by Nathan Roden
Violet smiled and shook her head.
“Porter, dear Porter,” she said. “Grady has some growing up yet to do. But don’t you worry yourself. Tammy Fay and you will have more than enough grand-babies to fill your laps—but not with this young lady.”
Her eyes flicked toward me. I think. I’m pretty sure. Or maybe she has allergies. I don’t know.
“Who Grady decides to fall in love with is his choice, Mother—”
“Porter, Porter. You’ve always been inclined to speak whether you had anything to say or not—such a stubborn boy. Did you know that we lost two children before you finally survived my remarkably toxic interior?”
Porter shook his head.
“So many doctors begged us not to try again,” Violet said. “While you made sure that there would be no others to compete for our affection. Eight and a half months, and there you came—crashing down my birth canal—tearing up everything in your path. Why, all of my woman parts were—”
“I get your point, Mother.”
“I cannot stay, my son,” Violet said. “But your time will come—as mine has, and your father’s will—and we’ll all be together again. I want to leave you with some words that will serve you well, my love.”
“Yes, Mother?”
“Porter, stop being an ass.”
I suck as a Security Guard.
I looked on while Herbert and Porter Plimpton bid farewell to Violet.
I was caught totally off guard when I looked through the doorway into the parlor and saw Grady Plimpton sneaking up behind Holly. He reached around her and put his hands over her eyes.
“There’s my little English Muff…….in—”
Grady’s grandmother was no longer present, but the entire McIntyre family was.
Holly screamed and jumped away from Grady.
Grady stumbled, and his eyes crossed. He looked left and right with shock on his face.
“Woahhh,” he said.
He looked at Holly.
“What was that? Who are these…?”
He walked toward Holly, who had backed against a wall.
“Don’t touch me, Grady!” Holly said.
“Don’t touch you?” Grady squealed. “Who do you think you’re—?”
I stepped in front of Grady, one fist in the ready position.
“Get out of my way, Loser,” he growled.
His head snapped back.
I didn’t do it.
“Hey! What the—?”
Grady spun his head around to see who had him by the hair.
“Dad?”
“We’re going home, Grady,” Porter said.
“We’re not going anywhere until I—”
“That’s where you’re mistaken, young man,” Porter said. He continued to hold Grady by the hair.
“Today marks the first day of your growing up and acting your age.”
He turned Grady around—by the hair.
“Lesson number one,” Porter said, “is that you will leave these two alone. Understand?”
“You can’t—”
Porter pulled a little harder on Grady’s hair.
“Oh, but there are so many things that I can do—things like revoking your allowance. It is difficult for me to picture you as a happy poor person.”
“But—”
“Keep talking, Son. Do you want to keep the keys to that big pickup truck that you’re so fond of?”
Grady was smart enough to know that it was time to cut his losses. He walked away with his head down. Porter followed him for a few steps before he let go of Grady’s hair.
Porter took up station behind his father’s wheelchair. He turned the chair toward the door.
Mr. Plimpton reached up and patted his son’s hand.
Porter paused in the doorway to let Quentin through.
“Come back anytime,” Quentin said.
“Quentin,” Porter said.
He took a business card from his pocket and held it out.
“You’ll want to give this fellow a call.”
Quentin’s eyes narrowed.
“What are you playing at now, Porter?”
“He’ll be expecting your call,” Porter said. “He’ll need some information from you to draw up the request for a variance.”
“What kind of variance?” Quentin asked.
“A variance that establishes this castle as a code-compliant family residence. You don’t mind becoming a member of our Historic Architectural Society—do you?”
“Do the meetings involve red-hooded robes and goat’s blood?” Quentin smirked.
Porter smiled.
I saw it myself. I’ll testify if I need to.
“You needn’t worry,” Porter said. “Every variance that this man has ever submitted has been approved.”
“His family must be proud,” Quentin said.
“You could ask them. They live in the capital—in the Governor’s Mansion.”
“Thank you, Porter,” Q said.
Porter waved and resumed his position behind his father’s chair.
Mr. Plimpton was beaming.
Forty-one
Wylie Westerhouse
Branson, Missouri
“Wylie.”
“I’m up,” I said, opening one eye.
“You got me?” Duncan asked.
“Yeah. I’ve still got you.”
This was our new morning ritual—checking to see if I was still in contact. Holly was right. It did work like a battery. Duncan didn’t fade on me as quickly as he did a few days ago.
“Are you coming to the castle today?” I asked.
“Yeah. I hate that Toby has to stay by himself, though.”
“Easy fix. We’ll bring him,” I said.
“You can do that?” Duncan asked.
I had to think about it for a second.
“You know what? I keep forgetting that I’m supposed to start a new job in less than three weeks. It’s funny how you mix a few ghosts into your life and you forget the other little details. Maybe Toby will behave better than he did the last time I took him. I can always bring him home.”
“Why are you leaving?” Duncan asked. “What’s not to like about working there? You don’t have to worry about Bruiser anymore.”
“It’s a little complicated,” I said.
“Draw me some pictures with stick figures— something simple like that,” Duncan said. “I’ll grunt one time if I understand.”
“And what if you don’t?”
“I don’t know. I’ll poop in the floor. How’s that?”
“Perfect.”
“Holly and I have this little personality clash, that’s all,” I said. “It happens all the time. No big deal.”
“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard,” Duncan said.
“Well, I’m not the one that got all of the brains.”
“I wasn’t going to say that, but since you did—”
“Furball!”
Holly squealed when she saw Toby.
She ran right past me to hug him. It’s not like I’m jealous of a dog. I’m just sayin’.
Charlotte put down the Playstation controller and came to join us.
Holly jumped up.
“You have to ‘pause’ the game, Charlotte, or you’ll—Ahhhh! You died again,” Holly said.
“That seems to bother you more than it does me,” Charlotte said.
“You’re playing Tomb Raider?” I asked.
“I’m not certain that I’m playing, yet,” Charlotte said. “Thus far Holly has only taught me how to be murdered.”
“If I remember correctly,” I said, “The next lesson is the one where you throw the controller against the wall.”
“What does that do?” Charlotte asked.
“What that does is get Mr. Westerhouse’s nose twisted,” Holly said.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I said. “Is Quentin here?”
Holly took a step closer and whispered,
“He’s in hi
s office. Knock first.”
“Why?” I said.
“You’ll see,” she said.
I knocked on the office door, and Q opened the door a little. He let me in and closed the door.
Okay. I get it now.
Q had his computer putting out a display on two large monitors. Dallas, Elizabeth, Arabella, and Nora were watching an infinite slide show of prints that had pictures of two horses. They were searching for a replacement.
Arabella stretched her arms wide and crossed the room to look out of the picture window.
“It’s a needle in a haystack,” Quentin said. “The problem is that the print must be an exact replica, otherwise, it could just make matters worse.”
“Yeah,” I said.
“Good luck.”
“Mr. Lynchburg?” Elizabeth said.
“Yes?” Q said.
“It would be wise if we took a break from this search. These moving images are making me dizzy.”
“Of course,” Q said.
“Please see to your sister, Nora,” Elizabeth said.
“Yes, Ma’am,” Nora said.
“I’m sure he’s fine, Arabella,” Elizabeth said.
Arabella turned and smiled.
Quentin and I exchanged a glance.
No word from David.
Forty-two
Holly McFadden
Branson, Missouri
Nora entered Holly’s apartment to the sound of cheers.
Charlotte and Holly attempted a high-five. Charlotte and Duncan achieved one.
“Nora!” Charlotte squealed, “I’m level two and I didn’t die!”
Nora smiled.
“How do I look at the treasure map, Holly?” Charlotte asked. “I’m ready to go some more.”
“I don’t know,” Holly said. “I’ve never made it that far.”
“Having any luck?” Duncan whispered.
It took Nora a few seconds to figure out that Duncan was talking to her.
“Excuse me?” she said, nervously.
Duncan moved his head a couple of times, motioning them away from Holly and Charlotte.
“Sorry,” Duncan said. “I was curious. I peeked through the window. Any luck finding the picture?”
“No,” Nora said. “Who would have thought there would be so many?”
“That’s the internet for you,” Duncan said. “There’s too many of everything.”
Nora nodded.
“I haven’t thanked you yet, Nora,” Duncan said.
“For what?” Nora said.
“For staying with me,” Duncan said. “When I was…at the last. How did you find me?”
“I don’t know,” Nora said. “I had been arguing with Father over the same tired old thing. That night, I was overcome with such an incredible sadness that I was unable to sleep. I climbed to the top of the turret, lit a candle, and I so wanted to be able to write in my diary—or, at least, to read from it. But I had never been able to move anything—anything at all. Yet still I tried.
“I kept my diary behind a loose stone in the wall. That night when I put my fingers against the stone, I could feel it. I pulled the stone free and clutched my diary and…that was the last thing I remembered, until days later when I awoke to the sound of Father’s sobbing.”
A single tear appeared on Nora’s cheek.
“I knew you,” she said. “I knew your face and your voice. But no one else believed me.”
Duncan began to get a little choked up.
“I believe you, for sure,” he said. “And I think the others do, too.”
Wylie, Quentin, Dallas and Elizabeth entered the room. Duncan saw that Elizabeth had a fist full of Dallas’s shirt. She was directing him toward Charlotte and away from Nora. Arabella trailed in behind them.
“I thought you were an angel,” Duncan said.
“You did?” Nora asked.
Duncan nodded.
He smiled.
“I still do.”
Nora smiled.
“Have you ever seen the downtown lights in the evening?” Duncan asked.
Nora shook her head.
“I found this spot,” Duncan said. “A hilltop where the view is spectacular. Would you like see it? It’s not far.”
“Do you mean, right now?”
“No,” Duncan said. “Later—at sunset. That’s when the view is the best.”
“How….how old are you, Duncan?”
“Fif—well, practically sixteen,” Duncan said. “Unless you count actual years—that would make me twenty-five.”
Nora smiled and her eyes flicked toward her Father.
“Why not split the difference?” Nora said. “That would make you twenty. I mean, in case someone was to ask. I would love to go for a walk with you.”
“Excellent,” Duncan said. “It’s a date then. Say, I need to go check on Toby. You want to come?”
“I’ll be right there. I…have something to do that will just take a moment.”
“Mother,” Nora said, “Could I speak to you?”
Nora whispered into Elizabeth’s ear. Elizabeth’s eyes grew wider and wider and a broad grin grew across her face. It matched the one on Nora’s face.
Elizabeth slipped wordlessly through the room and whispered into Charlotte’s ear. Soon the three of them gathered in the corner of the room.
Holly jumped forward when she felt something in the small of her back. She twisted around to see a small pillow behind her, held there by Charlotte’s hands.
Behind Charlotte, Elizabeth had her hands on Charlotte’s shoulders. Nora stood behind her mother with her hands on Elizabeth’s shoulders.
“What in the world is this about?” Holly said.
Nora pointed.
“You should watch where you’re going.”
Holly surged ahead, being steered slightly to her right, and then full speed ahead.
“Whaaa? Look out!”
Forty-three
Wylie Westerhouse
Branson, Missouri
I heard the yelling, but it didn’t register. I assumed that it had to do with Tomb Raider.
I looked away from Quentin just in time to see Holly being propelled toward me. Charlotte, Elizabeth, and Nora were pushing her.
By the time I realized what was happening I couldn’t get out of the way. I believe that was intentional.
Charlotte jumped out of the way at the last second and put a pillow under my head.
Holly crashed to the floor on top of me. We were both unable to breathe for a second. Then we both laughed.
Neither of us moved. We had never been this close.
“Are you going to bite me?” I asked.
“Why?” Holly said, “Do you taste good?”
I pulled her lips into mine, and for the next fourteen seconds—
I went to heaven.
“Toby is—” Duncan walked into the room. “Wow. Toby is—Wow. Okay. Toby is okay.”
“Ahem,” Elizabeth said. “Young people, I have been spared the task of having certain discussions with my girls for many, many years. I am certainly not prepared to have those discussions today.”
Quentin helped Holly to her feet and then did the same for me.
“Are you aware that you are wearing a rather stupid-looking grin, young Mr. Westerhouse?” Q asked.
“That would not surprise me at all,” I said.
“Congratulations,” Q said. “Again.”
“Again?” I said.
“This was inevitable, whether you knew about it or not.”
“Come—” the little man said. He was bent over and heaving. “Come quick.”
I didn’t recognize Dougie Day because of the way he was dressed—like a European gentleman of centuries past.
Dougie didn’t wait for an explanation. He turned and ran from the building.
Those that were able to follow him, did.
The rest of us took the stairs. We all arrived outside at almost the same time.
A la
rge man dressed like Dougie walked toward us. It had to be Bruiser Brady.
In his hand, Bruiser held a tattered old rope. And at the end of the rope—
A honey-colored yearling with a white star between her eyes.
“Honey!”
Charlotte let go of her mother’s hand and sprinted.
Bruiser jumped when the filly reared. He dropped the lead. Honey loosed a whinny of purest joy. She landed and Charlotte threw her arms around the filly’s head. In her exuberance, Honey tossed her head and knocked Charlotte backward to the ground.
Duncan jumped to catch her until Nora grabbed his arm.
“They did this for hours on end.”
Charlotte leaped to her feet and threw her arms around Honey’s head again. Honey raised her left leg over Charlotte’s shoulder and pulled her into a hug.
Elizabeth chewed on her finger and wept.
Dallas McIntyre fell to his knees.
When he saw the remnant of the tattered, red-hooded cloak dragging behind the filly’s perfect front leg—he began to sob uncontrollably.
I watched Holly step behind Baron McIntyre and make to put a comforting hand on his shoulder. She jerked her hand back as if she had been shocked.
Shocked is exactly the way she looked.
“Mr. Brady, how did—?” Charlotte said, her voice muffled by the mouthful of mane. “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!”
“It wasn’t—” Bruiser began to say.
“Thank you so much, Mr. Brady,” Elizabeth said.
“Let me finish,” Bruiser said. “It was the Prince that done it.”
“What?” Arabella said, running forward. “What did you say?”
“It was the Prince that got her,” Bruiser said. “He made me come with him—said he would haunt me night and day ‘til I did.”
“Where is he?” Arabella screamed.
