by Amberlee Day
“For pity’s sake, get up!” the older woman croaked. “You’re as bad about sleeping in as you were as a teenager.”
She shut the old door with a loud crack, and Beverly lay back down, hugging the pillow to her. Her room infused with new morning light, she went over her dream—particularly that last part. A smile spread unbidden across her lips, and she pulled the pillow up higher.
She might not allow herself such fantasizing when she was awake, but oh, that was an amazing dream! Would Ned be such a good kisser in real life? She was still sleepy enough to muse that maybe someday she’d find out.
Breakfast at the castle was served in the rooms. They’d put in their order the night before—a fruit, nuts, and yogurt basket. When they were finished eating, there was a knock on the door. It was Hannah, the front desk girl.
“Ned had to go out early,” Hannah told them. “He said he’d meet you later in the library, but to go on down when you’re ready. He’s laid out a bunch of papers and albums that he said you’re welcome to start going through.”
“Wonderful, thank you,” Aunt Affie said, closing the door when the girl left. To Beverly she quipped, “Sounds like your Mr. Sterling is an early riser, and efficient. Doesn’t surprise me.”
“Me neither,” she thought, though for some reason it disappointed her to think he was probably already up and around while she was dreaming about him.
They made their way down to the library where the glass door stood open to greet them. Except for the stacks of folders and albums on the largest table, the place looked undisturbed since their visit last night. Beverly ran her hand lightly along a row of book spines and smiled. Not one book was backward on the shelf, as they had been in her dream.
While Aunt Affie began sorting through the information Ned left, Beverly took the opportunity to explore the bookshelves. Part of her enjoyment inside a new bookstore was dissecting how they were organized, so she began immediately to the left of the door to work her way clockwise around the room. Reading a few of the titles, she decided that whoever had arranged the library had indeed placed them according to topic. This section covered art: art theory, art in the Renaissance, early Impressionists, even several books on how to draw. The next section was architecture, then automobiles and botany. Clearly alphabetical. Castle histories, cultural studies, dance … She wondered if there would be a general fiction section, or if they’d be separated into categories like mysteries, romance, and literary fiction.
Passing a window to move to the next section, something outside caught her eye. Shrubbery blocked much of her view, but she’d seen someone walking along the sidewalk. When they again moved into Beverly’s sight, she drew back in surprise. “Natalia?”
“What was that?” Aunt Affie asked from the table across the room.
“It’s Natalia, the hotel manager from Trenforth. She’s outside.”
“From Trenforth? That’s hours away. What would she be doing all the way here?”
Beverly shook her head. “I don’t know. She said she worked at Demander before taking the Trenforth job, but I can’t imagine that she travels back and forth often.”
“Maybe she still has friends here.”
Aunt Affie made no further comment, likely absorbed in her research, but Beverly drew back near the curtains to make sure she wasn’t seen watching. Natalia walked with quick, short steps, a pretty navy-blue top and beige pants fitted close to her petite figure. She strode along the sidewalk in black heels. A set of keys jingled from her fingers. Beverly watched until Natalia was almost out of sight, but suddenly the woman stopped. She smiled at someone standing just outside Beverly’s range of sight. A man, from the way Natalia reached up like she was touching his face. Who was it? Natalia frowned suddenly, probably at something the man said. She looked around to see if anyone was watching. Beverly flattened herself closer against the wall, just in case. Natalia smiled again at the unseen man in a way that told Beverly they were more than friends. She followed him somewhere around the corner of the house, out of view.
“Darn!”
“What was that?” Aunt Affie asked, distracted.
Too curious to let things go, Beverly quick-stepped to the door. “I’ll be right back,” she said. If Aunt Affie answered, she didn’t hear.
The castle had two entrances on this side of the building: the main hall entrance where the check-in desk was, and another on this opposite end of the building. Gardened-lined sidewalks and decorative trees adorned this exterior, so when Beverly slipped out of the building she was able to keep close to the tall shrubbery in case someone came into view.
She could hear voices ahead: Natalia’s and a deeper voice. An uncomfortable feeling settled into her stomach. Was it Ned? Despite Natalia’s insistence that Ned was single and that she and Ned were not a couple, it could still be true. A secret romance, perhaps kept from his disapproving father. It shouldn’t matter to Beverly, though. She didn’t want Ned’s attention for herself. One romantic dream didn’t mean anything. Well, two romantic dreams. She was just curious, that’s all, and kept reminding herself that as she crept along the narrow path.
Still too far to hear well, Beverly decided she’d better stop creeping around. A nice steady walk would be less suspicious if she was caught. But a few bold strides later, the sound of Natalia quite close and laughing turned Beverly spinning on her heel. The instinct to hide overpowered her, and she dove behind the nearest bush. Unfortunately, it was a thorn-ridden rosebush.
Beverly groaned in pain as the prickles dug into her skin, but had the presence of mind to groan quietly. Lucky she did as Natalia suddenly came along the very path that Beverly had just deserted. The hiding place was a good one; although Beverly could see Natalia, the compactly built woman didn’t appear to notice Beverly at all.
Natalia walked with a lilt in her step that wasn’t there when she first passed the library window, and a smile on her face like the cat who ate the canary.
Or kissed the canary, Beverly thought when Natalia’s hand touched her lips just as she passed Beverly’s hiding spot. Beverly felt her face fall, as well as her little fantasy about Ned. Serves me right.
Natalia traveled all the way along the sidewalk past the garden area. Beverly could still see her when she stopped to unlock a sleek black car and heard a familiar voice stop her. “Natalia!”
Now that was definitely Ned! Natalia looked up in the direction she’d come from—that secluded area that couldn’t be seen from the library. Ned appeared, well-dressed even in casual clothes. He lightly jogged to catch up with her. Beverly’s stomach really pinged her with regret, but she remained hidden and immobile, trying not to make the rose thorns dig in more.
They spoke next to Natalia’s car, but Beverly was much too far away to hear their conversation. If they had indeed just met for a romantic rendezvous in the garden, you wouldn’t know it to look at them now. Natalia’s arms were crossed in front of her; Ned’s hands pushed into his pockets. Whatever they talked about, they both wore serious expressions. There was nodding and smiling before Natalia gave him a brief hug, he helped her in the car, and she drove away.
Ned didn’t stay to watch her drive out of sight, but headed back for the castle door. Beverly held her breath until she heard it open and close again, exhaling in frustration.
Slowly, she began the painful process of disengaging from the rosebush, but it didn’t go easily. If only she’d been more careful choosing her hiding spot. She tried moving an arm up to dislodge her other one when a thorn scratched deeply at the movement.
“Ouch!” she cried out loud, and suddenly found she wasn’t alone. A few quick footsteps sounded from the direction of the door, and she looked up to see Ned peering through the branches.
“Beverly?”
She froze in horror, but of course he’d already seen her. She’d been caught.
Ned’s eyes were wide in confusion. “What are you doing in there?”
Desperate, Beverly thought she’d pitch at leas
t a bit of an effort at saving her dignity. Craning her neck toward a pink rose near her face, she sniffed. “Just enjoying the roses,” she said, a bright note attached to her words.
“Are you okay?”
“Sure.” She nodded. “I’m fine.”
“Here, let me help you out of there.”
“Oh, okay. Thanks,” she said, as if she were accepting a pleasantry rather than in dire need of help—which she was.
It took some work even with Ned’s assistance to get her untangled. He was sweet about it, pulling each branch away with care until one arm then the other and finally the rest of her were free. Once she was back on the sidewalk, he gave her a curious look. “What exactly were you doing in there?”
Beverly rubbed her arms gently. She should have been spending the last few minutes anticipating that question, but the thorns and Ned’s fingers on her skin distracted her. She giggled, nervous. “Just went to smell the flowers, and … fell in.”
“Fell in?” He didn’t believe her, clearly, but his mouth hadn’t turned up to laugh at her yet.
“Yep. Just fell in. How did you know I was there?”
He pointed at the house behind the rosebush. “I went in the library to see how Dr. Tune was getting along, and there you were, just outside the window.”
Sure enough, the library window was right behind the rosebush. Ned totally would have been able to see her from inside. She squeezed her eyes shut for a few seconds, trying to keep the humiliation from sinking in. “Well, thank you!” She smiled as brightly as he could. Strange, but he still didn’t look amused as he took her arm and led her inside. Maybe that was because he’d already figured out that she’d been spying on him and Natalia.
“Let’s go get those cuts cleaned up,” he said. “There’s a first aid kit down in the dungeon.”
From the look on Beverly’s face, you’d think she was being led to an actual dungeon. Ned could have told her that “dungeon” was a term the family traditionally used to be funny, but he didn’t. Let her think she was about to get tortured or locked up or worse. He had other things to worry about.
When they reached the door, Beverly looked at it like it had her name on it.
“What’s wrong?”
She ran her fingers over the old black lettering. “Nothing. I think I probably saw this yesterday, is all.” Muttering, she added, “I must have.”
Whatever. When he actually had to give her a gentle tug before she’d follow him down the winding stone steps, his patience started to wane. “It’s fine,” he said through his teeth. “No one’s going to eat you.”
“I hear voices. Are there people down there?”
He bit back the sarcastic reply. “Yes, but they’re nice people. I promise.” He took her hand to get her moving, and this time she followed.
The hallway at the bottom of the stairs ended just outside the kitchen, well lit from bright lights and long windows along the upper portion of the walls. The kitchen staff bustled around preparing lunch, and as Ned and Beverly passed through, he snatched a carrot stick.
“Not what you expected?” He waggled his eyebrows at her—much better than saying I-told-you-so. The head chef came round from the walk-in refrigerator, and Ned greeted him with a wave. “Hey, Floyd. The first aid kit—is it still in the utility room?”
“Yeah, should be there,” the tall bald man said. “Need any help?”
“Not unless she gives me a hard time, but keep your vegetable peelers handy.”
Beverly’s expression bounced up a notch from uncomfortable to scared. “Hey!”
“Don’t worry.” He winked, leading her from the kitchen to the next room. “It’ll be quick.”
Turning his head, he rolled his eyes. This woman had the imagination of a child. Next thing you knew she’d be making imaginary friends.
Or meeting the supposed castle ghosts. A harsh laugh escaped him.
“I don’t think this is funny.” She scanned the utility room, but there wasn’t much to see. “And why do you call it the dungeon when it’s just the kitchen and laundry down here?”
Ned opened the big metal cupboard in the corner. Yep, the first aid kit was right where it should be. Labor and Industries would be proud. “We call it the dungeon because guests like there to be a dungeon in a castle. As long as they don’t come down, they can imagine there are all kinds of horrors down here.” He opened a bottle of antiseptic and dabbed some onto a clean cotton square. “That should satisfy you.”
Beverly inhaled sharply when he touched the first cut, but she didn’t flinch. “Why would that satisfy me?”
“You pointed out last night that Demander needs a little zing to keep people interested. Throw in some fictional ship models with the historical ones, make the place a little more entertaining. Great ideas like that. Maybe get a few rumors circulating about intrigue, mystery, and murder.”
Beverly gave him a sharp look. “Murder? What are you talking about?”
Ned’s bad mood was escalating. It wasn’t noon yet and he’d already had one run-in with his father, a devil of a time getting the library key to work, and had a disagreement with Natalia. This on top of gathering up data for Dr. Tune and keeping his hotel running. He knew he shouldn’t take it out on Beverly, but she really wasn’t helping his situation, so why not?
Plus, despite all the ways she irritated him, this beautiful woman with her beads and braids and feisty defenses continued to be a distraction he did not need.
“Isn’t that what you were hoping for?” he asked. “Creeping around dark corners, looking for something sensational. That’s why you read mysteries, right?”
He looked up from his task expecting to see her glaring at him, but instead her eyes were cast down, focused on her scratched hand. It pinched a little at his heart that he’d said something that hurt her, but it also chafed that he needed to consider her feelings, keep her on his side.
Indignation flared. “And what in the world were you doing in the rosebush?”
This time she did flinch, and he did feel bad. She took the antiseptic and a new cotton pad and began dabbing at her own scratches. “I’ve got this. You can go.”
He didn’t need to be told twice, though when he got up to leave, regret surged through him. He left her in the dungeon to fend for herself, morning light from the high basement window pouring into the grey room and making her hair shine like wheat in the sun.
He steeled himself and left. He’d go see if Dr. Tune’s interest had been piqued enough yet to extend his proposal. That was his goal, after all, even if going up the dungeon stairs he felt more and more like a heel, every step of the way.
Chapter 9
Beverly hid in her room during lunch, nursing her hurts and wounded pride. It would have been bad enough if Ned had laughed at her for hiding in the bushes, but it was so much worse seeing him angry instead. She couldn’t leave the castle soon enough the way things were going.
When Aunt Affie came up for her afternoon siesta, she had little sympathy for her niece. Of course, she didn’t know the details—why Beverly had been in a rosebush, or how Ned treated her afterward. She only knew Beverly had wandered off, gotten in a tussle with some thorns, and wasn’t helping her research.
A knobby hand patted Beverly’s tender back, making her wince. “You missed a tasty lunch,” Aunt Affie said. “A nice light vegetable soup and the most delicious homemade rolls. Light as clouds, and fresh cream butter. Ned said there’s a dairy farm just outside of town. We probably passed it on the way here.”
Beverly hadn’t wanted to show her face in the dining room, but now her stomach growled. It was hours before dinner; she’d just have to try to ignore it. “How did things go with Ned?” Beverly tried not to remember the irritation on his face in the dungeon. “Do you have everything you need for that section in the book?”
A knowing look crossed Aunt Affie’s face. “I did, and then some,” she said, clearly leaving something mysterious unsaid. “Did you do that internet gan
gling on Ned and his father?”
Beverly pursed her lips. She knew her aunt well enough to know that the sooner she answered Aunt Affie’s questions, the sooner she’d find out what her aunt was holding back. “It’s called Googling, and I did,” Beverly said. “From what I can see, Philip Sterling has his hands in a lot of pies. Real estate, banking, shipping, and more in the hotel industry.”
“Interesting. I’m not sure if you’d call that diversifying or not sure what he wants to be when he grows up,” Aunt Affie said.
“Maybe a little of both. Demander is his only sole ownership, though. I’m guessing he’s away from Demander a lot, but then Ned said as much yesterday.”
“Probably best for the place if he isn’t here much,” Aunt Affie mused. She’d taken off her shoes and was already turning down the bed for her nap. “He doesn’t care for it the way his son does, except as a cash cow he can milk.”
“I suppose. What about you? Did you learn anything today about why Ned is so eager to have you here?” Eager enough that he stalked you and felt the need to pretend to be interested in me, at least for a while.
“Yes.” Aunt Affie shifted her weight until she was under the covers. Slightly out of breath from getting situated, she said, “He wants me to write a separate book just about Demander Castle.”
The wheels in Beverly’s head shifted into motion. “A separate book? That’s pretty nervy. And what’s he going to do, have you take all his precious papers and pictures home with you?”
“That doesn’t seem to be the plan, no.”
“There’s no way you could write a whole book on this one place without spending a lot of time here, then.”
Aunt Affie pulled the covers up to her neck and closed her eyes. “He said he would arrange for an extended stay. I think the poor boy’s offering to pay out of his own pocket to make it happen. His father’s that cheap.”
The scene in the lobby with nasty Philip Sterling flashed in Beverly’s thoughts. Was that why they had a discount now? Was Ned paying the remainder himself? If so, that father of his really was a reptile. “What did you tell him?”
