by R. S. Lively
He steps into the passageway, and after a few seconds of hesitation, I follow. We start down the tight, hot corridor. It feels like there is almost no air in here, and I have a hard time wrapping my head around the idea of people using it while working. This space would be suffocating without air conditioning. At least it doesn't feel damp and musty like the basement. Except for a few cobwebs clinging to the edges near the ceiling, there isn't anything in the passage at all.
Despite this, an eerie shiver crawls down my spine the further we get from the bright light of the entry behind the vanity. I step closer to Cade until I can feel the warmth of his body through his shirt. I'm very aware of the closeness of the space, and how much breasts brush against his back as I ease closer to ward off the anxiety I’m experiencing.
"There's a corner ahead of us," he says. "I'm not sure where we are exactly, but I think we're somewhere near the stairs."
Almost as soon as he says it, Cade stumbles. He reaches out and I grab onto him, but both of us go down, sliding down a short set of stairs and landing in a heap on the floor. Sprawled on top of him, I feel like the breath has been knocked out of me.
"Are you alright?" he asks.
Cade's mouth is close enough to my neck I can feel the warmth of his breath trail along my skin and down into my shirt. I nod.
"I'm fine," I say.
I reluctantly climb off him, and we stand, using each other for stability as we get back to our feet.
"There are stairs there," he says.
"Thanks for the warning," I say with a wry grin.
Ahead of us, I see the glow of the phone Cade dropped when we fell, and I realize there's another small set of stairs. Cade goes down and scoops his phone up, holding it up to illuminate the rest of the passage. I see a curve, and realize we aren't just walking down a hallway. Instead, we are following a gradual coil bringing us away from the outside of the house, and toward the heart of the building. We keep going until there's finally a dead-end in front of us.
"I certainly hope none of the servants were expected to get anywhere fast," Cade says. "That was not a shortcut to anything." He runs his hands along the wall, and I see him pause like he did when he was examining the vanity. "I think this is another entrance."
"I hope so," I say. “If it isn't, this is the worst secret passage ever.”
“It would explain why it's hidden behind a vanity, though,” Cade says.
He presses on a section of wall, and it moves out of the way just like the vanity did. I feel instant relief when a rush of air-conditioned air greets us. The room in front of us is dark, and Cade holds his phone up as we step into it. The light touches furniture and ornate wallpaper I don't recognize.
"What are the chances the secret passage led us into a different house?" I ask.
"Probably not great," Cade says, "considering the nearest house is half a mile away from here."
"I don't recognize this room," I say. “Where are we?”
Cade uses the light of his phone to find the nearest wall, following it with the flashlight until he illuminates a light switch. I mentally cross my fingers as he pushes the switch and light bursts into the room.
"You’re right. Where the hell are we?" he asks, looking around. "I don't think I've ever seen this room before."
I shake my head, taking in the towering bookshelves along the walls, and the heavy table sitting in the middle of the room.
"Me, neither."
"How is it possible that neither one of us has ever seen this room?" he asks.
"Because it never occurred to us to go into the wall behind the vanity?"
"True."
The room is cool, so it's obviously equipped with modern air conditioning, but the light is another of the old-fashioned bulbs that tell me it hasn't been changed in quite a while. I walk around the perimeter of the room before something suddenly occurs to me.
"Gramps," I say. “Oh my god.”
"What?" Cade asks from where he’s inspecting one of the bookshelves.
"Gramps," I say again. "Don't you remember he used to disappear all the time? We thought he was going out to his shed, or the yard, but you'd try to find him, and he wasn’t there? And when he showed back up, he wasn't dirty?"
Cade nods.
"I remember that."
"Yeah, well, he used to do that even before you and I met. Grammie always said he needed his time to his thoughts. I figured that meant he was out being an old man wandering around the grounds, but it never made sense to me that he wasn't dirty or sweaty or anything when he'd show back up. I could never figure out what he was doing. This is it. Look at the books. Half of them are about woodworking. And there's a bottle of his favorite bourbon over there." I open a drawer in a nearby cabinet and pull out a pipe. Breathing the smell of stale but sweet tobacco in, I smile. "It smells like him."
"Grammie hated when he smoked those things," Cade says. "I think that may be one of her few logical traits. She was positive tobacco was going to kill him."
"That's probably why he died of a heart attack. Just to prove her wrong."
"Smoking puts you at four times the risk of having a heart attack," he says.
"What? How do you know that?"
"How do you not know that?"
"Why the hell do people do it then?"
Cade laughs.
"Well, Grammie didn't want Gramps doing it near her."
"Exactly. She wouldn't let him smoke anywhere near her. So, he came in here."
Cade laughs.
"Gramps had a man cave," he says.
"Yes, he did." My phone suddenly rings, startling me. I pull it out of my pocket and look at the screen. "How does she always know when we're talking about her?" I ask.
"Grammie?"
I nod.
"Hello?"
"Hi, Honey."
"Grammie, why did you never tell us about the secret hallway behind the spare bedroom? The one Cade is sleeping in now?"
"Because it was a secret," she says without missing a beat.
I roll my eyes and look at Cade.
"She says she never told us about the secret passage because it was a secret."
He nods.
"Fair enough."
".... but he found it in the bottom of my pool bag."
I realize I've missed most of something Grammie said.
"Wait, what?" I ask. "Who found what?"
"Arthur," she says. "Arthur found his book in the bottom of my pool bag. Can you believe we were reading the same one? He tried to take my copy."
She laughs like it is the funniest story she’s ever told, but I'm still back with the pool bag and the mystery man digging around in it.
"Who's Arthur?" I ask.
"Oh, you know. Arthur."
"No, Grammie. I don't know. Who is Arthur, and why was he looking through your pool bag? Why do you even have a pool bag? What do you need to bring to the pool at the rehab center?"
"I told you, he thought I had his book, but it turns out we are just reading the same one, and his was still in his bag. I'm not at the rehab center anymore."
She just slides that comment in at the end of her story like she thinks I won’t notice it.
"You're not at the rehab center anymore?" I ask. "Where are you?"
I notice Cade moving to the other side of the room like he's trying to distance himself from the conversation.
"The doctor thought I made good progress, and that I need to continue to focus on getting stronger and healthier. But the house, with all the repairs and the noise and the chaos...it's just not an environment conducive to healing right now. So, I'm with one of the girls at her retirement community."
"And when were you going to tell me that?"
"I just told you."
"Do you know when you’re coming back?"
"No. I still think I need some time. The girls are very welcoming. And Arthur wants me to teach him how to do the breaststroke. I was just checking in. Tell Cade I send my love. Ciao!"
"Wait, Grammie – who's Arthur?"
I let out an exasperated sigh as she ends the call. Then the last thing she told me about the man ran back through my head, and I shudder.
"Well, isn't that fantastic," I mutter.
"Something wrong?" Cade asks.
"She's not even at the rehabilitation center anymore," I say. "She decided to go to a retirement community for a while."
"She'll enjoy that," he says.
I know I can leave. Grammie obviously doesn't need me to be her caregiver, and now that Jace isn't around anymore, she doesn't need me to watch over the house, either. But I'm reluctant to walk away just yet. I go back to looking around the room and notice a box sitting under the table.
"Look at this," I say, pulling the box out and setting it on the table. "It's Clue."
"I love that game," Cade says. "Do you remember how we used to play with Gramps?"
"Of course," I say. "Grammie played a couple of times, too."
"Until she tried to convince Gramps she could consult with police files by looking in the folder."
"That did take a little bit of the excitement out of the game," I admit. "We should play later." I look up at Cade and see his eyes burning into mine. "Clue," I say. "We should play Clue later."
The sudden sound of a bell resonating through the room makes me gasp, and I press my hand to my chest to hold my heart in.
"What is going on here? Suddenly everyone wants us."
"Are you expecting anyone?" Cade asks.
"No," I say. "Are you?"
He shakes his head.
"No. We should probably go find out who it is."
I look around the room, noticing for the first time there is no door.
"How?"
13
Cade
A few minutes later, Fiona and I still haven't figured out how to get out of the room. We are considering making our way back through the hidden passage when I notice a sconce on the wall that looks slightly askew. I press it, and the wall slides open. We rush out into a back hallway, and exchange glances.
"For some reason, I'm starting to question whether that passage was actually built for the staff," I say.
"You think whoever originally designed the house was just crazy?"
"Potentially."
It took us so long to get back through the house, I'm sure whoever was at the door is long gone by now, but as we approach the entryway, the doorbell rings again. Almost immediately, there is a series of rapid-fire knocks in the center of the door. I open the door, and Franklin immediately bursts into the house. His eyes are wild, and he reaches toward me like I'm the last thing standing between him and a shootout at the O.K. Corral.
"Cade! You're here! Thank god!"
"Of course, I am. I told you this is where I was going to be."
"You haven't answered your phone!"
"Calm down," I say. "When did you call me?"
"I've called you every day for the last three days," he says.
I look down at my phone, scrolling through my recent calls. I shake my head.
"I don't have any missed calls from you."
"I called, Cade," he insists.
His eyes dart over my shoulder, and I turn to see Fiona standing a few feet away, watching us with a confused expression on her face. My heart sinks in my chest. Suddenly, I'm facing exactly my nightmare – my two little worlds have crashed into each other, and there's nothing I can do to stop the collision. As much as I may want to, I can't just shove Franklin back out onto the porch and pretend this didn’t happen.
"Franklin," I say, gesturing toward Fiona. "This is Fiona. Her grandmother owns this house. We are very… old friends."
"I'm familiar with Grammie," Franklin says. "I've made enough lunch reservations for the two of you over the years. It's nice to meet you, Fiona."
Fiona gives an unsure nod.
"Fiona," I say, "this is Franklin, my assistant."
"Your assistant?" she asks.
I can see her evaluating Franklin's suit. Though it is more disheveled than I have ever seen, it still looks expensive and high-end. She looks around us through the open door, and I follow her gaze to the sleek black Bugatti parked outside.
Well, shit.
"I hope you don't mind," Franklin says when I look at him. "I didn't know how to get here, and I thought this was most efficient."
"Why would he mind?" Fiona asks.
"It's his car," Franklin explains.
Fiona's eyes lock on me, and I see the hurt and unasked questions in them before she turns and storms away. I start after her, but I hear Franklin behind me.
"Cade, I really needed to talk to you, and you weren't available. You never returned my calls, and I had tried so many times. I was really getting worried about you, and I didn't know what else to do."
"Are you sure you weren’t calling my office number, Franklin?" I ask.
His mouth opens, and it snaps closed again without a sound. He's usually on top of things, but it seems that Mr. Norton has him a bit more frazzled than I was prepared for. We'll have to figure that out later. Right now, I need to clear things up with Fiona.
Leaving Franklin standing in the entryway, probably contemplating whether or not he had been calling a phone just feet away from his own for three days straight, I chase after Fiona. I find her upstairs in her bedroom. She's folding a blanket with the harsh, sharp movements of someone trying to keep their hands busy.
"Fiona," I start as I walk into the room.
Her hands drop in front of her, and she looks up at me.
"What's going on, Cade? Who is that?"
"I told you, he's my assistant."
"Right, your assistant. Of course. And that car? Is it really yours?"
"Yes," I say.
"Not many small business owners I know have an assistant in a custom-tailored suit or a brand-new Bugatti with a driver. I don't understand what’s going on here."
"What do you want to know?"
"I want to know what the hell is going on. I want to know why I thought you ran a fledgling construction business, and now I’ve found out that you have a personal assistant, an expensive car, and are important enough of a person for said personal assistant to drive all the way out here. Who are you?"
There's a hollow ache in my chest, and I wish I could rewind the situation and go backwards. I've always had my reasons for not advertising my wealth and living a private life. Now as I look at Fiona, those reasons don’t make as much sense. I never meant to hurt her, but as I look at the tears sparkling in her eyes, I realize that’s all I’ve done.
"Franklin runs my business on a day-to-day basis. I own a company called Endeavor, but I choose not to be directly involved. Franklin handles things for me so I can live on my own terms. That's it. I'm the same person I've always been," I tell her. "It's still me."
"Bullshit. The man I knew didn't have any of this. But that was ten years ago. I don't even know if I knew you then. "
"Yes, Fiona. You knew me. You’ve always known me. I never told you I had some fledgling business. If that's what Grammie told you, then that's on her."
"And you told her something different?"
I hesitate. Fiona lets out an exasperated sound and tosses the blanket in her hands on to the bed.
"Why does it matter how much money I make? Or how big my business is? None of that ever mattered before."
"That's because you didn't own a business before, and you didn't have any money. We were kids. Then you just…" She stops.
I don't want to ask her to finish her thought. This is a conversation I know we’ve needed to have, but never wanted to. This has been building up inside both of us for ten years, but now that I'm facing it, it hurts even worse than I had imagined.
"Then I just what, Fiona?"
"Then you just disappeared. You walked away, and I never knew what happened to you. You left me."
"Do you want to know?"
"Of course, I want to know. How could I
not? I shaped my entire life around you, Cade. You were everything to me. Then you just walked away. You left me behind, and never thought twice about it."
"Yes, I did. You have no idea how much pain I was in, Fiona. I just want you to know the only reason I’ve built this life, is because of you.”
"How can you say that? How can you look at me after spending ten fucking years apart, and say the life you've built for yourself was for me?"
"I never meant to leave you behind," I say. "From the moment I met you, Fiona, I've known that you were something precious. You were different from anyone I’ve ever known. That was true back then, and it's still true now. Never in my life have I known someone like you. No one else even comes close. But, I guess that's the reason I walked away in the first place."
"What do you mean?"
"You've always been it for me, Fiona. There was never a question in my mind. I know I did stupid things. I did a lot of stupid things, but it never changed how I felt about you. I was going to come for you that night, just like I promised. But then I started second-guessing things. I always knew, deep down, that I wasn't good enough for you. Not with how I was living back then. I wanted nothing more than to be with you. I wanted to whisk you away and marry you and create a life together. But I knew if that happened, you would eventually figure out exactly what I already knew – not only that I didn't deserve you, but I would never be able to give you the type of life you deserve. I couldn't do that to you. I couldn't live with the thought of you having to settle. So, I left. It was cowardly as fuck, and I should have faced you and told you exactly what I was feeling, but I didn't. I told myself I would figure things out and start a career, establish a life for us, then come back for you. When I came back, I wanted to be someone you could be proud to have as a partner."
"I would have been proud no matter what," she says.
"I wanted to be the type of man you deserved, not some loser you happened to end up with. A few weeks after I left, I realized what I had done. I tried to get in touch with you, but I couldn't. No one answered. I came by the house, but you weren't here. When I finally talked to Grammie, I realized you hadn't told her what happened between us, and I couldn't bring myself to tell her, either. It wasn't my place. I told her that we had a falling out, but that I was trying to make up for it."