by Ben Guterson
“I lost it there,” Elizabeth said. “That was my fault completely, and I’m sorry.”
“But you can’t let people like that get under your skin.”
“But she was so rude!” Elizabeth, feeling agitated again, began hearing the woman’s voice and seeing her face as she had dismissed her.
“And that’s an excuse for acting the same in return?” Leona said softly. She took a sip of tea. “Is that woman in control of your emotions, or are you?”
Elizabeth was stunned. She’d never thought of it this way, and as she sat trying to come up with reasons she was justified for responding as she had, she kept coming back to the fact that she was the one who’d lost her cool—the woman in the plaid skirt hadn’t moved her lips for her.
“You’re right,” Elizabeth said. She thought of her aunt and uncle, how they were always blaming Elizabeth when something went wrong. Even when it wasn’t her fault, they would get upset with her over little things, and they would get even more upset for being upset, as if Elizabeth were responsible for all of it. “My aunt and uncle were that way, always blaming me or saying I started something.”
“We all tend to do that,” Leona said. “Make it seem that others are responsible if we end up acting poorly. But I need you to be pleasant to everyone in the library. If not, you’re just going to end up being miserable yourself, grousing inside about how mean or discourteous other people are. There will always be reasons to justify being impolite in return.” Leona lifted her glasses but didn’t put them on. “Be better than that.”
Elizabeth nodded and sat in silence for a long moment. “I understand. I really do.”
Leona set her cup of tea down and gave Elizabeth a small, warm smile. “Come here, dear. Please.”
Although she couldn’t guess what Leona might want, Elizabeth stood and moved to her. “Yes?” she said.
Leona waved her forward even closer with a little inward flick of her hands, and before Elizabeth knew it, Leona was embracing her gently.
“You know how much I care about you,” Leona said. “And I just don’t want you to let your emotions get the better of you.”
Elizabeth felt tears come to her eyes as she hugged Leona in return. “I know,” she said, thinking all the while that what she wanted most was to make sure she didn’t let Leona down again. “I know,” she repeated.
Leona gave her a tiny squeeze that felt to Elizabeth, somehow, that her friend not only understood her but believed in her as well.
Elizabeth pulled back and wiped her eyes. “And I promise I’ll do my best to be patient with everyone who visits the library,” she said.
“Summer’s here!” Miles cawed, which made Elizabeth laugh. “Summer’s here!”
“Anybody home?” came a voice from beyond the office door. Leona and Elizabeth looked to see Freddy standing on the opposite side of the checkout counter waving his hands. “I can see you back there!”
“Freddy!” Elizabeth called, leaping up.
Leona waved him in with an arm. “Come on back here, Mr. Knox!”
Freddy strolled in, pushing at his glasses and gazing around. “Summer’s here!” Miles began to squawk again.
“Hey, you, little bird,” Freddy said. “Are they forcing you to read books back here?”
“What are you doing here?” Elizabeth said, laughing.
“Yes,” Leona said, “your visits to the library are so rare. But always very glad to see you.” She pointed to the teapot by way of offering to pour him a cup, but he shook his head. “And how is that project of yours coming along? I remember when Milton would demonstrate the camera obscura two or three times a day to interested guests.”
“Getting closer,” Freddy said. “It’s mainly getting the scaffolding all set up and the ropes arranged. A lot of testing the pulleys and cleaning up the screen, stuff like that, but I need to take a break right now while the electrician is doing some wiring.” He looked to Elizabeth. “Maybe we could visit the ice castle?”
Elizabeth turned to Leona. “I’m helping out here until noon.”
Leona squinted at her. “I think today you’re heading right up to your room, grabbing your jacket, and accompanying this young man outside. Understood?”
“I can handle that!” Elizabeth said with a laugh.
* * *
“Do you remember that journal by Marshall?” Elizabeth said to Freddy as they left the library.
“The humongous book with all the crazy stories in it?”
Elizabeth nodded. “I found some stuff in it about the secret passageways. Marshall says that aside from doors in Norbridge’s room and the candy kitchen and the library, there’s also another door somewhere, but Marshall doesn’t say where it is.”
“You are doing some serious detectivization.”
“I knew there had to be some information in that journal.”
Freddy stopped. “Hey, I just thought of something. You know that plaque you said you saw in the candy kitchen? Even if the other three doors themselves don’t lead anywhere anymore, maybe the plaques are still there. Like, maybe they never got removed.”
Elizabeth felt a tingle go down her spine. “You might be right. Hmm, if that’s the case, there might be a plaque somewhere in Norbridge’s room. I’m pretty sure the library plaque is long gone, though.”
“That must be what Rodney and his parents are looking for in the library,” Freddy said.
“The plaques spell out something that gives information about the hidden object!” Elizabeth said. “That’s got to be it.”
Freddy stopped walking and looked at her. “So all we have to do is find all four plaques.”
Elizabeth examined the carpet for a moment before looking up. “I’m developing a plan.”
“You know, every time you say that, something bad happens,” Freddy quipped.
Elizabeth laughed. “Let me grab my coat, and we can meet outside. I want to see that ice castle!”
* * *
The two of them spent the next hour exploring the ice castle, which had been built just behind Winterhouse on the huge field between the hotel and the shores of Lake Luna. As large as Grace Hall itself, it was a marvel of architecture and whimsy, with cupolas and turrets like an actual castle, and long corridors that led nowhere at all or steered a person through a maze of passages in which it was easy to get lost and hard to get out. Most of it was roofed in like an actual castle, with some walls done in blocks of clear ice—so that you could see a friend on the opposite side, even if you couldn’t get to him—and some in walls of snow. There were staircases everywhere, and long slopes at points, so that you could get from the third floor back down to the first simply by sitting and sliding, and there was one “room” on the second level where it was possible to jump off a ledge into a pile of snow kept fluffy and soft by some of the workers. The whole castle was alive with kids laughing and squealing with the fun of it all, and even plenty of adults were glad to wander the immense palace as their faces turned red with a pleasant chill.
“Norbridge has really improved this castle,” Freddy said to Elizabeth after they’d finally found their way out of a tangle of ice corridors. “The first year I came, it was just a dinky little house.”
Just as they left the ice castle and were heading back inside the hotel, Elizabeth looked up and saw Elana at a window at the landing on the second floor. She was looking at the two of them, but when she saw that they had seen her, she quickly turned away and disappeared.
“Did you see that?” Freddy said.
“I did. She’s avoiding us, I guess.” Elizabeth thought back to how oddly Mrs. Vesper had treated Elana. “Or maybe her grandmother isn’t letting her hang around us.”
Suddenly, a snowball whammed Elizabeth on the side of her head.
“Ow!” she yelped with shock and pain. Someone was laughing—in fact, even as she tried to make sense of what had happened, she realized she heard more than one person laughing—and she turned to see Rodney and his parents with s
miles on their faces, gaping at her.
“What did you do that for?” Freddy said.
“Nice aim, Rodney!” Mr. Powter said. Rodney stood with his fist pumped before him as though he’d just scored the winning shot for his basketball team.
Elizabeth shook her head and wiped the wetness from her face. “Are you crazy?” she said, turning on the three Powters. “Why did you do that?”
“Oh, it’s all in good outdoor fun,” Mrs. Powter said indignantly. She wore a huge white parka that made her look like a human marshmallow. “Rodney was just starting a game.”
“Well, he hit me in the face when I didn’t even know it was coming,” Elizabeth said. And then, before she knew it and because she was so angry, she said, “You ought to spend more time indoors looking for secret doorways, rather than bothering people outside.”
Mr. Powter’s face went grim. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, you do,” Freddy said. He pointed at Rodney. “Rodney Powter. Nerdy Towrope.”
Elizabeth continued wiping at her face; the stinging pain was subsiding. “We know a lot more about what you’re up to than you think.”
“Oh, is that right, Ms. Lizzy Bookworm?” Mr. Powter said. His wife turned to him with a severe look, and he immediately put a hand to his mouth.
“That’s the name from my email address,” Elizabeth said faintly, her stomach dropping. “How did you know that?”
Mrs. Powter stood up straight and raised her chin. She grabbed her husband’s hand and reached for Rodney. “We don’t need to listen to such nonsense,” she said. “Come on.” She yanked at the two others brusquely, and the trio turned and stalked away.
Elizabeth turned to Freddy. “How did they know my email address?” she said.
Freddy was staring blankly at the Powters as they departed. “No idea.” He turned to Elizabeth. “But you should talk to Norbridge about this right away.”
CHAPTER 20
TROUBLE ON CHRISTMAS EVE SMARTIES
The remainder of the day was uneventful, and Elizabeth tried to put the unsettling confrontation with the Powters out of her mind, even as she felt conflicted about discussing the Powter incident with Norbridge. A part of her wanted to, but another part wondered if he would respond with interest or tell her it was another thing he would “look into,” and so she decided to keep the matter to herself for now. After dinner and a movie (Bedknobs and Broomsticks, which Elizabeth thought was a bit silly but still decided to add to her list of “Movies I Want to See Again”) with Freddy in the small theater, and then cookies and hot chocolate by the fire in Winter Hall, Elizabeth retreated to her room for the night.
The next day—the one before Christmas Eve—was quiet as well. Elizabeth worked in the library; went sledding in the afternoon; and skated with Freddy (Elana finally came, for an hour only, and was unfailingly pleasant and acted as though nothing was strange about her disappearing for such long stretches of time). After dinner, Elizabeth attended a lecture with Freddy entitled “My Childhood at the World-Famous Thernstrumfk Puppet Theater,” delivered by a Swedish woman whose accent was so thick it was almost impossible to understand what she was saying. Elana and her grandmother were nowhere to be found that evening; same with Rodney Powter and his parents.
And then the next afternoon, as all the preparations for Christmas Eve dinner and the big party afterward moved into full swing, the general air of anticipation in the hotel became palpable. The staff seemed to be readying for an invasion. The kitchen crew scurried every which way to bring food and decorations into Winter Hall; the bellhops raced up and down the hallways to make sure the guests were comfortable and any last-minute gift deliveries were finalized; the small orchestra shuttled instruments and equipment into both Winter Hall and Grace Hall for the evening bash; and, basically, everyone in Winterhouse—staff and guests—built up to such a pitch, Elizabeth felt the roof might shoot off the top of the hotel.
An hour before dinner, Elizabeth headed to the portrait gallery, something she did most every day, even if only for a few minutes, to admire the painting of her mother. The door to the hall was open, and as she approached she saw two people inside looking at a painting, though the always dim gallery made it difficult to see who they were. When Elizabeth reached the doorway itself, she saw Elana and her grandmother standing before the portrait of Gracella.
Elizabeth retreated slightly so as not to be seen. Mrs. Vesper pointed to something in the painting before them and whispered to Elana, who nodded throughout. After a long few minutes, during which Elizabeth stood watching in silence, Mrs. Vesper took Elana’s hand, and the two of them headed for the far doorway and disappeared. Elizabeth, alone now, entered the gallery.
Why were they so fascinated by that painting? she thought. She was glad they hadn’t seen her. She moved to the painting of her mother and studied it. After a few minutes, she stood before the paintings of Norbridge and Gracella, almost right where Elana and her grandmother had been. And, once again, she couldn’t help examining Gracella’s face and her eyes and the steady gaze she held fixed, apparently, on something intriguing and powerful. “Tempted” was the word that came to Elizabeth’s mind, though she quickly dismissed this and thought of the relief she’d felt the year before when Gracella had finally been defeated. She was dead and gone, buried down in the cemetery in Havenworth.
Elizabeth pulled herself away from the portrait and set her thoughts on the evening ahead.
* * *
The Christmas Eve dinner of roasted ham, baked potatoes, steamed broccoli, and a dozen other dishes was the most delicious meal of the many delicious meals Elizabeth had eaten at Winterhouse. She sat with Freddy, the two puzzle men and their wives, and a young couple from Chile. Elana, in a spotless white gown and with a white tiara perched delicately atop her jet-black hair, sat with her grandmother at a table on the other side of the hall; Elizabeth didn’t see the Powters anywhere.
During dinner, Elizabeth wondered what Aunt Purdy and Uncle Burlap were doing that evening. The idea came to her that sometime in the next day or two, after all the excitement died down, she would write them a letter to say hello and let them know she was well.
“I am so full,” Freddy said, just as dessert arrived.
“Me too,” Elizabeth said. “What’s the opposite of ‘famished’?”
“‘Completely stuffed.’ But this pie looks so good.” He closed his eyes for a moment. “‘Famished.’ ‘Made fish.’” He patted himself on the chest. “I’m really good at this.”
“Or ‘as him fed,’” Elizabeth said.
Freddy smiled. “Not a bad anagram,” he said, nodding. “Not bad.”
The lights dimmed, and everyone turned to see Norbridge standing at the front of the hall before the enormous, blazing fireplace. He wore what he’d worn the previous Christmas—a green dinner jacket and a red bow tie—and as the crowd slowly quieted, he moved his eyes over the entire hall the way someone surveys a far horizon.
“It’s magic trick time,” Freddy whispered to Elizabeth.
“Good evening, dear guests!” Norbridge said, his voice echoing. “Tonight we are together here in Winter Hall, and we have shared a meal unlike any that will ever be served again.” He paused and glanced around. “Until tomorrow night.” The audience laughed.
“He said the exact same thing last year!” Elizabeth whispered to Freddy.
“He says it every year.”
Norbridge delivered a speech, and when he finished, he lifted his hands above his head. “And now,” he said as the lights dimmed even more, “a bit of magic.”
Two servers from the kitchen carried a small table out and placed it in front of Norbridge. This was all so familiar, Elizabeth prepared herself to see the same trick Norbridge had performed last Christmas. She looked more closely, though, and saw that instead of the two puppets Norbridge had used to tell a story of a young girl who had saved her family from an evil witch, there was only something that looked like a brown p
aper bag.
“A story!” Norbridge yelled, and then, quietly, “By way of disrupting your dessert.” Laughter arose from the guests. Norbridge moved his hands above the table the way people warm their hands over a fire. The room grew quiet again.
“There once was an enormous mansion far away in the snowy mountains.” The thing on the table began to stir. Norbridge lifted his hands to eye level, and a many-sided Chinese lantern rose from the table, inflating almost instantly. It glowed from within and was the color of old parchment and the size of a beach ball. And then, most amazing of all, it drifted above the table and hovered in front of Norbridge as the crowd gasped nearly as one.
“In the mansion lived a young woman with her mother and father,” Norbridge said, and he snapped his fingers. “And she was the light of their lives.” Within the floating lantern, a purple light came on. Elizabeth watched with astonishment.
“She was very happy,” Norbridge continued, “and she had always loved exploring the mansion. When she’d been younger she enjoyed making up games and stories and all sorts of mysteries for herself. Now, however, she was at an age where she was about to leave and create a life of her own elsewhere.” The purple light throbbed brightly.
“One day,” Norbridge said, “not long before she was set to depart, curiosity finally got the better of the young woman and she entered a room in the mansion that had always stayed locked. She found a key and walked inside, closing the door behind her.” Norbridge flicked his hand, and a red light blinked on within the lantern. “But all she found, hanging on a wall, was a painting of a woman—a portrait which, oddly, bore some resemblance to her. This thrilled the young woman—and frightened her a bit, too.” The red light grew brighter.
“The young woman approached the painting, and just as she drew near, she fell to the floor in a deep sleep.” The red light floated close to the purple light, and then began to dart about in tight circles. “The painting, it seemed, wanted to keep her in the room forever. And the young woman might have remained there, too, had she not heard, somewhere in her deepest thoughts, the voices of her mother and father calling to her.” The purple light grew brighter and larger; the red light flickered. “It took everything inside her to escape the power of the painting. And even though she had an almost overwhelming desire to remain asleep within that room, she heard the voices more loudly and shook herself awake. The young woman escaped and was reunited with her parents!”