by Nathan Roden
“I’m not sure what you’re getting at, but I’m not rubbing on anybody. What kind of—?“
Q and I laughed.
“She’s not from around here, Q,” I said, wiping my eyes.
“I’m sorry, Holly,” Q said. “My point is, I’ve already been forced to change my plans for the castle. It’s a safe bet that many people that will be keeping a close eye on our operation.”
“So, what is the trouble?” Holly asked. “Begging your pardon, Mr. Lynchburg, but I fail to see a better option for running your tours—straight away and from day number one.”
Q leaned against the desk and crossed his arms.
“Nor do I, Holly. What I need to determine, is the likelihood that you will change your mind. You’ve just arrived in America. You have had many emotional events of late, and you have my sympathies. But the cold fact remains, that I have to know that we have a consistent team in place—at least until we get the place up and running and we’re not under so much scrutiny.”
“So you’re wanting me to swear on a Bible, Mr. Lynchburg? Or sign a contract in blood? Is that it?” Holly asked.
I stood up.
“Why are you doing this, Q?”
“You’ve seen what we’re up against here, Wylie,” Q said. “Money can’t do everything, and sometimes money makes it harder to do things. If you think this city government, the chamber of commerce, and certain other bitter personalities don’t want to me out of town, then you haven’t been paying attention.”
“I know,” I said. “But that doesn’t change the fact that Holly is here. The perfect solution is here in your lap, Q. What else would you do?”
“Well, I did have a meeting with Elvis Rushmore three nights ago,” Q said.
“Elvis Rushmore? You lost me. You met with Elvis about what?” I asked.
“Elvis found out that I was going commercial with the castle. He had an idea for a partnership that could work out for both of us.”
I rolled my head back and squeezed my eyes shut.
“So, why are we having this discussion, Mr. Lynchburg?” Holly said, standing, “It sounds like you’ve made other plans.”
Q straightened up and raised his hands in submission.
“That’s not what I’m saying at all.”
“Then why did you bring it up, Q?” I asked.
“Who is this Elvis and why is he more qualified than I am?” Holly asked.
“What does he know about a Scottish castle?”
“Elvis Rushmore is the owner of the Black Velvet Elvis Tattoo Parlor and Black Velvet Elvis Haunted Ghost Tours,“ Q said.
“It’s actually called Black Velvet Elvis Haunted Midnight Tours,” I corrected.
“Well, it’s not like you could have haunted tours without ghosts, Wylie.” Q said.
Holly began to pace the floor.
“Oh, I see how it is now,” she said, flailing her arms. “It’s not entertaining enough to offer the people a glance through the window into the past. How many of your people have seen the world that existed hundreds of years before your country was even born? This castle stood while generations came and went— it stood fast in the presence of colorful characters who lived and died—people who laughed and cried and suffered. No, it’s better to turn the place into a Freak Show—a carnival. So, you’ll be putting in your trick mirrors and your rubber spiders—”
“No. God, no, Holly,” Q said. “I didn’t spend millions of dollars and go to this much trouble to create an amusement park ride. Elvis Rushmore has run a thriving tourist business for several years. He has a number of experienced guides on his payroll right now because of the Halloween season. He just thought that he could help, that’s all.”
“So what do you want to do, Q?” I asked.
Q exhaled heavily. He looked Holly in the eye.
“Do you think you can teach Wylie enough to help you any at all? He’s pretty thick-headed.” He held out his hand.
Holly shook his hand with at least as much vigor as she had earlier.
“I could have told you that,” she said, tossing her head in my direction.
“Training him will cost you extra.”
Twenty
Wylie Westerhouse
Branson, Missouri
My mother was more than a little exasperated that I had canceled my plans to return to Boston. Our phone conversation went about the way that I expected.
“I made several arrangements based on your being here yesterday, Wylie. I canceled a week’s worth of marketing meetings in New York. I moved my office into the basement so that you would have a room and it sits here now full of rented furniture. Jessie planned to come over today—she even ordered an ice cream cake—like she used to do for your birthday. She is not well, you know.”
No doubt about it. I felt lower than an earthworm’s navel.
“I know, Mom. I’m sorry, there’s just no way that I could have foreseen this opportunity,” I said.
I did feel bad. I stood up my own Mother and my Aunt Jessica, and I had no excuse.
“What is so different now, less than twenty-four hours later? Did you buy a lottery ticket on the way to the airport?” she asked.
“I…”
I caught myself just in time.
I was about to say “I met this girl,” when it occurred to me how many times that line has been used. It never, never, never, goes over well,especially with one’s mother. I fell back on an excuse that I knew I would get better mileage from.
“A friend of mine came through at the last minute with a job opportunity. It was sort of a once-in-a-lifetime thing.”
My mother sighed.
“You know that I can’t argue with your need to make a living. Are you sure about this? Do I have them come back and pick up this furniture? I can’t do this twice, Honey.”
“I’m sure, Mom—as sure as I’ve been in quite a while.”
“So what is it that you’re going to do? Is it something to do with your music?” she asked.
“No, I’m still working at that. This guy that I met—Quentin, he has a lot of money—”
“Oh, Sweetie, you’re not taking advantage of your friends—”
“No, Mom. It’s nothing like that. Quentin had a castle moved here to Branson, and I’m going to be a tour guide,” I said.
“You’re going to be a tour guide in a castle? Oh, Lord. Is this a pizza parlor? Honey, that isn’t a career. That’s the kind of thing that college students do for spending money while they’re studying to become doctors and lawyers. Why don’t you come home and we’ll get you into some classes at the Community College.”
“This is a real castle, Mom. It’s being moved here from Scotland.”
“Moved? From Scotland to Branson?” she asked, “Son, what sort of kooky people have you fallen in with?”
I had to laugh though I knew that wouldn’t make her feel any better.
“Quentin is a little bit different and so is my other new boss, but I think this is going to work out. You know, I think that it would be a good idea for us to start up a line of merchandise. Maybe I’ll get you to work on a t-shirt design.”
“Let me guess,” she said, “Available in your choice of colors, as long as your choice is black.”
“Doesn’t show dirt,” I said in my overblown infomercial voice, “and goes with everything.”
“You do know that I cannot contribute to anything too controversial—”
“Goes with ALL of your favorite shoes! You’ll be the star of Casual Friday when you’re decked out in this stylishly versatile t-shirt underneath your favorite sporty blazer—“
“Shut up, Wylie,”
“Right. Shuttin’ up now.”
“I’m going to pray for you, son,” she said.
“Mom, I insist on it.”
The reconstruction of Castle McIntyre progressed quickly. The reassembly of the massive turret tower was the highlight. A sizable crowd gathered on the day that the upper section went up. Four off-dut
y police officers had to be called in to keep the curious at a distance.
Although I was one of only two full-time employees at the castle, I felt pretty worthless. Holly’s intimate knowledge of “all things Castle McIntyre” fascinated Quentin. They spent hours each day walking the rooms and the grounds of the castle. They shopped for furniture and household items to restore the castle to an authentic state.
Holly’s input was spot-on. The atmosphere of the castle’s interior grew tangibly and kept pace with the construction.
Everywhere except for the turret room.
Quentin questioned Holly about the furnishings in that particular room. He finally backed off for fear of causing a fight.
The castle sported a spectacular entryway into an even more spectacular lower floor. Eight-foot-tall twin suits of armor stood guard inside the front door. A candelabra presided over an impressive period-correct wood table and ornate high-backed chairs. The bedrooms were breathtaking, with enormous four-poster beds that had cost a fortune.
One morning I went looking for Quentin and found him at the top of the staircase of the turret room. He was leaning against one wall, a cup of coffee in his hand.
“Good morning, Wylie,” Q said, “Were you looking for me?”
“There’s another delivery truck driver downstairs looking for your signature,” I said.
“Why didn’t you sign for it?” he asked.
“It’s another one of the ‘over-ten-thousand-dollar’ deliveries, I’m afraid,” I said.
“Oh, that must be the rugs,” he said.
“Rugs? Really? You’re going to let people walk on rugs that cost over ten thousand dollars?” I asked.
“Oh, no. I’m eccentric, but I’m not crazy. The parlor room at the south corner will be ‘no access’, for viewing from the doorway only. We’ll have a few ‘priceless’ pieces in there that will be watched over by high-def security cameras.”
“Okay. So, can I tell the guy you’re on the way, or…”
“I’m coming,” Q said, “I just…do you have any idea why Holly is so insistent about keeping this room like this? I mean, this little table and chairs made the trip across the sea, but they weren’t secured at all. One of the chairs had to have a broken leg repaired, and the little table still wobbles. It’s an inexpensive setup for small children and only about twenty years old. I realize that she might have a psychological attachment to this stuff, and she’s welcome to it—but she insists that it remain in here. I just don’t get it.”
“I know,” I said, “But, you know what? It feels…right—don’t you think? It’s like this stuff belongs here.”
Q shrugged and then sighed.
“Yeah, for some unfathomable reason it does, which makes me doubt my own sanity. They’re installing a floor safe in the room we’ve designated as the office, did you know that?” Q asked.
“Yeah, I saw them wheeling it in yesterday. It must weigh a ton.”
“Can you guess what Holly had me put in the safe until there is a secure mount made for it?” he asked.
Quentin moved his hands to signify a size of about two feet wide by one foot tall.
“A little painting—of a big horse, and a little horse. Can you believe that?
“Wylie? What’s the matter?”
Quentin had Brian McAllen finish one of the corner rooms first. This room became Holly’s apartment. Q made it part of her employment package.
If we had any doubt about whether we were being “spied” on, that question was soon answered.
Within twenty-four hours of the apartment’s completion, we had another visit from the City Manager and Zoning Commissioner. The City Manager wanted no more to do with Brian McAllen. He had brought along two sheriff department deputies. They stood several paces behind the City Manager with their arms crossed. He had chosen two men who spent the majority of their off-duty hours at the gym.
Quentin had foreseen this situation. He explained that Holly was employed in two capacities—as Manager and Night Watchman. The City Representatives turned and left without another word. They were speed-dialing on their phones while they walked to their cars.
I parked in front of the castle one Monday morning. I passed up the breakfast truck and went inside to look for Holly. I was prepared for a stimulating day of following her around. I was also anxious to impress her with my upgraded “assistant tour-guide” skills. I studied over the weekend from the notes I had been taking. My notes referred to the history of Castle McIntyre and its role in the history of Scotland.
I saw the Goldfinger Aston Martin parked nearby. I waved to members of the construction crew. I passed underneath a three-story-high scaffold on my way inside. That superstition thing is only for ladders. I think.
I heard Holly before I saw her. This was not unusual.
She was pacing in front of the office while speaking loudly into her new phone. I kept my distance. She pulled the phone away from her ear and looked at it with a venomous stare. She drew her arm back like she was going to throw the phone into the wall.
Quentin walked in at about the same time that I did.
We looked at each other as if we both hoped that the other was going to defuse the situation.
I bailed him out.
“What’s going on, Holly?”
“It’s your local college. Not even three weeks into the term and they’re telling me I have to wait until January to enroll in any classes. I planned only to take two night courses this term, but they’re saying that they can’t allow it.”
She pulled her hand down. She was still gripping the phone tightly.
“Is that so bad, Holly?” I asked. “The next term is only four months away. Maybe I can be enough help by then that you can enroll full time.”
Holly relaxed a little and collapsed against the wall.
“No, it’s not that bad. It’s just that my parents insisted that I attend University, and… My uncle loved my mother so much that he would have carried me to school under his arm rather than disappoint her. He told me that he would never forgive himself if he let his sister down when it came to my education.”
Quentin gave me a tense smile, nodded, and walked into the office.
I looked at Holly as she stared at the floor, her anger diffused. I was in a rather uncomfortable position but I spoke without thinking.
“What happened to your parents?” I said.
There it was. I had stuck my neck out, naked and vulnerable, but the question was out before I could stop it.
She was surprised, but she looked up at me with a hint of a smile.
“My parents adored each other. They were as much like best friends as they were husband and wife. You don’t see that much, do you?”
I shook my head.
“Their dream, for as long as I can remember, was to own a sailboat. They plotted out sailing trips with their maps spread across the dining room table. This was long before they were able to afford it. The tours went well straight away, and they were able to save up money for the boat. I used to tag along and watch them conduct the tours. They usually did them together. I knew even at a young age that they were very good at it.”
“I believe that they would be very proud if they could see their daughter today,” I said, “She is also an excellent tour guide.”
She slumped against the wall.
“I don’t know why it happened the way it did. I never shared their love of the sea or the sailing. It scared me if you want to know the truth. I was much more interested in guns and hunting. I spent a lot of time with my Uncle Seth. He loved to hunt. I pestered him until he agreed to take me with him on a hunt, instead of me spending the holiday sailing with Mum and Dad. Seth and I had to live with that.”
“What happened?” I asked.
“They just…disappeared,” she said.
“Disappeared?” I asked.
“There was no sign of their boat, no distress call, no…bodies.”
“Oh,” I said. I didn’t know what
else to say.
I was thankful when Quentin reappeared. He walked toward us and held out a piece of paper to Holly.
“There’s a name and number for you to call, preferably within the next half hour.”
He winked at me, turned and left.
Holly looked at the piece of paper and turned it over. There was nothing on the back side. She looked up at me.
“A name and a phone number. What do you suppose this is about?” she asked.
“Quentin doesn’t handle the word ‘no’ very well,” I said. “My guess would be that our Community College has a new student. They may also have a new wing for the library, or a new gym for the basketball team. Give them a call. I’m going to get a biscuit.”
Twenty-one
Holly McFadden
Branson, Missouri
Holly watched the last of the construction crews load their trucks before leaving for the day. Nora and Charlotte stood next to her, and they stared out of the window.
“So, you’ve found no boundaries yet?” Holly asked.
Nora and Charlotte shook their heads.
“None at all, though Father is strict about how far we can go,” Charlotte said.
“No boundaries. Hey, that’s better than what you had before,” Holly said.
“I guess it is,” Nora said. “Though it makes Mother and Father uneasy. We’ve counted about one hundred fifty like us, thus far. It is wonderful being able to move about freely, but we are unsure of the motivations of these strangers. The Atkins family seems to distrust most of their neighbors.”
“I’m not sure what to think about the Atkins family,” Charlotte said. “If they continue to provoke Father, we may find ourselves without any friends at all.”
Nora laughed.
