by Amberlee Day
“I think it’s—” Ned began, but she was already almost out the door.
“Don’t tell me. I’m going to go to the dungeon to find out for myself. Maybe Lloyd will sneak me a preview.”
“Floyd,” Ned and Beverly said together, but she was already gone.
Ned didn’t waste the moment alone with Beverly. He pulled her close to him and kissed her, sending happy shivers down her neck. When he gave her a chance, she whispered, “Do you smell that?”
“Don’t tell me you want to go sneak a cookie, too,” he said.
“No, I don’t think it’s coming from the kitchen.”
Ned’s eyes wandered upward as he inhaled deeply. “Vanilla?”
“I mean, I suppose it could be coming from the kitchen. But there’s something I found in one of your mother’s journals that may explain it, too.”
“What’s that?” He still held her close, but shuffled them both over to the love seat and pulled her down with him.
“It said that a vanilla scent was associated with ghosts in Demander.”
Ned’s eyebrow rose. “Don’t tell me you want to start advertising Demander as a ghost-hunting location.”
“No. Well, maybe. I just thought it was interesting. Especially since the vanilla smell here has a bit of real history.”
When she didn’t explain right away, he kissed her again.
“You just don’t want to hear the ghost story,” she said.
“If it’s part of the history, I’m all ears.”
Beverly sat up a little straighter and made sure she had his attention. “It all started with Tess and Nathan Demander’s daughter, Clarise.”
“Okay.”
“Apparently a young man named Allen was courting her. She hadn’t decided how she felt about him yet, when one day she was making a vanilla cake from scratch for a church picnic he was taking her to.”
“Ah, vanilla.”
“That’s right. She was making it in the dungeon kitchen, but the cake burned. When Allen found out and saw how upset she was, he put on an apron and they made another cake together. It was then, with the smell of burnt vanilla surrounding them, that she knew he was a kind man and that she loved him.”
“So now there’s a vanilla ghost in the castle?” he teased.
“Ever since then, lovers have had the scent of vanilla surround them when they’re together in the castle.” Or maybe even just when they’re thinking of the one they love, Beverly thought with a smile. She remembered that moment after the old Bath for Room 218 door slipped out of place, and afterward she had smelled vanilla.
“That’s a romantic story,” he said. “Isn’t it? Doesn’t it make you feel romantic?”
“It does!” she beamed, glad that he thought so too.
“Because here we are, in the library, on this rather significant love seat, and …” He inhaled again. “Smelling vanilla. It feels like the perfect time to ask you a question.”
Beverly’s head began to spin. “What question’s that?”
Ned didn’t ask it right away, though. First he got off the couch, and went down on one knee.
“Ned …” Her heart was suddenly racing faster than she could think.
“Beverly Tune,” he said, “I wasn’t looking to fall in love. I had a goal to preserve the legacy of Demander Castle. I never expected to see that happen and meet the girl I’d never dared to dream of in the process.”
Ned’s hair, so tidy on the sides but always so adorably messy on the top, drew her fingers up to touch him, first his hair, then his face. The flirty look had left his eye, and he looked at her like that simple act had put a spell on him. Oh, she did love him!
“Go on,” she told him, enjoying his reaction. “You said you had a question.”
“I did.” He cleared his throat, refocusing. “Beverly, would you marry me? Oh, hold on.”
It took him a moment to fish the tiny satchel from his pocket. When he did, he turned it upside down and an heirloom ring dropped into his hand.
Beverly’s hand went to her mouth. “It’s beautiful! Where did you get it?”
“In my mother’s tower. I don’t know whose it was, or what the story is behind it, but it’s certainly old.”
Beverly giggled. “So it has a bit of history …”
“And a bit of mystery, yes,” Ned said. “A perfect combination.”
“We’ll have to create some new stories around it.” She held out her hand for him to put it on. “And yes, Ned, I want to marry you.”
He kissed her, even though Aunt Affie had apparently returned and cheered from the doorway.
“Hip-hip-hooray!” she said, taking a bite of cookie. “It’s about time.”
Beverly kissed Ned back, so glad to have this wonderful man in her life, the scent of vanilla hovering in the air, assuring her that this was a love that was meant to be. Emotion choked her, and the words in Beverly’s heart wouldn’t come.
He winked at her. “Do you suppose she’s going to want to come with us on our honeymoon?” he whispered, nodding toward Aunt Affie.
“If we go to a castle, definitely.”
When he laughed, the sound warmed her heart. No doubt about it, her love for Ned Sterling—not a playboy, or a millionaire, but now a castle owner and hers—would be the best story of her life. And he wasn’t even fiction.
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About the Author
Amberlee Day is married and has five children. She writes from her Pacific Northwest home, deep in an evergreen forest. Familiar sounds that accompany her writing time: children’s voices, her oldest playing the piano, the birds nesting in her hanging baskets, a ferry’s horn, and occasionally the ponderous crash of black bears as they eat their way through blackberry thickets.
Also, a dog or two snoring at her feet.
“I’ve always wanted to write romance. After being distracted by other writing opportunities over the years, I finally came back to the best kind of story there is: boy meets girl.”
Amberlee graduated from Brigham Young University with a degree in English and Journalism.
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