Ner

by Amberlee Day

  Ned shifted in his seat, suddenly uncomfortable. The question that had plagued him ever since, at least whenever he didn’t push it away, was what he would have done if she hadn’t stormed out of the shop. What would he have done if she’d stayed?

  Whatever I did, she’d get all up in arms about it. That’s not hard to predict.

  He did feel bad he’d been gruff with her that morning in the dungeon, but she didn’t need to take it so personally. She was just being oversensitive, probably something to do with her overactive imagination. His frustration had nothing to do with her. He’d just had a run-in with Natalia, and before that found out his father had ordered expensive new linens for the castle without consulting him. They were good quality sheets and towels, but not at all consistent with Demander’s style. Ned wasted hours arranging to exchange them.

  As far as Ned could concentrate without thinking about the book he wanted written, and catching himself watching Beverly, he thought the lecture went well. People seemed interested, and several asked questions so there was a discussion. Dr. Tune looked like she was enjoying herself, a good sign that she might be willing to stay on for more in-depth research and do the Demander book. Yes, this was a good idea, Ned congratulated himself. The book was that much closer to being written, and he was further on his path to preserving the castle’s legacy.

  Dr. Tune was just wrapping things up to finish. “Any last questions?” she asked. The room was silent, but before she could conclude, a voice boomed from the doorway, awkward with forced friendliness.

  “I have a question,” Ned’s father announced. All eyes turned toward him, and Ned’s stomach dropped. This couldn’t be good. The tall, imposing man walked to the front of the room, towering over the slightly shrunken Dr. Tune. He smiled down at her, which confused and disturbed Ned. What was he up to now?

  Dr. Tune clasped her hands together, a look of forbearance set into her wrinkled features. “Yes, Mr. Sterling?”

  Ned’s father, of course, didn’t pick up on Dr. Tune’s shift in mood. He wouldn’t; he wasn’t that sensitive to how others felt. “We’re so honored to have you here, including Demander Castle in your book.” He looked at the small audience more than at Dr. Tune. It was unlikely that even the strangers there would call him sincere. “I understand you’re … considering writing a separate book just on our little castle here.” He made a sound that Ned knew was meant to be a friendly laugh, but it came out sinister. “Of course, we’d love to have you stay at Demander as long as it would take to complete research for such a book. And in that vein, as owner of Demander Castle, I’m offering free room and meals for both you, Dr. Tune, and your lovely niece, Miss Tune.”

  Ned couldn’t have moved right then if the room burst into flame, he was so shocked. It wasn’t that he believed for a moment that his father had suddenly grown an appreciation for what Ned was trying to accomplish, but he couldn’t fathom what other agenda the older man might be working from. And while a little voice in his head warned not to trust it, relief that his father was for some reason on board swept through him like fresh air.

  “I accept,” Dr. Tune replied without hesitation, extending a hand to Ned’s father and inciting the listeners to applaud.

  A short laugh escaped Ned. He didn’t need to worry about the professor. She was a sharp cookie, and surely saw that something else was motivating her new benefactor. But she also made sure to accept him in front of witnesses, Ned was sure, just in case his father tried to revoke his offer. Smart lady, right there.

  Ned’s eyes shot back to Beverly. His father had included her in the offer. What did she think? He couldn’t tell from her profile, other than she wasn’t smiling and her foot had stopped bouncing. He could easily imagine her being against it. It wasn’t until her head suddenly turned his way, her eyes landing on his as if she’d been very aware exactly where he sat, that he knew for sure: Beverly wasn’t happy with this new development. Not happy at all.

  The second they left the library, Beverly’s interrogation began. “What does it mean that you’re going to stay on?” she asked Aunt Affie. “For how long? When you said you were thinking about Ned’s offer, I didn’t think you were serious.”

  “Why in the world wouldn’t I be serious? This is what I love to do, after all.”

  “Yes, but …” How could she put this delicately? “Shouldn’t you just focus on one book at a time? Make sure you get one finished before committing to another one?”

  Beverly’s aunt stopped in the hall and gave her the stink-eye. “Are you saying I might die, so I shouldn’t think I have time to write two books?”

  Yes. “No, Aunt Affie. But don’t you think it might wear you out trying to do so much?”

  “I can pace myself.” She started walking again. “And these two books will be so different from one another. One will be an overview, and the other’s more in-depth, really scrutinizing the makings and usage behind a new-world castle.”

  “How in-depth of a book are you talking?”

  “Now, Beverly,” Aunt Affie said, beginning her slow ascent up the stairs to their rooms. She took Beverly’s arm for additional support. “I suppose I’ll get as in-depth as I find material for. And from what I’ve seen, there’s a lot of documented history with this place.”

  “There just can’t be that much from a historical standpoint. I know what you’re thinking … I saw the list of famous guests, and the whole story about the Scottish castle stones, and all that. But really, would there be enough for an entire book?”

  When they’d reached the second floor, Aunt Affie looked around to make sure they were alone. “It’s the diaries I found that I think are really going to prove a gold mine.”

  Beverly drew back. This was news to her. “What diaries? Where did you find them?”

  “In that library,” Aunt Affie said, continuing her walk down the long hallway. “If you hadn’t been off playing with a rosebush, you might have discovered them yourself.”

  Beverly grimaced, but opted to ignore the dig. Her scratches were still tender, after all. “I spent time helping you today, Aunt Affie. You never showed me any diaries.”

  “Ned didn’t show them to me, either. I’m not sure he’s noticed them, or I think he would have.”

  “And you haven’t pointed them out to Ned, I’m guessing. Why?”

  Aunt Affie leaned toward Beverly, her wrinkly eyelids contrasting with the sharp look. “When someone has a stake in how their family’s history is presented, they like to pick and choose what the biographer sees. Those journals are straight from the source, and I don’t want anyone deciding which ones I see and which I don’t.”

  “Got it.” Beverly nodded. “And where are they hidden in the library?”

  “They’re on the bookshelf, very bottom under the fiction section.”

  “Fiction section?” Beverly’s eyebrow rose. “Anything good?”

  “I didn’t look. I managed to get one of them out—they’re hard to reach when you don’t bend well. It was a journal from the castle’s original mistress, Tess Demander. She was the builder’s wife.”

  “Okay.” Beverly took the antique key to her room from her dress pocket and unlocked the door. “Does she talk about the castle being built?”

  “Yes, she does. Talks a lot about what choices were made in building, and why. There’s a lot about what they were trying to do, recreate something of an old-world royalty sense in a new land. Wonderful quotes, very in keeping with West Coast castles being built by new money trying to create an old-money type legacy.”

  “You’ve seen that before in other castles, though,” Beverly pointed out, slipping off her sandals. “What makes this special?”

  Aunt Affie landed in a chair, exhaling hard as she sat. She seemed to be wearing out earlier every day. “Seen it, but not seen it so well documented, with usable quotes and references to where different pieces came from. The Scottish stones, for instance. They didn’t come from one castle. Some came from ruins formerly own
ed by a laird. Today they’d probably be protected, but in the 1890s you could apparently buy them.”

  “And the rest?”

  A girlish smile lifted Aunt Affie’s cheeks. “From an old carriage house on castle grounds where Tess’s grandmother was a lady’s maid.”

  “A lady’s maid! You’re kidding! Wow, there’s got to be an interesting story there.”

  “I hope so. Here. Come unzip my dress.”

  Beverly stepped behind her to help with the clasp and high zipper. No way would Aunt Affie be able to do a task like this without help. Of course, she didn’t need to wear something so difficult to get in and out of, but she definitely needed help with some things. “How are you going to manage this, Aunt Affie? Are you thinking I’ll stay here with you?”

  “No, certainly not.”

  Beverly sat down on the bed opposite so she could try to read her aunt’s expression. “You’re not still thinking Lavinia’s going to be a help. She’s in Costa Rica now, working on her Travel Central America series.”

  “I know that.” She patted Beverly’s knee in a very old-ladyish way, very unlike Aunt Affie. “Don’t you worry about me. I’ll figure things out.”

  “Aunt Affie, you stinker! You’re trying to guilt me into this.”

  Her aunt’s innocent expression surfaced. “Who me?” She smiled sweetly. “Let’s talk about this more tomorrow. I’m so tired. Go on out and let an old lady get changed.”

  She’d already stepped out of her dress and walked across the room in her slip to the dresser. Beverly picked up the dress and hung it up before heading to her own room. Just as she was about to close the door, she asked, “You remember I have a bookshop back home?”

  “And Jill is doing a perfectly fine job watching it for you. It’s not hard.”

  “Julie, Aunt Affie. It’s Julie.”

  “Good night, Beverly.”

  She sighed. She was pretty certain she heard a victory bell ringing in her little-old-lady aunt’s tone.

  The castle plumbing, an afterthought when the Demanders built their castle a hundred and thirty years ago, led to some of the guest rooms not having enough space for the added facilities. Beverly’s room, Room 218, was one of them. Her personal bathroom was located across the hallway behind a door marked “Bath for Room 218,” and housed an enormous claw-foot bathtub. She’d already had a shower earlier, but decided she’d put her hair up in a bun and take a steamy bubble bath.

  Ten minutes after wishing her aunt good night, Beverly was chin-deep in hot water and citrusy bubbles. Heaven. All she needed now was some hot cocoa and a book, but she didn’t have either one. The bookshop she’d planned to explore in town got delayed when the rainstorm hit. An image of Ned at the lecture earlier slid into her thoughts, his crisp suit and perfect boyish hair, but she pushed the image away. While he’d looked surprised at his father’s announcement, he seemed awfully happy about it too. Didn’t he realize that Aunt Affie was old? She wouldn’t be able to walk away from an opportunity like this, but she just didn’t have the stamina to do it alone, either. Selfish man.

  She inhaled deeply, her thoughts lingering on Ned. It was the bubble bath that did it. The scent reminded her of him, though there was something woodsy mixed in with his citrus smell, too. Woodsy, tangy … hard to forget.

  Books, that’s what she’d been thinking of. Maybe she’d have to try the town bookstore again tomorrow, because she hated to be without a book.

  With the delicious steam filling the air, Beverly relaxed into the warmth. However she felt about it, her aunt had agreed to stay at Demander for who knew how long to gather book research. As far as assistants went, Beverly was all she had. Well, and Lavinia, but she was too busy with her own projects to be relied on much.

  Even if Beverly wanted to help, she didn’t see how she could. No matter what Aunt Affie thought of her business, Beverly did put some effort into running it. She couldn’t leave Julie to run it and Edward to keep the books forever. They had their own lives to lead.

  Again Beverly breathed deeply. Funny how clear things became in the bathtub. She’d just have to tell Aunt Affie she couldn’t help. Maybe with a free room at the castle her aunt could afford to hire someone. Yes, that’s it. Maybe someone from town. That would solve everyone’s problems.

  This time a picture popped into her mind of Ned, sopping wet in the menswear store, holding her arms and looking at her lips, just as if he were about to …

  A noise disturbed her peaceful bath, and her eyes flew open. One of the things Ned was proud of about the old castle was that the original locks and doorknobs were still in use. It was silly; he made such a big deal about it. When Beverly heard a clicking sound coming from the bathroom door, she instinctively sank down a little farther, but her eyes stayed on the doorknob. She stared at it so hard she didn’t blink.

  At first nothing happened, and she exhaled air she didn’t realize she’d been holding in. No sooner had she let her guard down, though, when the doorknob shifted and the door opened. Beverly’s heart flew into her throat, and she almost screamed.

  Fortunately, she hadn’t only locked the door, but thought to use the chain as well. It was a short chain, so the door only opened a fraction, too little for someone to even see inside. Still …

  “Hey!” she called. “There’s someone in here.” When no one answered, she added, “The sign on the door says 218. Maybe the keys fit more than one lock, but you have the wrong room. Would you please shut the door and leave?”

  Again, no one answered. She held her breath again, listening for whoever was there to walk away, or breathe, or something, but there was nothing. Her heart rate gradually slowed as she got used to the idea that the door must have come unlatched on its own, which explained why the chains were added in the first place. It made sense.

  By the time the bathwater had cooled and she got out and dried off, she was glad no one had really been there to see what her overactive imagination had done this time. It was only when she returned to the hallway, looking left and right to be sure she was alone, that she realized another smell mingled with the sunny citrus of her bubble bath: vanilla. Warm vanilla, with just a hint of a burnt smell attached. Her thoughts spun. Now where had she smelled that before?

  Chapter 11

  Beverly wondered if there was an old dumbwaiter she could use to get her laundry to and from the dungeon. She and Aunt Affie hadn’t washed clothes since Oregon, so the two bags she carried were heavy. Maybe she’d look around for one, at least to haul the clean clothes upstairs after she finished.

  A noisy group of workers filled the kitchen that morning, and several smiled at Beverly as she passed through. The head chef, Floyd, was there, too. “Hey, what can I do for you?” he asked.

  “Sorry to bother you. The guest laundry room is being used, and it looks like it will be for a while. Would it be possible if I used one down here?”

  He shook his thumb in the direction of the utility room. “Have at it. You can use the ones on the far right; those are for the kitchen. The others are for the maids. Just don’t leave things in the machines when they’re done, if you don’t mind. We’ll have our own laundry to run at some point.”

  Beverly waved. “No problem. Thanks.”

  She hurried in and had a batch going within a few minutes. The machine said thirty-five minutes, so she’d just have to make sure she was back by then. They’d had breakfast early in their room, and Aunt Affie was already in the library working, so Beverly had some time to go help her.

  Before she left, she lingered at the table and chair where Ned had cleaned her scratches. They hadn’t been deep and were already healing well. If he just hadn’t been so rude while he helped her, it might not have been bad spending a few minutes with a handsome man in a dungeon. Her sense of romance and adventure felt cheated that he’d ruined the moment for her. No, Ned was no romantic hero. He was self-centered and moody, not far from the spoiled playboy she’d suspected him to be even if he said he wasn’t wealthy.
Beverly definitely preferred her heroes fictional.

  She checked the machine. Thirty-four more minutes. Hurrying back through the kitchen to the stairs, she told herself that she’d have to pay attention and not forget to come back in time for it to finish.

  Dr. Tune had said yes on the book, and when Ned popped his head into the library, she and Beverly were already hard at work. Of course Beverly had to look up and frown at him, but otherwise the situation was all fine and good. Everything so far was going as he hoped it would, even better now that his father had agreed to allow them to stay for free. Ned wanted to ask his father what changed his mind, but decided against it. Why rock the boat when it was going just where you wanted it to?

  After a meeting with Adam to go over the latest list of small fixes needed around the place, Ned made a few phone calls before heading down to approve Floyd’s proposed menu plan. It was a formality; Floyd knew what he was doing, but Ned’s established protocol was to sign off on it.

  The kitchen was hopping as usual. Ned helped himself to a biscuit and sausage before meeting his chef at the corner desk.

  Floyd glanced up from his menu. “Skip breakfast again?” he asked.

  “Just forgot to come get it, and these are too good to miss. So show me what you’ve got.”

  The menu didn’t take long to go over as Floyd had it all under control. When they were finished, Ned leaned back in his seat, his vision taking in the utility room beyond.

  “What’s with the laundry bags? Those don’t look like ours.”

  “They belong to that tall, gorgeous woman you brought down here for the first aid kit.”