hosting. I really want this to go off without a hitch, for Miss Penny. I want to live up to her trust in me.”
That brought the broad smile back to Mr. Baines’s face. “There’s no doubt about that, Miss Harper. Everyone has the utmost confidence in you. We know you’re just the person to run Cliffside, now that Miss Penny is gone.”
I felt a weight drop off of my shoulders and fall to the ground. I wanted to hug him, but I didn’t know if it was appropriate or not, so I squeezed his arm.
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I said. “I’m going to head back up to the house. Will you let me know later if you were able to talk to Pete and get this straightened out?”
“Of course, ma’am,” he said, clearing his throat. “I’ll head down to the cove right now.”
I turned and made my way across the lawn toward the veranda, the relief evident in my slowing pulse. Pete was just a sad, deluded old man, overcome with grief. That was all.
CHAPTER 13
I awoke to pouring rain. As I lay there, watching it pound against my windowpanes, I groaned aloud. I usually loved the rain, but why today, of all days? The fellows would be here by noon, and I had planned on welcoming them with a small reception on the veranda. I slipped out of bed and padded over to the window. The cloud cover was thick and gray. This wasn’t going to dissipate anytime soon.
Ah, well. We’d just have to move the reception indoors. The best laid plans, as they say.
An hour later, after showering and dressing for the day, I grabbed my notebook and made my way downstairs for breakfast, where I found Harriet’s crew already in full swing. One of the girls was giving the carpets one last vacuum, another was wielding a feather duster, and a third was running a dust mop over the marble floors in the entryway. One last spit and polish before the troops arrived.
I was taking my first sips of coffee when Harriet walked in carrying a plate for me—scrambled eggs, sausage, and broiled tomatoes. “We’re giving the chafing dishes one last scrub,” she said, setting the plate in front of me.
I smiled up at her. “It’s showtime, Harriet.”
“It is indeed,” she said, straightening her apron.
“I imagine we’re as ready as we’re ever going to be.”
She gave me a quick nod. “Shall I move the welcome reception to the winter garden?” she asked.
“Just what I was thinking,” I said, sighing and gazing out the window into the rain. “Why couldn’t it have been a nice day?”
“Mr. Baines will have two of his men waiting under the archways with umbrellas,” she said. “To usher them inside.”
“Oh, perfect,” I said, taking a sip of my coffee and opening my notebook, where I kept my schedule for the coming days. “I see that Charles is picking four of them up at the airport—Cassandra Abbott, Henry Dalton, Diana Cooper, and Brynn Kendrick. They’ll be here at noon. Richard Banks, though, is driving himself.”
“And he’s arriving when?” Harriet asked.
“I’m not sure,” I said, wincing at her. I knew her well enough to know she was not fond of ambiguity. The info packets Miss Penny had sent all of the fellows upon acceptance said they were expected at noon on the day of their arrival, but since this man was driving himself, we really had no idea when he’d show up.
“I probably should have reached out to him and asked,” I said.
She raised her eyebrows. “Well . . .” She didn’t have to finish that st
atement. I’d know better than to leave anything hanging next time.
“I’ll welcome everyone when they arrive,” I said, moving things along. “I’ll be in the entryway about eleven forty-five, just to be sure.”
Harriet blanched and gave me a look as though I had slapped her. “Oh, no, no, Miss Harper,” she said. “That isn’t done!”
I furrowed my brow. “What isn’t done?”
“The director doesn’t usher the fellows into Cliffside,” she said. “That’s for the staff to do. We’ll greet them, show them to their rooms, deal with their luggage, all of that. You’ll meet them at the welcome reception.”
It seemed silly to me—I was the hostess, after all—but I knew Harriet was a stickler for tradition. Things were done a certain way at Cliffside. Richard Banks had already thrown a fly into the soup by driving himself; any other deviation might make Harriet’s head explode.
“Of course,” I said to her, figuring I could make any changes to the almighty routine when I had a few sessions of fellows under my belt, so to speak. I was still the newbie here. “Where should I be when they’re arriving and getting settled, then?”
“Miss Penny always watched from the windows in the director’s office, as did her father before her,” Harriet said. “That way, you can observe them on their way in, get a bit of an impression before meeting them.”
“Sounds good,” I said, taking another sip of coffee. “I’ll do that.”
“I’ll ring for you when they’re assembled in the winter garden,” she said.
“Got it.”
“And I’ll be leaving you to your breakfast now,” Harriet said, turning on her heel. “I have things to take care of for the reception and the lunch.”
I finished up my eggs and sausage, reading over the names of the fellows and their disciplines yet again. I had been doing it for days, familiarizing myself with who they were and what they did, wanting to cement that knowledge in my brain.
