The Secrets of Winterhouse

by Ben Guterson

  Over the next few minutes, the remaining words in the rectangles resolved for two of them, now that they understood the key. “Prison-Dodge Scorn” became “second door spring”; “Trim-Room Shudder” became “third door summer”; and “Flood-Furor Halt” became “fourth door fall.”

  “It’s easy once you know what’s going on,” Freddy said. “Now that we know what the words are, it seems sort of obvious.” He became serious once more as he examined the seal. “But what does it mean? And the numbers, too?”

  “That’s what I can’t figure out.”

  Freddy studied the seal with renewed interest, staring deeply at the inscriptions. “Hey,” he said, “what if the word ‘steps’ really does mean ‘steps’? And if each set of words is sort of like a title for one of the four doors, maybe the numbers are like directions to the doors.”

  Elizabeth’s eyes widened. “You think those are the number of steps someone would take to get to each door?”

  Freddy shrugged. “Let’s try it out. We know where the winter door is. It’s in the candy kitchen, so if we start right here on the seal and walk one hundred twenty-six steps—”

  “To the left!” Elizabeth yelled. “Sinister! The left side! That’s got to be it! Come on. Let’s write down the numbers and give it a try.”

  They walked 126 steps down the corridor, at which point they came to a T and turned right to pace off 38 steps before making another turn. They followed each of the numbers in turn and counted off the steps, all leading to the candy kitchen. And although the door to the kitchen was closed when they arrived—so that they were unable to count off the final steps—it was clear the numbers would lead to the Walnut Door.

  “Amazing!” Freddy said. “The seal is basically a map to the four doors.”

  “We’ll know for sure after we try the next one,” Elizabeth said. “The spring door is the one that was in the library.”

  They raced back to the seal, and after they started at the second rectangle and—heading left at the outset—followed the steps, it led them to the locked door of the library.

  “If we could keep going, the steps would take us to the wall where I saw the plaque,” Elizabeth said. “There’s no doubt the seal is a map.”

  “Which means we can figure out the location of the two other doors now,” Freddy said.

  Elizabeth’s eyes went bright. “Let’s do it!”

  The next door, however—the summer one—proved troublesome. Unlike the doors in the candy kitchen and library, of which they were already aware, the location of the third door was unknown, and so at each fork, it was unclear if they needed to turn left or right. After much backtracking and many false turns and treks up and down staircases, they worked through a path that took them to the workshop on the third floor where Freddy had perfected the Walnut WonderLog. They stood in the hallway; Freddy didn’t have his key on him.

  “This can’t be right,” Elizabeth said.

  Freddy was just as puzzled. “There’s no door. I’ve been in there a million times.”

  Elizabeth studied her paper. “We must have made a mistake somewhere.”

  “Hey, we know the last door is in Norbridge’s room,” Freddy said. “Why don’t we go through the steps and see if that one works? Then we can figure out this third one.”

  “Good idea.”

  Fifteen minutes later, after walking through the steps for the fourth door, they did, indeed, find themselves in front of Norbridge’s apartment.

  “Next time I’m in here, I’ll walk off the rest of it,” Elizabeth said, “and I bet I’ll find the door.”

  “Let me get the key to my workshop,” Freddy said. “At least we can look in there and see if we notice anything having to do with the other door.”

  The first thing they did when they were inside Freddy’s workshop—still cluttered with sawhorses and tables and boards and tools—was pace off the numbers from the seal, though the final steps were blocked by several crates set against the wall.

  “I never really thought much about this stuff,” Freddy said as they pushed boxes aside and stacked them away from the wall.

  Once they cleared all the boxes and slid two pieces of plywood out of the way, they saw, painted white like the wall itself so that it was almost unnoticeable, a door. It was a smooth white panel of wood set within a molded sill; even its knob had been painted white.

  “It was here the whole time,” Freddy said. He sounded like he’d turned a corner and found that his house had appeared. “I can’t believe it.”

  “Incredible,” Elizabeth said. She put a hand to the door and ran her fingers across it lightly, the way you might check a wall you had painted the day before to test if it was dry. She pulled her hand away and studied the door before trying to turn the handle. It was fixed in place.

  “I wonder why it’s painted over,” she said.

  “Maybe they wanted to make it look like the wall,” Freddy said.

  Her eyes fixed on something above the top sill that was slightly raised, though just as white as the door itself.

  “That’s got to be another plaque,” she said. “Hey, don’t you have some turpentine or something in here?”

  “Right here,” Freddy said, grabbing a bottle of turpentine and a towel from the table.

  Elizabeth slid a crate in front of the door and stepped onto it, wet one of the towels, and then began scrubbing at the paint. It washed off slowly, revealing a brass plaque inscribed with faint letters. Once she’d rubbed away the last streaks of paint, she hopped down from the crate and stood back to read what was written there:

  SUMMER

  THEN ALTERS TO AN OBJECT STRONG

  ITS POWER USED FOR RIGHT OR WRONG

  “We found the door,” Elizabeth said. “If I can find the one in Norbridge’s room, I’ll know the entire poem. It’s got to be the explanation for whatever is in the passageways.”

  “I still can’t believe this door was here all along,” Freddy said.

  Elizabeth examined the plaque. And then she stepped forward, leaned into the door, and placed her ear against it; instantly, she heard the faint humming noise again, like a motor starting in the distance. She pressed against the door more closely and listened.

  “What do you hear?” Freddy said. He stepped forward and put his ear against the door. After a moment he backed away and shook his head. “Nothing,” he said with a shrug.

  “A low humming noise,” Elizabeth said. “Don’t you hear it?”

  Freddy moved his head to the door again and then gave a frown. “I don’t hear a thing.”

  “It’s pretty clear,” Elizabeth said. An idea came to her: Maybe I’m the only one who can hear it, just like I was the only one who could find The Book. And then this thought was broken by a tremor that ran through her and that made her jerk her head away from the door. Someone was approaching.

  “Freddy!” she said. “Quickly! Let’s cover this up!”

  Within seconds, they had slid a piece of plywood in front of the door and were restacking some boxes.

  “Hey!” someone said from the doorway, and when Elizabeth and Freddy looked, there stood Rodney and his parents, staring at them.

  CHAPTER 27

  THE VIEW FROM THE DARK ROOM METHOD

  “What are you guys doing?” Rodney said indignantly. Mr. and Mrs. Powter looked as though they’d caught Elizabeth and Freddy stealing something.

  “This is my workshop,” Freddy said. “And it’s private.” He and Elizabeth moved slowly from the stack of boxes they’d arranged.

  Mr. Powter examined the room the way a person looks at a home he might want to buy. “I wasn’t informed that this space was closed to guests,” he said.

  “Yes,” Mrs. Powter said. “And we’d like to take a look around.”

  Elizabeth took a deep breath. “I know you’re up to something,” she said, “and I know what you’re looking for.”

  “Oh, and just what is that?” Mrs. Powter said. She began glancing to the corners
of the room. “And just why are the two of you so jittery?”

  “Why don’t you leave us alone?” Freddy said.

  “Oh! Mr. Inventor finally sticks up for his girlfriend!” Rodney said.

  “She’s not my girlfriend!” Freddy said. “And you all need to leave.”

  “Now, look here, young man,” Mr. Powter said, “we are paying guests of the hotel and can go where we like.”

  Mrs. Powter took another survey of the room, running her eyes across the walls. “Perhaps there’s something interesting in this room.” She looked to Elizabeth with a cruel smile. “Don’t you think?”

  Rodney leered at Elizabeth like a gremlin, his eyes full of hatred. “I think so,” he said.

  “The lovely Powter family!” came Norbridge’s voice from the corridor, and then Norbridge himself stood in the doorway. He looked to Elizabeth and Freddy. “And two more of my favorites, as well! Greetings, one and all!”

  “These two children inform us we are not allowed in this room,” Mr. Powter said, pulling himself up to full height and wheeling on Norbridge.

  “They would be correct,” Norbridge said gently, stroking his beard.

  “And what is the reason for that?” Mrs. Powter said. “It’s only a little workshop.”

  “A little workshop that is off-limits,” Norbridge said, the wisp of a smile still on his face as he spoke calmly. “Except to my designated inventor and my granddaughter.” He backed away from the door and swept his arm into the corridor. “And now I invite you to prepare yourselves for dinner.” He winked. “We are serving pork chops tonight. Very tasty.”

  Mr. and Mrs. Powter stood as if in shock. Mrs. Powter began shaking her head in disbelief. “This is very poor treatment, Mr. Falls,” she said. “Very poor.”

  “Let’s get out of here,” Rodney said. “Losers. At a stupid hotel.” He stalked out the door.

  “This isn’t the end of this,” Mr. Powter said to no one in particular before he and his wife followed their son.

  Norbridge squinted at their backs as they left but said nothing. He stepped into the room and examined the wall with the boxes before it; it seemed he’d already dismissed the Powters from his thoughts.

  “How’s Kiona doing?” Elizabeth said to fill the heavy silence.

  “She gave us a scare,” Norbridge said, “but it looks like she’s going to be fine.” He looked to Elizabeth. “What’s going on in here?”

  “Why didn’t you just tell me about Gracella from the start?” she said.

  Norbridge inhaled deeply. “Ah, I see. Elizabeth, to be frank, it’s not the sort of thing I wanted to share with my granddaughter. I’m aware you spoke with Jackson about it, and I’m hoping you can forgive me. I simply wanted to spare you unnecessary worry.” He curled his lips. “Perhaps I should have told you, and I’m sorry if you feel hurt about it.”

  Elizabeth felt anger rising in her again. On the one hand, it made sense that Norbridge had spared her the details—and he was apologizing—but it also made her feel like a little kid, like someone he didn’t trust enough to handle the truth. Her eyes began to burn, but she told herself she wasn’t going to lose her temper and she wasn’t going to cry.

  “I think she’s trying to come back somehow,” Elizabeth said. “And I think Mrs. Vesper and the Powters have something to do with it. They even knew my email address, and Freddy and I think maybe they hacked my account. Maybe that’s how they knew I was coming back to Winterhouse and a bunch of other things. Maybe they’re helping Gracella, just like the Hiemses.”

  “We know where all the doors are, too,” Freddy said, “and we figured out the Winterhouse seal.”

  Elizabeth looked to Freddy, dumbfounded—but also a little glad—he’d laid everything out so starkly.

  Norbridge gave a long, loud sigh, like he’d rolled off his bed onto the floor and was trying to make sense of his condition. He put a hand to his brow and began to rub the skin there. “I’m getting too old for this,” he said, with just enough lightness that Elizabeth felt reassured. And then he dropped his hand and said, “Just tell me everything.”

  Which she did over the next several minutes. And when she was done, Norbridge simply nodded and said, “Three things. Stay completely away from Elana and Mrs. Vesper and the Powters. And keep the door to this workshop locked at all times.”

  Elizabeth was confused. “That’s only two things.”

  Norbridge placed his hand over his heart. “And stay out of trouble. For your grandfather’s sake.” He fixed Elizabeth with his gaze. “I believe you, though.”

  * * *

  The evening passed without incident—and so did the next day. In fact, Elizabeth didn’t see Elana or her grandmother or the Powters at all; she and Freddy spent the time sledding, racing the trains in the glassed-in diorama in the lobby, and talking things over in the camera obscura room while Freddy worked. In the evening they attended a lecture in Grace Hall (“Five and a Half Years in Ruben Maesta’s Chocolate Emporium”), and then they both turned in early.

  Things calmed down—but ominously, Elizabeth felt: The days were pleasant only on the surface. There was another very interesting lecture she and Freddy attended—“The Life of Edgar Cayce—Man of Mystery,” delivered by a man from India who wore a beret and spoke with a charming English accent; they also attended two of the concerts in Grace Hall, watched a movie (The Sea Charmer, about a doomed mermaid and a pilfered bottle of rare absinthe), and made two visits to the swimming pool. She noticed a delivery of luggage and boxes for the Thatchers, who were said to be arriving just after the New Year; she visited Kiona, too, briefly, after she returned from the hospital, and she was doing well.

  Three days after the discovery of the door in Freddy’s workshop, Elizabeth awoke to find a note under her door that read:

  Come to the camera obscura room before breakfast!—Freddy

  She dressed quickly and headed upstairs. When she entered the camera obscura room, Freddy was on the platform with a rope in one hand and a wrench in the other.

  “Elizabeth!” he called. “Come on up. I have something to show you.”

  “Looking pretty good in here,” she said as she walked up the ramp. The scaffolding had been removed, and the room looked open and bright.

  They talked for a few minutes about the movie from the night before, and all the while Freddy was distractedly fiddling with the ropes and pulleys and adjusting the huge white disk of the screen itself before them.

  “So why did you want me to come here?” Elizabeth said.

  Freddy said nothing, merely pointed to the ceiling. He had a glint in his eye as he turned to the panel mounted beside the platform and flipped a switch; the room went dark aside from a small, dim light in the panel itself.

  “Watch,” Freddy said. With a pull of the rope beside him and, high above in the ceiling, a sort of gulping sound like the noise a flue makes in a chimney when it’s opened and a fire is about to be lit, the white disk in front of Elizabeth and Freddy was instantly alive with a winter scene: an ice-coated lake in the foreground and, beyond that, a line of brilliant snow-clad mountains gleaming under a blue morning sky. Elizabeth let out a gasp of astonishment. It felt less that a picture had been projected onto the disk in the style of a movie screen and more that, through some animating magic, the white surface of the shallow bowl had burst into life: a world of winter color and vibrancy and light had been waiting to press itself into the white screen and had now blossomed instantly.

  “Incredible!” Elizabeth said, taking in the scene before her, so crisp and alive it seemed to be trembling, the way things look from the edge of some high cliff or mountaintop.

  “I told you!” Freddy said. “Awesome, huh?”

  A sudden realization struck Elizabeth. “Hey, that’s Lake Luna!”

  “Yeah, we’re looking at what’s outside Winterhouse right now. The box on the roof is like a camera, and we’re seeing the video here!” He gestured to the white disk. “Watch.”

  He
gave a tug of the rope, and suddenly the lake drew even closer, as though Freddy had swooped some airborne camera instantly nearer to the lake by a few hundred yards. He pulled on a second rope, working the two in tandem, and the image on the disk grew smaller and then, with a blur, changed into a view of the sledding hill and, beyond it, a slope of snow-clad hemlocks.

  “You can look all around,” Freddy said. He tugged at the ropes again, and suddenly the sledding hill filled the entire screen. “You can zoom in”—he pulled again, and the sledding hill became a small streak in the middle of a vast spread of snow and trees—“or you can zoom out! Whatever you want. I’m just letting more or less light come in through the little hole on the box up on the roof.”

  Elizabeth stared in pleasant shock. It seemed Freddy had brought an entire small world to life on the disk before them, and she was overwhelmed by what she was seeing. “I didn’t really know what to expect,” Elizabeth said, “even after all the times you showed me this stuff. But now! Wow, this is incredible!”

  They spent the next half hour looking at the world around Winterhouse, all revealed on the white screen. Twice cars approached on the road to the hotel, and Freddy showed Elizabeth a trick where, by holding a piece of paper above the disk at the point where the car was projected, it looked like Freddy was carrying it on the paper itself. He did the same thing when they noticed a bellhop walking behind the hotel toward the lake—Freddy hovered the piece of paper over the screen, and the man appeared to be walking on the paper rather than the snow outside.

  “That’s too funny!” Elizabeth said.

  “This thing is so cool. People are going to love coming up here to check it out.”

  Freddy became silent for a moment. “Hey, Elizabeth,” he said. “There’s something I’ve been wondering about. Remember how when we found the door in my workshop and then you said we needed to hurry and cover it up? It was almost like you knew the Powters were coming.”

  Elizabeth had been wondering for so long about whether she ought to tell Freddy about the feeling and the power associated with it, and now he was practically inviting her to explain. Aside from Norbridge and Kiona, no one else knew about it. “It was just a kind of feeling I had,” she said. “I don’t know how to explain it. Sometimes I sort of sense things before they happen.” She wasn’t sure how much more to reveal. “I can even make things move.”