by Amberlee Day
Her desk was neat and tidy. Beverly guessed that was more likely the result of Susanna’s own habits than how her husband had left the place when she passed. A single photograph on the desk caught Beverly’s attention, and she picked it up. It was of a young woman with a child. Ned and Susanna. Beverly stared at it, looking for clues to their relationship.
She didn’t have long to think about it when the door behind her suddenly swung open, and she looked up to see Ned in person, standing in the tower room. “Ned!” Her heart fluttered from being discovered, but a giggle bubbled up, too. “You startled me. I thought you’d left.”
He didn’t smile back at her. “What are you doing here?”
Beverly put the picture down. “Just looking.”
“What for?”
Oh, he didn’t look happy at all. She put her hands behind her back. “I wanted to see what your mother was like.”
“And for that you broke in?”
“Not really, I—”
“How did you open the door?”
Beverly’s hands came around to show him. “Push up. I used your trick.”
“My trick.”
“Yes. It worked with this door, too.”
Ned looked back at the door. She’d really thrown him off guard.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I really am. I’m clearly snooping somewhere I wasn’t invited.”
Ned’s gaze traveled the room, and she realized he hadn’t been in here for a long time. He paused on the picture of him as a boy, and then moved to the bookshelves.
“You found the books, then,” he said.
“I did!” she said, a little proud that she’d been right.
“Tell me,” he said, “what were you really looking for in here?”
Where Ned often had a twinkle in his eyes, now there was only disappointment. Beverly drew back. “Nothing.”
“No, you were looking for something, or you wouldn’t have gone to the trouble.”
“I was only—”
He pointed back to the door. “I’ve already given you and your aunt access to all my records, all our family albums. I’ve seen you found journals in the library as well, which is fine. Great, in fact. What more is there?”
Beverly’s stomach soured. He was right. What was she supposed to say? She folded her arms across her stomach, and said the only thing she could think of. “I guess I was looking for evidence.”
A pained expression crossed Ned’s features. “Evidence of what, exactly?”
“I just wondered about … your mother’s death.”
If she’d tossed a book in his face, he wouldn’t have flinched harder. “Did you think she didn’t die, Beverly? Did you think you’d break in here and find her locked in?”
A traitorous bubble of laughter tried to bubble up, remembering that she did briefly wonder that, but she pushed it down with a hard swallow. “I just wondered if maybe she left a journal here, or something that might give a clue.”
He waited, and when she didn’t explain, he asked, “What do you mean by ‘a clue’?”
She bounced, wishing she could just run. But Ned had proven himself to be kind and reasonable these past few days. She’d just have to trust him, and tell him the truth. “A clue about whether or not she was afraid of your father.” When Ned exhaled a disbelieving scoff, she added with more volume, “If her death really was so strange and quick, could he have done something to her? He did inherit everything, after all, so there was a motive.”
“I can’t believe this,” Ned said, and Beverly opened her mouth to explain her logic, when a woman’s voice laughed from the hallway. Ned didn’t turn around, but Beverly had a sudden, irrational fear that Susanna Sterling was about to step into the room, and her heart flew up.
Who did enter the room was Natalia, the manager from Trenforth.
Beverly shook her head, tears starting to sting her eyes. “Wha—”
“And I thought I was having a bad day,” Natalia said.
Ned still stared at Beverly. “The thing is,” he said, “for whatever reason, my father’s actually been nice to you, and to your aunt. And then you suggest something so …”
It wasn’t until that moment that it fully struck Beverly that she’d done an invasive, unkind thing, and it hit her like a stomach punch.
Natalia said, “Ned, don’t you need to leave?”
He looked at his watch. “Yeah.” But after a step toward the door, he paused and turned back, disappointment pulling at his features. “Beverly, I don’t even know what to say. Maybe now you can consider that there might really be such a thing as reading too many novels?”
The air sucked out of her lungs as she watched Ned disappear with Natalia, the latter still laughing, leaving Beverly alone in the tower room.
“Oh! What have I done?”
It wasn’t that Beverly was too ashamed to tell her aunt what happened, though she was certainly humiliated; it was more that she was in shock. Going upstairs to the tower and even breaking into the room made such sense before Ned came, and even for a moment or so after. Now it was the look in his eyes that haunted her.
“I don’t understand what you’re being so mopey about,” Aunt Affie said. “You’re a smart girl. Just because the boy you like has gone out of town for a couple of days shouldn’t mean you fall apart.”
But Beverly wasn’t ready to talk about it. She went to bed early that night, and would have kept the covers over her head the next morning if her aunt hadn’t poked her until she got up. She spent the day working, meticulously going through journal after journal with much more focus than she’d given them before.
“If you’re trying to atone for something, I’m sure reaping the benefits,” Aunt Affie teased, but she occasionally patted Beverly’s back, too, or produced a chocolate from her purse as a reward. By afternoon, Beverly had recovered enough to accept them.
Going to bed that night, Beverly wondered if Ned would avoid her when he returned home. She couldn’t blame him if he did. How could she have let her imagination get away with her so far that she practically accused Ned’s father of harming his mother? Shame kept her chained to her task, and wouldn’t let her mind rest.
That night, Beverly dreamed she was walking the castle looking for Ned. She wandered up to the attic and down to the dungeon, which looked like a real dungeon again. Finally she found him in the library, huddled close on the love seat with Natalia. They both laughed at her.
Something loud woke Beverly from her dream. Knocking. Someone was knocking on the door. She stumbled out of bed and opened the door.
It took her a moment to recognize Hannah, the receptionist. She looked sad, and was wearing yoga pants instead of dressier work clothes.
“What’s the matter, Hannah? I thought you only worked the day shift.”
“I do. Mr. Sterling called and said I had to come in.”
Beverly’s still sleepy heart flipped over, suddenly very awake. “Which Mr. Sterling?”
“Mr. Philip Sterling.”
Not Ned, then. “What did he say, Hannah?” Beverly’s eyes were still adjusting to the dark, but she suddenly realized the girl was crying. “Oh, dear! Don’t cry,” Beverly said. “Just tell me what’s wrong.”
“Mr. Sterling wants you to leave.”
Panic shot through Beverly like a knife. Leave? Oh no. Philip knew. He had to. Ned must have told him that Beverly suspected him of harming his wife, and this was how he responded. No more free rooms, no more access to Demander’s historical documents. Aunt Affie was going to be upset.
“I don’t know why he’s doing this,” Hannah said, wringing her hands.
“It’s alright, Hannah. I know why. Don’t worry, I’ll wake Aunt Affie up first thing in the morning and we’ll be out before breakfast.”
“But that’s the thing,” Hannah hiccupped. “That’s why he made me come, so it wasn’t the night duty clerk coming up. He wanted it to be a woman who came to tell you. He wants me to stay and make sure you pack. You
have to leave tonight, right now. Both you and Dr. Tune.”
A nervous laugh hiccupped through Beverly, and she picked up her cell phone from the side table. “But it’s nearly two in the morning. He can’t mean now.”
“He does,” Hannah said. “He said because you’re not paying guests, he can make you leave when he wants. You’re to be out within the hour.”
Hannah was sweet and tried calling a few other Grantsport hotels, but it was a summer weekend and they were booked. She offered to let them come to her own studio apartment, but the Tunes declined. Better to drive on to the next town and find a place for the night.
“I hope we packed everything,” Aunt Affie said about ten minutes into their drive. She held her purse and her coat tightly on her lap. “When you’ve been somewhere a week, you settle in a little more.”
Beverly brushed away a tear, keeping her chin high. She’d done well ever since Hannah’s knock to keep focused on getting both her and Aunt Affie packed, and she’d need to keep it up at least until they found a place to stay.
“You don’t deserve this,” she told her aunt. “It’s shameful.”
“You’re right, but what do we do? Refusing to go would only mean a scene. And you don’t deserve this either, Beverly. No matter what might be going through your head right now.”
Beverly didn’t dare take her eyes off the rural two-lane road, where she could only see as far as her car lights reached. “Aunt Affie, I did something that caused all this.”
“I’m fairly certain whatever this thing is you’re feeling so badly about isn’t why we were kicked out of our rooms in the middle of the night. But now that you bring it up, I am curious what happened.”
So Beverly told her everything: her conversation with Louis the bookstore owner that led her to wonder about Susanna Sterling’s death, finding out about the tower room, breaking in, and being caught by Ned.
“Well, that had to be embarrassing,” was Aunt Affie’s reply after listening to the whole story.
“You should have seen how he looked at me.” Beverly shook her head. “He was disgusted. He hates me.”
“I’m sure he doesn’t. You were probably so surprised that everything seemed worse than it was.”
“How could it be worse? Clearly Ned told his father my suspicions, and that’s what led to us being evicted.”
“About that,” Aunt Affie said lightly, “from what we’ve seen of Ned and his father, I doubt very much that they discussed you going in that room. I’m pretty sure something else is behind what happened tonight.”
“But what?”
“I’ve suspected for a while now that Philip Sterling heard that Lavinia is my niece.”
“What, and you think he thought I was Lavinia undercover? Something like that?”
“I do. Maybe someone even told him you were, I don’t know. And while you girls are as different as night and day in personality, you do look a lot alike. If he’d seen one of her books, he’d think you were her. My guess is as soon as Philip Sterling realized he’d been played a fool, he kicked us out.”
“But we didn’t—”
“It doesn’t matter. We’ve seen that man’s temper and lack of manners, and my guess is that’s exactly how he would react.”
Thinking it through, Beverly could easily imagine her aunt was right. It didn’t make her feel much better about her own situation, but she could see how it could happen.
When they reached the bridge that would take them to the next town, it was closed for night repairs. A quick stop checking Beverly’s phone showed an alternate route, but they’d be on the road at least two more hours, driving down winding two-lane roads in the dark.
Pulling the car back onto the road to follow their new path, Beverly said, “No matter what caused Philip Sterling to make us leave, there’s one thing you won’t change my mind on, Aunt Affie. I let my imagination get away from me, and karma got me back for it, fast.”
Chapter 16
In two hours they reached Tacoma, the next large town. Aunt Affie had fallen asleep, but Beverly’s brain ran round and round the problems that led her to this point, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep. So she drove two more hours to Oregon. They stopped in a Portland Denny’s for breakfast early in the morning, and Beverly searched on her phone for a place to stay. Portland too was crowded for the weekend, but she finally found a hotel east of downtown in a neighborhood that kept her peeking out the window at her car to make sure it was still there.
While Portland was known as a great place for tourists, neither of the Tunes was in a state of mind to enjoy it. They napped, and went out for a meal in the late afternoon. Beverly tried to read Death at Radcliffe Castle, but now the book’s location was so vivid in her mind that she couldn’t even read without her guilty conscious souring her stomach.
Despite Aunt Affie’s insistence that she was fine, Beverly could see she wasn’t. Her eighty-year-old features sagged, looking older and more tired than normal. Beverly wouldn’t ignore her own responsibility for getting kicked out of Demander, but oh, Philip Sterling! Such a coward to kick out an old lady in the middle of the night, one who had done nothing but offer his family assistance since she met them. It was infuriating, and Beverly knew she’d have to work hard to let go of her anger so it didn’t eat her up.
Before bed that night, Beverly broke into her aunt’s quiet perusal of her Demander Castle notes. “What about Ned’s book?” Beverly asked. “Do you think you’ll go ahead with it?”
Aunt Affie closed the notebook. “I’m not sure. Certainly I’ll still include Demander in the West Coast castle book. But the separate book Ned wants? I don’t know.”
Beverly sat on the end of one of the beds, close to Aunt Affie’s chair. “I thought you didn’t blame Ned for what happened. It’ll devastate him if you back out now.”
“It’s not that. We didn’t have time to get all the information we need for a second book. I planned on a couple of more weeks with access to those records and journals. Besides that, I’m not sure if the current owner of Demander wants the book written. Writing an unwanted, incomplete book doesn’t make a friendly task, no matter how much Ned has his heart set on it.”
It made sense, but Beverly’s own heart ached thinking how Ned would take the news. Nothing was more important to him than Demander Castle. But Aunt Affie was right: if she didn’t have the material to work with, she couldn’t write the book.
They both slept better that night, and left Portland early the next morning. No more leisurely drives from one castle town to the next; their funds and spirits were both low, so they spent the next night in Boise, and the next in Salt Lake, and a third in Farmington. When they finally arrived home to Albuquerque, both Tune women were exhausted, catching a cold (or at least Beverly was), and wondering what came next.
When Ned arrived home from his conference, anxious to see Beverly and apologize for treating her like a criminal, Hannah met him at the door. In a few minutes the tearful girl had explained what happened the night he left: his father had inexplicably kicked both Beverly and Dr. Tune out of the castle.
Ned saw red. He dropped his suitcase and headed for his father’s office, but spun on his heels when a thought occurred to him. “Where did they go?” he asked Hannah.
“I don’t know. I tried to find them a place, Ned. I really did. I even offered to let them stay in my flat. But Miss Tune insisted she’d just drive on to the next town. She was surprised, but she seemed okay when they left, considering.”
Ned’s heart lurched, picturing Beverly. She would have done whatever was needed to make her aunt as safe and comfortable as possible. His hands suddenly went to his eyes as a new thought hit him: Beverly may have believed they were being kicked out because Ned was angry at her for going in the tower room, and he only had himself to blame for that. How could this get any worse?
He found his father slumped at his desk, studying papers. He didn’t look up when Ned came in.
“How coul
d you kick them out?” Ned demanded in measured, angry tones. “In the middle of the night. They were our guests.”
His father looked up. A tired, bitter expression lined his face, surprising Ned. “That girl wasn’t the travel writer,” the older Sterling said. “Did you know?”
Ned shrugged. “I never thought she was.”
His father nodded. “I did. I thought she was, and I would have thought Natalia had told you, too.”
“Natalia? What does she have to do with this?”
“She said this Beverly was really Lavinia Tune. Her sister. Either misunderstood or lied, I don’t know. Natalia’s lucky she already doesn’t work here anymore, that’s all I can say.”
Ned turned away for a moment to think. Would Natalia have told his father a lie on purpose? Maybe. She might have been trying to help Ned get his book written.
“It doesn’t matter,” he finally said. “What you did was inexcusable. Dr. Tune’s an elderly woman. You could have caused her health issues dragging her out of her bed. Maybe you did!”
“I didn’t drag her. I sent Hannah. They had time to pack.”
Disgust and anger bubbled up in Ned like a volcano. “Dad! You were still—”
“Wrong!” Philip suddenly stood up, tall, angry, and imposing. “I know, Ned! Do you think I’m an idiot? I let my temper get the best of me. I was wrong. I’ll be lucky if the old woman didn’t die, or we could be sued. And I know, that’s not what makes it bad. I just …”
Philip began pacing back and forth behind his desk like a captured animal. Ned stood his ground, trembling with anger and unable to fathom where his father’s head was.
“I’ve been so restless,” Philip said. “Ever since your mother died …”
