by Ally Carter
“You’re going to have such a good day,” Sadie told her. “Smithers is going to give you tests!”
For a moment, April was absolutely certain she’d misheard her. But, no, Sadie was practically vibrating with glee. And envy.
“You’ll get assessed on everything—reading, math, science. How’s your French?” Sadie asked, deadly serious.
“I’m fluent in fry,” April told her, and it took Sadie a moment to realize April was joking.
“You’ll do great,” Sadie said. “Don’t be nervous.”
“I’m not,” April said, and Sadie stopped smiling.
“Oh. Well, maybe be a little bit nervous.”
And after that, April was.
Sadie had to rush off to the kitchen because she had a big surprise planned for breakfast (Sadie’s words). Violet was already gone—probably off somewhere with Tim—which left April to make her way downstairs alone. Which was exactly how April liked it.
* * *
On some level, April knew that the key wasn’t still hot from the fire. But it felt like it was. She could feel it underneath her shirt, burning her skin and making her sweat. She wondered if it might leave a scar. But, honestly, April would have been okay with that. She would have been okay with anything if it brought her one step closer to her mother.
And she was getting closer—she had to be! After all, April had a key with the Winterborne crest, and she was now living in a whole mansion full of Winterborne crests!
April had a key. Which meant that all April needed was a lock.
But Sadie had said that Winterborne House was thousands of square feet, so April needed some kind of plan. A strategy. A blueprint and a list. Maybe Smithers had an archive of all the locked things in the mansion? But he probably wouldn’t give it to her unless he was hypnotized or something.
(Note to self: research butler hypnotization.)
Really, April was starting to think that maybe she was just going to have to search every room on every floor until she either found what her key opened or died of old age. Whichever came first.
So April headed for the first floor because that seemed an obvious place to start. She was halfway down the stairs when she heard it.
“I wouldn’t go down there if I were you.”
The voice was small. And close. And had a funny-sounding accent that April couldn’t quite place. For a second, it seemed like maybe the people in the paintings were talking, but April wasn’t frightened. She was just confused as she stood in the wide, dim hallway and said, “Hello?”
“You must be the new girl. Or one of ’em, I reckon. Well, don’t let me stop you, love, if you want to go down, but take my word for it, you can see better from up here.”
“Um . . . who are you?” April looked around. “And . . . um . . . where are you?”
Then the voice laughed. “I’m up here. On the floor,” it said, which didn’t make even a little bit of sense to April, but as she inched toward the curving staircase and looked up, she saw a boy lying on his stomach, looking through the banister at the foyer down below.
Without realizing it, April started to climb, moving slowly on the old steps.
“I’m Colin. And you’re April, I’m guessing,” the boy said with a wink. “Welcome to Winterborne House.”
Then he rolled back onto his stomach and peered through the banister. April wasn’t really thinking as she dropped to the soft, plush carpet beside him.
“Where are you from?”
“All ’round. But me mum’s from London. That’s why I talk funny. Except where I’m from, you’d be the funny-talking one now, wouldn’t ya?”
April supposed he had a point. But the most interesting thing about Colin wasn’t that he had an accent. No. It was that he also had a mother.
She actually looked around, as if expecting the woman to show up at any moment, but he turned back to the foyer and the door.
“What are you doing?”
“Watching,” he said. “And waiting.”
“For what?” April asked.
“Haven’t you heard?” he asked, his eyes getting wide. “They’ve found Gabriel Winterborne.”
9
The Future Mrs. Winterborne
April didn’t quite know what to think or feel or believe. She just knew that Colin was keeping his gaze trained on the foyer and he was . . . laughing?
“Bet you ten quid this one says he’s in the Alps. They love saying that. I guess they figure he’ll have a beard and make his own clothes out of animals he’s killed or something. So Alps are the odds-on favorite. But they also love small islands in the South Pacific. Sadie has a fiver riding on the islands. What do you think?”
“What do I think about what?” April asked because, really, she wasn’t sure what she thought about anything by that point. Almost dying in a fire, getting saved by an urban legend, and going to live in the home of a presumed-dead billionaire would do that to a girl.
“What do you think she’s gonna say?” Colin asked.
“What is who going to say?” April asked, but then there was the clicking of shoes on the floor in the foyer below. Smithers’s back seemed especially straight as he opened the door and ushered a young woman inside.
“Her,” Colin said with a grin.
The new woman and Smithers spoke in words too low for April to hear. When Smithers led the woman away, Colin pushed up from the floor and whispered, “Come on.”
Then he bolted up the stairs and down the hall and through a sliding door that April hadn’t even realized was a door at all. For a moment, she stood on the threshold, trying to let her eyes adjust to the dim light while Colin bobbed and weaved among stacks and stacks of—
“Ow!” April stubbed her toe and heard something fall to the floor.
“Shh,” Colin whispered. “Hurry up. You’re missing it.”
Books. April was surrounded by books. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness, and she eased toward the light and the outline of the boy, who was lying on his stomach again, looking down at the library below.
“I’m Gabriel Winterborne’s fiancée,” said the stranger. She was pretty, April had to give her that. But she was dressed like someone who had googled billionaire’s girlfriend and just bought everything that came up. Glitzy earrings. Leather gloves. Tall boots.
“Is that right? Well, congratulations,” Ms. Nelson said, but her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“He said that if anything should ever happen to him, I should come here.”
“Did something happen to Gabriel?” Ms. Nelson asked.
April thought that was a perfectly reasonable question, but the fiancée bristled and looked Ms. Nelson up and down.
“Who are you?” The stranger sounded annoyed.
“I’m Isabella Nelson, the director of the Winterborne Foundation.”
“Then I believe that’s Mr. Winterborne to you.” The woman actually looked down her nose at Ms. Nelson, and Colin laughed.
“Ooh. She’ll be regretting that, she will.”
Smithers stepped forward then. “May I offer you tea, madam? Or coffee?”
“No, Smithers. It is Smithers, isn’t it?” she asked. Then she smiled. “It seems like I know you. Gabriel speaks of you so often. No.” Her voice cracked. “Spoke.”
“Not bad,” Colin said, but April could tell that Ms. Nelson wasn’t impressed.
She asked, “Where did you meet . . . uh . . . Mr. Winterborne?”
“Gimmelwald? Do you know it?” the woman said. “It’s a small village in the Swiss Alps. Gabriel had a cabin nearby.”
“Told you,” Colin whispered, but he didn’t even glance in April’s direction.
“Had, you say?” Ms. Nelson said.
“Yes. Well . . .” Then there was a handkerchief in the woman’s hand and she was walking toward the windows. When she spoke again, her voice was so soft that April barely heard it. “There was a terrible storm—”
“What’s the meaning of this?” It took Apri
l a moment to recognize Evert Winterborne without his giant scissors, but there he was, striding into the library like he owned the place. And maybe he did.
“Hello, Evert,” Ms. Nelson said. “It seems Gabriel has a fiancée. A new one.”
The stranger recoiled a little, and April watched her realize that maybe she wasn’t the first fiancée who had shown up since Gabriel went missing. But she didn’t bother trying to convince Ms. Nelson.
“She’ll go for the men, you watch,” Colin whispered, and sure enough, the stranger rushed to the uncle, tears in her eyes.
“Oh, Uncle Evert! We have to find him!”
But Uncle Evert simply asked, “Gabriel Winterborne has a birthmark. Where is it?”
“His arm,” she said after a moment and pointed to a place just above the bend of her left elbow.
“My nephew is allergic to what food?”
“Asparagus,” the woman said, finally getting the hang of the game.
“Where did you meet?”
“At an inn. I was passing through. He’d come for supplies.”
“I see,” the uncle said. “When was this?”
“Two years ago. We fell in love.”
“And you’ve been together ever since?”
“That’s what people do when they’re in love.” The stranger gave a haughty look in Ms. Nelson’s direction.
“But you don’t know where he is now?” the uncle asked.
“We were separated in a storm. But he said if anything ever happened to him I was supposed to come here—that his family would take care of me.”
“Does this happen a lot?” April whispered and Colin shrugged.
“Every couple of months. This one’s pretty good. Most never make it past the guardhouse. Evert needs to get a new question, though. Anyone who’s ever googled Gabriel Winterborne shirtless knows about that birthmark. Not much test for a grifter. And she’s a fair grifter.” He gestured to the woman below.
“Maybe she does know him,” April said.
But Colin looked at her and tilted his head. “Aww. You’re sweet,” he said even though April didn’t feel sweet. At all. And she was just about to say so when Colin said, “At least this one didn’t bring a kid.”
“They do that?”
“Sure they do,” Colin said. “Oldest grift in the world. Course, these days, it won’t stand up, with DNA and all, but DNA takes time, don’t it? And if you’ve got a family who wants someone back real bad, sometimes you can dangle ’em on for a few days. At least a good grifter can. And she’s good.” He gestured to the woman, then shrugged. “But I’ve seen better.”
Something in the way he said it, April had no doubt he had. Down below, Smithers was guiding the newest future Mrs. Winterborne to the door, but April couldn’t take her eyes away from the boy beside her.
“Colin?” she asked slowly. “Who’s the best grifter you ever saw?”
He took a deep breath, and when he spoke again, the words were soft and low. “One woman came here about a year ago. Dressed real normal, see. No rags. No furs. Just a pretty lady with a boy who looks like the dead guy. That’s the key. That and knowing what people want to see. And hear. That one they asked to stay awhile.”
“What happened to her?” April asked.
“She ran off. Cleaned out the silver and the safe and was gone by morning.”
“What happened to the boy?”
Colin grinned. And shrugged. And said, “Nice to meet you.”
“Colin!” Ms. Nelson’s voice echoed up from the floor below. “I’m assuming you’re up there.”
He scooted closer to the light and the railing, and yelled, “She was good, wasn’t she? But not good enough.”
“No. She wasn’t good enough. Come on, now. You too, April,” Ms. Nelson said. “I’m starving.”
10
The SadieMatic Seven!
April wasn’t sure what she was expecting when Colin led her downstairs to the kitchen. Shiny copper pots hung from hooks in the ceiling. The countertops were stone and looked so clean you could eat off them. A funny-looking stove was at the end of the room, and April got the feeling that no matter how much the wind might blow and howl outside, this room would always be warm and cozy and smell like fresh-baked bread. It was instantly April’s favorite room that she had ever been in. When she saw the huge window seat lined with fluffy pillows, she wanted to ask if she could just sleep there instead of in her big bed upstairs. April never, ever wanted to leave.
A worn and weathered table sat at the other end of the room, and that’s where Colin led her. It was already covered with bacon and eggs and big heavy plates. It seemed like the kind of table where you wouldn’t get in trouble if you spilled. Maybe that’s why April wasn’t nervous as she slid into a chair so close to the hot biscuits she could have leaned over and licked the butter off of one if she’d wanted to. Which she did want to. But she resisted the urge, and for that she thought she might deserve some kind of medal.
“There you are!” Sadie exclaimed as Colin took a seat. “I’ve been waiting forever. What happened?”
But before Colin could answer, the doors swung open and Ms. Nelson came in, Tim and Violet trailing dutifully behind.
“I’m sorry we’re late, Sadie. It seems Gabriel Winterborne has a fiancée. Again,” Ms. Nelson said.
Sadie wheeled on Colin. “And?”
He smirked and raised an eyebrow. “Alps.”
“Darn it!” Sadie pulled a five-dollar bill from her pocket and slapped it into Colin’s hand.
“Nice doing business with ya.” He slid the bill into his pocket.
“Everyone hungry?” Smithers asked, and April realized he must have been working on the other side of the room. He carried a huge ceramic dish very, very carefully toward the table. April wasn’t sure what was inside, but it smelled like heaven.
Ms. Nelson turned to the boy at the other end of the table. “So, Tim, have you settled in okay?”
“Yeah. I mean yes. Thank you.” He kept glancing at Violet out of the corner of his eye, but Violet wasn’t looking at Tim at all. She was too focused on Colin, who was pointing both of his fists in her direction. She’d tap him on the back of the hand, and he’d turn that hand over—lightning fast—and show her his empty palm. Then she’d touch him again, and this time a scrap of paper would be there, like magic.
Violet was laughing, and Tim was looking at her like he’d never heard her make that sound before, and Sadie was standing by the huge oven, a bright smile on her face.
“You have a seat, Smithers,” Sadie announced.
“If you insist,” he said, and made a show of slipping into one of the empty seats at the table while Sadie kept standing.
“Today, ladies and gentlemen,” Sadie went on, standing a little taller and speaking a little louder than she really had to, “I am pleased to unveil—for the first time ever—the SadieMatic Seven!”
April thought maybe she was supposed to clap, but Colin leaned toward her and whispered, “You don’t want to know what happened to SadieMatics One through Six.”
“This is very exciting, Sadie,” Ms. Nelson said, but April noticed that she scooted back from the table a little and Smithers kept glancing at the fire extinguisher that was mounted by the door.
“Everyone ready?” Sadie asked.
“Maybe we should enjoy our breakfast while it’s hot,” Ms. Nelson said.
“Oh, but this is part of breakfast. See?” And then Sadie pulled a lever that April hadn’t noticed before. Soon, the oven door opened and a cookie sheet slid out. There was a large stack of pancakes on it, and April watched, mesmerized, as the cookie sheet was pulled along a track and onto the clean stone countertop beside the stove.
Ms. Nelson applauded, and Smithers said, “Well done, Sadie,” but Sadie shushed them and said, “That’s not all!”
“Oh boy,” Ms. Nelson whispered.
April noticed a chain that was running along the ceiling, from the rack holding the pots to the l
ight fixture over the table. A dozen spatulas were working their way through the air. When they reached the place just above the pancakes, a spatula would drop down and pick up a pancake and carry it slowly through the air toward the table.
“Oh, very nice,” Ms. Nelson said.
“Now Smithers doesn’t have to get up when he forgets things in the oven,” Sadie announced.
“Very handy indeed,” Smithers said, and it was perhaps the strangest conversation that April had ever witnessed. They were being so . . . nice. And April couldn’t imagine what was in it for them.
“Now, eat up while it’s hot, everyone,” Smithers said, and April grabbed a biscuit. Then another. Then a third just for good measure. They were the warmest, softest, butteriest things she’d ever touched, and she sat there with her eyes closed for a moment, soaking them in.
And maybe that’s why she didn’t duck.
“Look out!” Colin screamed, but the words were lost amid the sound of shattering glass. Orange juice exploded all over the table.
April looked up just in time to see a pancake hurtling in her direction. Luckily it missed her, but it hit the table and bounced, taking out Colin’s water and knocking over the scrambled eggs. Everyone froze as the big ceramic bowl that was, evidently, full of gravy was hit by a third rogue pancake, tipping it over and sending it flying through the air.
“April!” Ms. Nelson yelled, but it was too late. Steaming gravy was already heading toward April like a wave. She tried to duck. She tried to run. But it was like the most delicious tsunami ever, and April could do nothing but stand her ground as it washed over her, drenching and staining her new clothes and turning the buttery biscuits in her hands into a soggy mess.
The chain had gotten tangled among the pots and pans, and the harder it worked to pull free, the harder the pancakes flew across the room, knocking over glasses of orange juice and cups of coffee.
