“I offer protection. Rich people need protection.”
So her suspicions were right: he was more than a driver. She shrugged. “If you say so. I wouldn’t know.”
Nick sat down at the table facing her, with a plate of his own. Even though he had just served her breakfast, she still couldn’t detect any warmth in his eyes. She was itching to leave the moment she finished her food. “Are the others up yet?” she asked.
“Preston is in the gym, and Ruth, she sleeps late. Bailey…” He shrugged again. “Who knows.” After that, he ate in silence.
Every now and then Sara glanced at the suspicious bulge located on his chest underneath the apron, black straps visible over his dress shirt. Even while cooking he was packing heat. What did that say about the Sinclair household, if they needed protection so badly? And what did it mean for her?
The door slammed open and Bailey walked in. “Gosh, that smells good.” She was talking to Nick. “Can you make me some too? When you’re done eating, of course,” she added generously. Completely ignoring Sara, she sat down next to Nick. “I like that apron on you. You should wear it more often.”
Nick lifted an eyebrow. “I liked your hair the way it was. You grow it back, I’ll wear the apron again.”
Bailey scowled at him. Then she placed her phone in front of her and proceeded to ignore them both.
Nick finished his plate and wiped it clean with a piece of toast. “It would be nice of you to say good morning to your new tutor.”
Bailey rolled her eyes. “Good morning, new tutor.”
Nick shook his head and got up to make another omelet.
Sara drained the last bit of her coffee and got up. “When you’re done, Bailey, maybe you can come to my room? So we can get started on the schedule? It won’t take long.”
The girl pulled a face but didn’t look up from her phone. “Maybe. If I have nothing better to do.”
Sara left the kitchen without further comment. It would do no good to show how much Bailey irked her. She went up to her room and got the teaching materials out, as well as the tentative schedule she had made, and waited for Bailey to show. Half an hour later, without any sign of Bailey, Sara set out looking. First she went to the girl’s bedroom, which was dark.
“Bailey?”
No answer, but Sara thought she heard something. A sigh, perhaps? She flipped the light switch. Nothing happened. Irritated, she called again, “Bailey? This isn’t funny.”
Not getting a response, she went in brusquely, walked to the window, and opened the blinds. Sunlight came streaming in. She turned around, half expecting to find the girl hiding somewhere. But the room was empty. The bed was unmade, and some clothes were scattered across the floor, but otherwise the room was neat. Too neat, maybe. There were no posters on the walls. There was a desk, but it didn’t have anything on it. A large flat-screen TV and an Xbox stood on a low cabinet across from the bed. Her gaze halted at the bookshelves, which were neatly lined with books and a few pictures. It was the only thing that felt personal in the room. Sara examined the books more closely, appreciating Bailey’s diverse taste. Tucked in between the Harry Potter series and some classics were books about art, history, and poetry, and even a few biographies.
Her eyes fell on one of the pictures. There was Bailey, smiling, next to a woman who looked like an older version of her. Sara guessed it was Lauren, the woman who seemed to have had many contradicting qualities. She squinted at the photograph. Both mother and daughter had long and somewhat curly dark brown hair, big doe-like eyes, dimples, and a slightly turned-up nose. Their faces were tanned, tiny freckles showing on their noses. There was love in this picture, and happiness in Bailey’s eyes—how different the girl looked now. Something stirred in Sara’s chest. She knew what it was like to lose your mother. And Bailey was so young.
Next to the picture was a hairbrush, a mat of dark hair caught within the spines. What had Bailey done to her beautiful hair? Sara picked up the brush.
In an instant, she was sucked into what felt like another dimension. The temperature seemed to drop a few degrees, and everything went dark. Something was approaching—something hostile. It didn’t touch her, but it stayed close. Too close. Sara felt like she had just sprouted whiskers that were warning her not to step to the right. Her muscles cramping, she stood stock-still, barely breathing. There was nothing to see. No sound that indicated another presence. Yet it was there. A violent shiver ran down Sara’s back. “What do you want?” she whispered. A sharp thud almost made her jump out of her skin. Something had fallen—invisible, concealed by darkness. Then she felt the presence retreat and fade away.
Propelled back into reality, light burst into her field of vision. In front of her was the bookcase. The picture of Bailey and her mother was tipped over, facedown.
She heard rustling behind her.
“What are you doing in my room?” Bailey’s voice was indignant as she rushed in and pulled the hairbrush out of Sara’s hands. “How dare you snoop around!” Her eyes were blazing. “Get out!”
Sara, still in shock, tried to find a response. “I was looking for you,” she stammered.
“Well, you found me. Now get out.” Bailey spotted the photograph and put it back in its original position. “Don’t ever touch my stuff again. I’ll have you fired.” There was a catch in her voice.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude,” Sara pleaded. “I just—I was looking for you, and then I got curious about what you were reading.”
Bailey seemed to calm down a little. “Fine,” she said, accepting the apology. “Just ask me first next time.”
“Deal.” Sara gave a jittery smile. She pointed to the picture. “Is that your mother?”
“Yes.” There was that catch again. “That was last spring. About a month before she—died.” Bailey clenched her jaw.
“I’m sorry.”
Bailey shrugged. “Whatever. I’d like to go skiing today. Maybe we can do this scheduling thing after?”
“How about we do it before? That way you can spend the rest of the day at your own leisure.”
Bailey rolled her eyes. “Fine.”
It really didn’t take more than twenty minutes, even with Bailey an unwilling participant, her face painted in a scowl for the entirety. Whether she was annoyed at the prospect of having her free time taken away or at having someone interfere with her life at all, Sara wasn’t sure.
When Bailey was about to leave, schedule in hand, she hesitated at the doorstep.
“Did you have a question?” Sara prompted.
“Would you like to come? Skiing, I mean?” Bailey even produced a half smile.
Floored, Sara needed a moment to adjust to the change in attitude. “Thank you for the offer,” she said, returning the smile. “You should know, I’m an abysmal skier. I’m not sure you’d enjoy having me there.”
“I could teach you a few things…”
There was the olive branch Sara had been hoping for, although she wished it entailed anything but a return to those dreaded slopes. But how could she refuse? “Of course,” she said, smiling even more brightly, “if you’d like to. I’ll take all the help I can get.”
“Meet you downstairs in the ski room in half an hour?”
“Perfect.”
The moment Bailey was out of sight, Sara wiped the smile off her face. She could think of at least ten other things she’d rather do.
While she changed into her snowsuit, she contemplated what had happened back in Bailey’s room. It wasn’t the first time something like this had occurred, of course. Her mind still rebelled at the idea of ghosts, but there really was no other word for it. Was there?
Her intestines cramped. The problem with ghosts was that the moment they made themselves known to her, they wouldn’t leave her alone. At night, mostly. She groaned. Her last ghostly experience had left her seriously doubting her sanity—and she really had no desire to repeat the exercise. Still, a restless spirit in Bailey’s room wasn’t a good sign, and the
sooner it was resolved, the better.
With heavy feet, she made her way down to the ski room. Inside she found her skis stacked against the far wall and Bailey sitting on a bench, putting on her ski boots. The girl ignored her entry completely. Sitting down across from Bailey, she soon struggled with her own boots. The faint flowery scent was still lingering in the room.
“It smells nice in here,” she commented.
Bailey snorted. “Sweaty feet and moldy carpet? You’re joking, right? This room smells disgusting. But whatever floats your boat, I guess.”
Sara shook her head. “No, it smells like flowers. I can’t remember which kind, but I recognize it from somewhere.”
Bailey looked at Sara like she had lost her mind. “Your nose needs a check-up. I do not smell any flowers.”
“Weird…” Sara pulled her snow pants over her boots. “But I guess I can’t complain. I’d rather smell flowers than sweaty feet.”
Bailey performed her customary eye roll and gave a dramatic, exasperated sigh. Stomping to the exit, she said, “We can ski from here to the lift. It’s not hard. Just follow me.” She grabbed her skis on the way out, leaving the door wide open.
“Teenagers are so fun,” Sara mumbled.
Bailey’s voice drifted back in. “I can hear you. My ears work fine. Just like my nose.”
“I sincerely meant every word.” Sara got up, grabbed her skis, and followed Bailey outside.
Bailey was right; the path to the lift was easy and posed no real problems. Bailey even gave some good pointers along the way. Sara had to admit the girl was a more effective teacher than David. Maybe she would learn how to ski decently after all. Encouraged, she skied up to the lift. Examining the slope ahead, she said, “It looks a little steep, don’t you think?”
Bailey shrugged. “Not really. We can go farther up from there. There are some nice blue slopes, perfect for a beginner.”
At the end of the lift, Bailey guided her to another one. The mountain air was cold, nipping at Sara’s throat. The sun sparkled off the white snow, bright and dazzling, and the sky was a deep azure; it was a mesmerizing picture of tranquility. Although Sara’s knees were jittery, she was enjoying being outside.
When they arrived at the top, Sara took in the view of the surrounding winter wonderland. “It’s beautiful.”
“It is. We’ll have to go down here.” Bailey pointed down a slope that looked awfully steep.
Sara hesitated. “Are you sure…?”
“If you want to get home, yes. If you’d rather spent the night up here, then by all means, stay put.” Bailey smirked.
Sara noticed the sign next to the slope and her heart dropped into her pelvis. “But,” she stammered, “that’s a black diamond. I don’t know how to do a black diamond… I told you I was a beginner!”
“Did you? Must have slipped my mind. I’ll see you back at the lodge. Have fun! Bye.” With that, Bailey took off.
Sara’s brain couldn’t completely comprehend what was happening. Helpless, she watched Bailey fly down the slope. The girl was an accomplished skier, and fast, too. Before long, she was out of sight.
Realizing she had been duped, Sara cursed. “I can’t believe this! Shit, that little…” Staring down the steep hill, she felt a cold sweat breaking out all over her body. There was no way she could get down from here. Other skiers zoomed by, cries of laughter and excitement filling the air. She wished she could share their joy.
She took a deep breath. With trembling legs, she pushed off.
It was a miserable undertaking, but she made her way down—slowly, stopping frequently, and falling just as often. At a certain point she even resorted to scooting down on her behind, completing her embarrassment. When she returned to the lodge, she was amazed that the most significant damage inflicted upon her was to her self-esteem. She looked for Bailey, but of course the girl was nowhere to be found.
After a hot shower to soothe her bruises and sore muscles, she left the lodge to meet David for dinner at the Hideout. He was sitting alone at a table. At the sight of him, her heart gave a little jolt.
“Hey, stranger.” She ruffled his hair.
“Hey, there you are! I was wondering what took you. How’s the new job?” He got up and pulled her close for a long kiss, waking up her tired body. “Are you hungry?”
“Yes, starving.” She wasn’t sure which she was hungrier for—David or food.
“So, tell me about the job,” he said after they’d ordered.
Begrudgingly, Sara told him what had happened at the ski slopes. David tried hard to keep a straight face, but he wasn’t completely successful.
“Don’t laugh, it was totally mean!”
He nodded. “It was. And disrespectful too. She’s testing you. But keep in mind, she’s a teenager, and an angry one, from the sound of it. I don’t think she’s angry at you, but she has plenty of reasons to be angry. You make a convenient scapegoat.”
“I know.” Sara dug into the fries the waiter had placed in front of them, mulling this over. “You’re right,” she said. “It’s not like she can act out at her mother. And Preston—I didn’t see him the whole day. He works a lot, I guess.”
It was obvious what David thought of all that. He shook his head, frowning. “I’m still not sure you should do this job. I know it pays well, but is it worth the hassle?”
“I took it,” Sara mumbled between two bites of fries. “I can’t really run away now. Besides, there’s something strange—” She cut her sentence short. Maybe she shouldn’t tell David about the encounter in Bailey’s room just yet. He wouldn’t like it.
“What’s strange?”
“The house. It’s eerie. Some of the rooms are super dark. It would be a perfect place for a horror movie. Or a vampire lair.”
“Oh, good. It gets better and better. Don’t get bitten is my advice. Stay in the sunlight.” He leaned in and whispered, “I could make you a wooden stake to hide underneath your pillow.” He grinned.
“Funny, you are.”
“I know. I’ve been told.” His eyes twinkled.
“Seriously. The house is creepy.”
“You wanted the job…”
“Right.” She checked her phone. “Shoot, I have to go. Preston is leaving tonight with the bat lady. It will just be me, Bailey, and Nick, the bodyguard. Maybe I should lock my door.”
“You’re really leaving me alone? We haven’t even finished dinner,” he said, pulling a sad face. He put his hand over hers and softly caressed her, interrupting her train of thought.
“Yes,” she managed to say. “Preston wants me to keep Bailey company.”
But leaving David was hard. When she finally got back to the lodge, the black Jaguar was parked in front of the front door, humming softly.
Preston was in the living room, apparently waiting for her. His face spelled trouble. She glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner, but it was still stuck at thirty-seven minutes past ten. Her phone gave the verdict: she was ten minutes late.
Preston scowled at her. “I don’t appreciate the lack of punctuality. Please don’t let it happen again. Bailey is upstairs.” He headed for the door. “Call Ruth if there are issues.”
With a loud thump, the door closed, and silence fell over the house. Wonderful. Her boyfriend was giving her mixed messages, and now her employer was barking at her. A soft ticking shattered the stillness. Tick…tock… tick…tock… Sara looked around until her eyes fell on the grandfather clock. Its pendulum was swinging.
That was too much for her. Fleeing the room, certain someone was watching, she rushed upstairs, leaving the lights on below.
Bailey’s door was open. The girl was lying on her bed, earphones in. Sara could hear the music from the doorway. Still trembling, she stopped, waiting for the girl to notice her. Bailey finally looked up, slowly took one of her earbuds out, and gave an evil smirk. “Did you have a good time skiing today?”
“It was an adventure.” Sara kept her expression even.
/>
“My dad was upset with you. He hates when people are late. You may get yourself fired without me lifting a finger.”
Sara gave Bailey a long, hard stare. “Have you ever considered what your dad would come up with as an alternative, Bailey, if things don’t work out with me? Your first tutor died, and if I leave or get into an accident, how many more do you think will line up to help? Maybe you should rethink your options. You’re a smart girl. I’m sure you can figure it out.” With that, she walked away and went into her room.
She closed the door softly, but not before she heard Bailey shout, “He would just hire someone new, and just like you, they’ll only want the money!” But the girl didn’t sound nearly as confident as she had before.
Chapter 6
It’s warm—the smell of summer permeates the dusty air. A fair wind blows, whipping Sara’s loose hair across her eyes and mouth. Holding her blond locks away from her face with one hand, she looks around. Her surroundings are familiar; she could swear she’s somewhere near Dunnhill, although she hasn’t been to this specific spot before. She recognizes the outline of the mountains around her, but she’s high up, likely at one of the vista points that can be reached at the end of a long, arduous hike. The sparse grass is yellow, and the ground is rocky. Laughter drifts toward her from somewhere ahead.
She follows the sound up a gravelly path. The voices become louder. At the top, she sees two people sitting on some rocks, facing away from her. Sara gets closer. There are two girls chatting and laughing. Both are in their late teens or early twenties, dressed in T-shirts and shorts, bandanas around their necks, sturdy walking shoes, and baseball caps.
“I swear, I love summer,” says the one in the pink baseball cap, her blond hair in a ponytail that sticks out from the back of the hat. Her soft, well-cut pink T-shirt traces the curves of her body.
“Of course you do,” says the other girl. “You’re the embodiment of summer…” Her blue baseball cap is turned backward and some short, dark curly hair peeks out from underneath. A big W adorns the front of the cap. Her T-shirt is at least a size too big, and the sleeves are cut off, showing off her fit upper arms. She has a distinct star-shaped tattoo on her left upper arm. Sara squints at the back of the T-shirt—it displays a list of Nirvana tour dates.
The Secrets of Sinclair Lodge Page 5
