by Ben Guterson
“Maybe that will change when you go home.”
She let out a small laugh without meaning to. “How could it change?”
Norbridge spread his arms and looked all around. “We pride ourselves here on making Winterhouse a very pleasant place. A place where—we hope—the good things of this world are made a little better.”
“‘Make sure the good survives,’” Elizabeth said, remembering the words on Nestor’s bust.
Norbridge raised his eyebrows in appreciation. “Very nice! Maybe you’ll bring some of that spirit home with you.”
Elizabeth considered. “I don’t know. I don’t think it will work.” She shrugged. “Really, the thing I’d like most of all is to have my parents back. They were nice, not like my aunt and uncle.”
Norbridge just nodded. “Well, I hope things will improve. I really do. I once heard that if a person has nine bad things about them out of ten, you should just focus on the one good thing and try to leave the rest alone.”
“What if they have ten bad things out of ten?” Elizabeth said.
Norbridge laughed.
Elizabeth wanted to feel reassured by Norbridge’s words, by his kindness; but something in his expression actually made her feel—for the first time with him—misunderstood.
“I don’t want to go back home at all,” she said. “Really. I want to just stay here. They hate me and … I hate them…” She tried to continue, but without wanting it to happen, tears were filling her eyes.
“I didn’t mean to upset you,” Norbridge said.
She wiped her eyes and looked back through the telescope, wanting this moment to pass and the conversation about her aunt and uncle to end. She swept the telescope back closer to the open spaces in front of Winterhouse and stopped when she noticed something. Two people in black coats were on the small bridge that spanned the ice-bound creek in front of the forest. The bridge itself was part of the trail that led away into the trees on the west side; Elizabeth had skied along it twice now, though she hadn’t gone far.
She adjusted the telescope to look more closely. It was difficult to see faces, given the angle from which she was watching. One of the figures gestured to the other, pointed out something on the brickwork on the far side of the bridge. The two people stood studying the wall intently. It all seemed enormously strange to Elizabeth.
She zoomed in closer with the telescope and saw Marcus Q. Hiems’s distinctive mustache on the taller of the two figures. With a gasp, Elizabeth realized she was watching Marcus and Selena Hiems.
CHAPTER 27
AN UNUSUAL AFTERNOON TEA
TEN
TON
TOY
BOY
BOX
“What do you see?” Norbridge asked.
“The Hiemses,” Elizabeth said, backing away from the telescope. “They’re doing something by the bridge.” She almost mentioned she was going to visit them that afternoon, but then she caught herself.
Norbridge looked unconcerned. “Those two! I had a chance to speak with them after our little meeting a few nights ago. Just a simple misunderstanding.”
“Did they tell you they thought you were stealing books?”
Norbridge curled his lips and then laughed stiffly. “Turns out they had me confused with some other hotel owner!”
Elizabeth returned to the telescope, though she was thinking that what Norbridge had told her sounded very odd. Selena was pointing out something on the bridge to her husband.
“We should get going,” Norbridge said. He snapped his fingers, and all the lights in the room behind them came on. Elizabeth lifted her face from the telescope and glanced around.
“How did you do that?” she said. “And the snow over your head on Christmas Eve? How do you do those things?”
He held up both hands and then tugged first one sleeve and then the other before saying, simply, “I’m a magician.” He shot his arms outward and a violet silk kerchief materialized that he pulled tight.
“A real magician?” Elizabeth said.
“I’ve discovered over the years that every member of the Falls family has some sort of … I suppose power is the correct word.” He glanced at Lake Luna. “But duty calls.”
* * *
At three-thirty that afternoon, Elizabeth found Sampson, the young bellhop, and asked him to knock loudly on the Hiemses’ door no later than twenty-five minutes after four.
“Just make up some excuse,” she said. “Like you have the wrong room or something.”
She checked inside A Guide for Children once again and found that, sure enough, there was an addition to the silver letters—“THE KEY IS A,” it now read.
So the keyword starts with the letter “A,” she thought. She wondered how many more days it would be until the word became clear. I’m getting closer to figuring it out.
She hid The Book in her drawer again before leaving—as she did every time she departed Room 213—and spent the minutes just before four o’clock telling herself she would not be intimidated by Marcus and Selena Hiems once she was in their room. There were too many questions on her mind to back out now.
“Come in, come in!” Selena Hiems said with delight upon answering her door and finding Elizabeth before her. She wore her standard black clothing, the satiny dress and the vest with the strange symbols on it; her face was starkly white, as though she’d put on an extra layer of makeup.
“Very glad you have come to visit us!” Marcus Q. Hiems said, drawing up behind his wife. He put a hand to his thick suit jacket as if to contain his pleasure. “Such a delight!”
Elizabeth felt more uncomfortable than she would have guessed, though as she was ushered in and given a seat on the plush sofa by the window and offered tea and cookies—with Marcus and Selena chattering pleasantly throughout, asking her about her vacation thus far at Winterhouse—she considered there was nothing on the surface that was unusual. Their room was about as nondescript as could be; the Hiemses hadn’t altered the standard Winterhouse décor in any way, and none of their belongings were in evidence aside from a few books on the end tables. Also, the Hiemses themselves didn’t display any of the menace she’d felt during her first few encounters with them. In fact, the only reason Elizabeth felt odd was because of how completely cordial Marcus and Selena were, in continuation of their performance on Christmas Eve. They sat on a sofa opposite her, with a low coffee table between (with a book-size package on it in gift wrap with a blue ribbon tied around it), and spoke pleasantly with her over their tea.
“Are you all right, dear?” Selena asked after several minutes. “You perhaps aren’t in a talkative mood?”
It was an odd question, but Elizabeth realized she’d been close to silent so far and had done much more listening than talking. She felt too guarded; she’d also been working up the nerve to ask them what had been on her mind.
“I’m okay,” she said. “It’s just—I suppose I don’t really understand why you invited me here today.”
A heavy silence fell upon the room. Selena looked to Marcus with a start, as though she couldn’t make sense of Elizabeth’s words or was looking to him to pick up the thread.
Marcus set his teacup on his saucer with a clink and then smoothed his mustache with his thumb and forefinger. He studied Elizabeth, his lips pinched into something that looked troubled and insincere, and then said softly, “We are hoping you can assist us with a small matter.”
“Assist you?” Elizabeth said.
Selena examined her with her searching eyes once again, something like the cruel look she’d given her on the bus and then again in front of the library doors that one late night.
“Yes, assist us,” she said sternly. “That is our hope.”
Elizabeth glanced around the room. She had a sudden conviction that she might disorient them through distraction. “Where is that big crate you had when you got here?”
Both Marcus and Selena looked stunned. Marcus laughed awkwardly. “Why are you asking that?” he said.
Selena fidgeted and began smoothing her hair. “Yes, why do you want to know?”
“Just curious,” Elizabeth said.
A thump came from the back room, a sound that reminded Elizabeth of the noise Uncle Burlap made when, on occasion during his naps, he slid off his easy chair onto the carpeted floor.
“What was that?” Elizabeth said.
Marcus turned to Selena. “I didn’t hear anything.”
“Me neither,” she said before looking at Elizabeth. “But, yes, we are hoping you can assist us.”
It was clear they had something definite on their minds, Elizabeth thought, and they were not going to be sidetracked. “Well, what is it you want help with?” she said. She kept expecting to hear another bump from the back room, and she felt anxious to think that not only had something made a noise, but Marcus and Selena were pretending they hadn’t heard it.
“As I believe I alluded to in a previous conversation,” Marcus said, “there are, we feel certain, some stolen books in this library.”
“I don’t think Norbridge has stolen any books,” Elizabeth said.
“Not casting aspersions!” Marcus said quickly. “Not casting aspersions. I will leave the gentleman out of the equation and simply state that by some means and at the hands of someone here in this hotel, a collection of books from our family has ended up in the Winterhouse library. I need not explicitly lay blame on any particular individual, but the facts are the facts.”
“We are certain of this, dear,” Selena said. “Absolutely certain.”
“Well, whether that’s true or not,” Elizabeth said, “how can I help you?”
“Call it a feeling,” Marcus said. “A certain intuition on my part, but I have a belief you have a particular feel for books. That you know a special one when you see it. We think you might have a capacity for, shall we say, identifying at least one of the books that has been pilfered from us. A very special one.”
“What he’s asking, dear,” Selena said, “is if you might have picked up, say, a particularly compelling volume since you have been here. Simply put: Is there a special book that you have found in the library?”
Elizabeth felt a deep chill run through her. “That’s why you invited me here? You think I found something in the library and you want it?” The Hiemses didn’t speak. As calmly as she could, Elizabeth plucked a gingerbread cookie from the tray on the table before her and began to chew it slowly. “I noticed when I turned your card upside down that your signature turns into the name Sweth.”
Marcus shrugged casually. “I wasn’t aware. Coincidence, I suppose, though I don’t know that it’s significant in any way.”
“Have you found any book such as we’ve described?” Selena said. She looked mildly angry, as though she was not going to be deterred from heading down the path she’d chosen. “That’s what we would like to know, and we are hoping you can help.” She gestured to the package on the coffee table. “We even have a gift for you.”
Absently, Elizabeth reached to draw out her necklace from where it lay beneath her sweater and took it between her fingers. Another thump sounded from the back room.
“I definitely heard something,” Elizabeth said.
“Lovely necklace, incidentally,” Selena said, ignoring her. “I’m wondering where you got it.” She stood.
Elizabeth went cold. She was about to speak, when Marcus also stood. All kindness had vanished from the Hiemses’ faces, and they loomed over the coffee table and glared down at Elizabeth. Selena began to move closer to her.
“It’s a very lovely necklace,” Selena said in a low voice. “And we are so wanting you to assist us.”
“Yes,” Marcus said. He, too, began to move around the coffee table and toward Elizabeth. “We very sincerely make this request of you—”
A knock sounded at the door.
“Come in!” Elizabeth shouted. “Please come in!”
CHAPTER 28
ON SKIS BY MOONLIGHT
SKIP
SHIP
SHOP
STOP
A key turned in the lock, and then Sampson stood in the open doorway. Marcus and Selena looked at him in astonishment.
“There was a service call from this room?” he said.
“No, there was not!” Marcus yelled. His face was a mask of fury.
“You have the wrong room!” Selena snapped. She, too, was enraged; it was as if Sampson had said something insulting to her.
Elizabeth stood and angled hastily around the coffee table while the Hiemses had their backs to her. “I was just leaving!” she called out, and she dashed to Sampson and gave him a little wave while she slipped past. “Thanks,” she said under her breath, and then shouted from the hallway, “Nice having tea with you, Mr. and Mrs. Hiems!” as she rushed away.
* * *
Just before dinner, Elizabeth added “The Hiemses are hiding something in their room that’s making a strange noise,” and “The Hiemses are looking for The Book” to her list of “Strange Things Going on in Winterhouse.” She decided not to tell Norbridge about her visit to their room, given that he had warned her against having anything to do with them, but she was positive, now, that the couple wanted The Book and knew much more about it than they had revealed. What she really wanted was to be able to share everything with Freddy. Even if he’d been reluctant to delve too deeply into all the mysterious things she’d discovered before, and even though he most likely would have found these recent developments alarming, at least he would listen to her—and he would probably help her think things through clearly now. Elizabeth wished she could talk with him about what she’d learned.
After dinner and after listening to a lecture on Stonehenge delivered by a Ms. Sara Klieberhorn, Elizabeth returned to her room and, once again, went through the exercise of making The Book move. This time it seemed to happen just a tiny bit more easily.
* * *
By midafternoon the next day—right after Elizabeth had opened A Guide for Children and discovered the silver letters now read “THE KEY IS AR”—she decided to find Freddy. She wanted to attempt another apology and tell him she hoped they could be friends again.
She found him in his workshop; this time, instead of knocking, she simply went inside, folded her arms, and said, “Freddy, I’m really sorry about the other night, and I wish you would just forgive me and let’s forget about it.” She surprised herself with her boldness; she hadn’t formed a plan about what she would do after she blurted out her apology.
Freddy stopped working, but did not look up from his bench beside the table. He pushed up his glasses and then set down the canister he had been examining.
He fixed her with a hard glare. “Why did you do that in the library? Call out her name like that?”
Elizabeth adjusted her glasses and looked at her sleeve. “I was just … I don’t know, being dumb, I guess.”
“You just kept talking about all the things you thought were going on here, even after Norbridge explained all of it. It really started to bug me.”
Elizabeth’s face flushed. She opened her mouth to explain herself. She felt as though Aunt Purdy had just accused her of something, and she was all set to argue—and then she stopped. Maybe Freddy was right. Maybe she had gotten so caught up in wondering about the Hiemses and The Book and all of it, that she hadn’t noticed Freddy wasn’t as interested. Even now, she realized she wanted to tell him about everything she’d learned and about the strange visit with Marcus and Selena the day before, but maybe part of being a friend to Freddy meant respecting his interests just as much as pushing her own. Better, at least for now, to leave all of her investigating and questions out of the picture.
“I understand,” she said. “That’s why I just wanted to apologize.” She took in a deep breath, looked around at all the tools on the wall, anything to distract herself in case Freddy chose to turn her down—or, worse, say nothing at all. He remained silent, and the room seemed to grow even quieter.
“Well,” Elizabeth said. “I guess I’ll get going.”
“Wait,” Freddy said. He tapped a finger on a tube of glue on the table, stood, and then walked to her. “I know you’re interested in some of the strange things that are going on around here. And, well, I guess I’m sort of interested in them, too. It’s just, I want to work on my WonderLog and just kind of…”
“I know,” she said. “I really do. I just wanted to say sorry. That’s all.”
Freddy hesitated before speaking. “I’m gonna work here for most of the afternoon,” he said. “But you know that skiing trip tonight?”
“Yes,” Elizabeth said. “I was thinking of going.”
Two of the attendants at the ski shack had announced at dinner the previous evening that they were organizing a night skiing trip along the west side of Lake Luna for that very evening.
“I was thinking maybe we could go together,” Freddy said. He put out a hand to her. “And I accept your apology.”
She took his hand and began to shake. “For sure,” she said. She was trying to remain calm, but inside she felt ecstatic: Freddy wanted to be friends again.
“Okay,” he said. “I better get back to this project. I’ll see you at dinner.”
Elizabeth smiled. “I’ll see you then.” She took a piece of paper out of her pocket and handed it to him. “Oh, hey, I wanted to give you this, too.”
Freddy looked at it uncertainly. “What is it?”
Elizabeth nodded. “Open it.”
Once he did, he saw, written on it, these words:
NUTS
NURS
FURS
FURL
FUEL
Freddy’s eyes went wide. He peered closely at the paper as if he was overlooking something, and then he began to laugh.
“Nurs?” he said. “Come on, that’s not even a word!”
“It is!” Elizabeth said. “A nur is like a knot in wood! And before you say anything else, ‘furl’ means to roll up!” She was practically yelling, she was so excited. It had taken her a long time, but with a dictionary she had checked out of the library, she had worked her way through the word ladder, just as she had promised him.
