by T B Audrey
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not leaving you.”
“But-“
He shook his head obstinately. “No buts!” he said.
Beatrice smiled to herself, pleased by his loyalty and selflessness.
After a few more minutes of slogging through the darkness, they came to the door of the diner. To Beatrice, it now seemed a lifetime ago that she had stood outside looking up at the old, dark neon sign. Tommy grabbed the door and they slipped inside.
“You start at that end of those booths; I’ll start on this side.”
Beatrice ran to the end of the booths and began looking on and under the tables. There were lots of doodles and drawings and swearwords, but she couldn’t find Jonathon Maddus’ name anyway. She went to another table. Nothing. She sighed, moving to the next. Could she have been wrong? Perhaps he had been referring to something else, another booth somewhere in the house.
That was when she saw it, scrawled in the left hand corner of the third booth with a small arrow pointing down beneath it.
“Tommy!” she called, looking under the table where the arrow was pointing. Stuffed into a hole in the leg, she found another piece of paper.
Tommy hurried over, smiling. “Good job, Bee!” he exclaimed, wrapping his arms around her in his excitement and kissing her lightly on the cheek.
She blushed and, for a second, forgot all about the contest and the paper she held in her hand. In all the years that they had been friends Tommy had never hugged her, let alone kissed her. Her head was swimming and she felt almost dizzy with giddiness.
“Well, are you going to read it?” Tommy asked, looking at her expectantly.
She blushed even harder than before, but this time in embarrassment.
“Right, yes,” she blustered. “Now the contest really starts to cook, to find this clue look in a book.”
“A cookbook,” said Tommy. “It has to be.”
Beatrice began to walk toward the door, heading back to the house.
“Wait!” Tommy called. “There’s a kitchen in here, too. Remember.”
She swung around toward the kitchen door. “Right, of course,” she said. “We better look there first!”
The two of them ran into the kitchen. Tommy, knowing the kitchen much better than Beatrice, ran straight across to a small cupboard above the old and rusted stove. He opened the door and pulled out five large cookbooks.
“Come help me go through them,” he said.
Together they sat on the floor, riffling through page after page of books. Beatrice sneezed and her eyes watered as the dust that had settled into the pages of the cookbooks rose and floated hazily in front of their faces.
She lifted up a book, this one entitled “Mama’s Kitchen, 101 Recipes for Old-Fashioned Country Food.” She opened the old cover and used her thumb to quickly flip through the pages. She had almost given up on it and was already eyeing the next book lying by her foot when a small white note fell from the book to the floor.
“There it is,” Tommy said, grabbing it before she could. Beatrice scooted close to him on the floor, their shoulders bumping as they looked at the note in his hand. Tommy took a moment to turn and smile at her before he began to read.
“This contest is a little long, let’s end it on a happy song; Wait till you see what’s in store, hiding on the second floor; to find what’s hidden you must meddle, look for where dirt and dust settle.” He scratched his chin, before turning towards her with a contemplative look. “Uncle wasn’t very good at rhymes, was he?”
Beatrice shook her head. “Rhyming’s not everyone’s thing,” she said. “Back to the house then?”
She was dreading the run through the woods.
“I’m afraid it looks that way,” said Tommy.
She sighed, “Great.”
They were cold and soggy as they finally ran up the stairs together and found themselves on the second floor of the big house.
“I hope that’s the last time we have to do that,” said Tommy, flicking wet leaves off the cuff of his pants.
Beatrice reached down to rub her twisted ankle. “You hope we don’t have to do it again? At least you’re wearing sensible shoes.”
Tommy bit his lip. “Sorry…” he said. “I really should have told you to wear something else.”
She shook her head. “Well, you didn’t know we were going to be doing this.”
“Yeah…” he said, still looking guilty. He hesitated and then he turned suddenly. “Well, I guess we better start looking.”
Beatrice and Tommy were about to begin searching the bedroom to their right when they heard a clattering on the stairs. They turned to see Max and Eve running towards them, Eve trying in vain to keep up with Max’s long stride as she simultaneously tried to hold down her skirt.
“Well, look what we have here?” said Max. “What clue might you be looking for?”
Tommy narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “What about you? What clue are you looking for?”
“Uh, uh, uh,” Max scolded, shaking his finger in Tommy’s face. “I asked you first.”
Tommy opened his mouth to respond when they all heard voices coming from end of the hallway. Rene, Amy, and Tad walked out of one the doorways at the end of the hall, arguing loudly.
“What do you mean, am I following you?!” exclaimed Rene. “Of course, I’m not following you! If anyone’s following anyone, you’re following me!”
“Following you?!” Tad said angrily. “Why would anyone follow you anywhere, you delusional hippie?!”
Max laughed heartily. “Is there trouble in our little familial paradise, dear siblings?”
The brother and sister looked down the hall at him.
“Shut up, Max!” they said together.
Tommy looked around at everyone gathered in the hall.
“Wait a second… surely it can’t just be a coincidence that we all ended up on the second floor? And we didn’t all follow each other. The only explanation is that…” he trailed off.
“We all have the same clue,” Tad said, picking up where he left off.
Everyone in the hallway stared at each other for several minutes, their eyes shifting from person to person.
Suddenly Max took off at a run for the nearest doorway. His movement seemed to wake the group up from their trance. Suddenly all of them were running into rooms, looking in closets, and trying to pry up floorboards.
But all to no avail. Thirty minutes later they were still roaming the second floor, although they had all slowed considerably.
Tommy and Beatrice wondered off into a small bedroom close to the stairs.
“I don’t understand. The other clues weren’t this hard,” Tommy said, throwing back the covers to look under the comforter of the bed. “Someone should have found something by now… what are we doing wrong?”
“I don’t know,” said Beatrice. “Let me see the clue.”
She read it over again, tapping her index finger thoughtfully against the cool, white paper.
“This contest is a little long, let’s end it on a happy song; Wait till you see what’s in store, hiding on the second floor; to find what’s hidden you must meddle, look for where dirt and dust settle,” she repeated.
And then suddenly it occurred to her. “Tommy!” she said. “Where the dust settles!”
“On the floor, Bee,” Tommy said. “Everyone’s already thought of that. We’ve searched every inch of the floor.”
“But it doesn’t just settle on the floor,” she said. “Dirt settles on the ground. The ground floor.”
“But the riddle says it’s on the second floor.”
She shook her head. “No, it says what’s hidden on the second floor, maybe there’s… I don’t know…an entrance or something on the first floor.”
Tommy looked unconvinced. “I don’t know…” he said.
“Look,” she said, pointing to the note. “We’ve all forgotten the first line of the note, ‘this contest is a little long, let’s end it on a happy
song.’ There’s not an instrument up here. The only place I’ve seen an instrument in this whole house is-“
“The piano in the study! Where we put Tad and Amy when everyone was arriving!” His eyes lit up slightly. “It’s worth a shot.”
The two snuck lightly down the stairs, trying not to arouse the suspicion of the guests. Now that Beatrice had talked him into following her hunch, she felt her stomach churn with nervousness. What if she was wrong? They crept into the study and crossed to the large piano, which sat near the fireplace.
Tommy stopped in the middle of the room. “So, what are we looking for?” he asked.
“I’m not sure…” Beatrice admitted, lifting the top of the piano to look at the gears and levers beneath. She sighed. Nothing.
“I don’t know,” she said. “Maybe I was wrong.”
“Wait!” said Tommy, pointing at the front of the piano. “Look at the music sheet.”
Beatrice crossed over to the front of the piano and looked at the music sheet, smiling as she read it, “If You’re Happy and You Know It.”
“End it on a happy song! It’s the last clue.”
Beatrice looked at him in amazement. “You don’t think…”
“That’s exactly what I think.” he said, sitting down at the piano. He ran his fingers over the key contemplatively. “I hope I remember how to do this.”
Beatrice listened as Tommy began tapping away at the old ivory keys. At first the tune was halting and stinted, but after a few seconds it began to take the unmistakable form of If You’re Happy and You Know It. Finally, it was time for the last note to be played. They both waited apprehensively as Tommy lifted his fingers lightly from the piano.
As second after second passed, Beatrice felt herself losing hope. Perhaps she had been wrong after all. Then she heard it. A groan was coming from behind the big stone fireplace on the right of the piano. She turned and saw that one side of the fireplace was shifting, sliding across the floor. In fact, the whole thing was opening like some absurd door, groaning as it swung on its rusted hinges.
“Bee, you’re a genius!” exclaimed Tommy.
She laughed. “Well, thank you,” she said, as they made their way over to the entrance.
She looked into the inky blackness of the hole beyond the fireplace. Going up into what seemed like infinite darkness stretched a narrow set of stairs.
“Ready?” asked Tommy, taking one of her hands in his.
Beatrice nodded, too nervous to speak.
Gingerly they mounted the stairs, Beatrice placing her feet carefully on the small wooden slats, until finally they reached a door at the top.
“Well?” Beatrice said. “Aren’t you going to open it?”
Tommy smiled and shook his head. “No, you go first.”
Beatrice shrugged. “Okay,” she said.
She grabbed the doorknob, twisted, and pushed.
Beatrice couldn’t believe her eyes. The only light came from candles, which sat in small silver candleholders that lined the walls. In the middle of the room stood a small table with two chairs.
A vase with a single rose sat in the middle of the table, which was laid with fine china and silverware that sparkled softly in the dim glow of the candle’s flames.
She stood, stunned, for several seconds, looking at the scene with quiet astonishment. She was so caught up in the moment that she didn’t notice that Tommy had already ascended the stairs and was standing beside her.
“Well, Bee,” he said, sliding his hand shyly into hers. “What do you think?”
She turned toward him in confusion. “I don’t understand.”
“It’s for you…” he said. “All of it was for you.”
She heard applause coming from behind them and turned to see all of the guests entering the room, one by one.
“What are you doing here?” asked Tommy, looking at the growing crowd in annoyance.
Max slung his arm around Tommy’s shoulder. “Oh, come now, my good man!” he said dramatically, “After all this, we had to see her face.”
“He’s still tipsy, Tommy,” Tad complained. “He can’t be a part of the show if he is going to show up drunk. He’s been dropping hints all night.”
Beatrice could feel tears begin to well up in her eyes. What was going on?
Roger entered the room last, still chuckling despite the fact that it seemed the stairs had taken his breath away.
“Well, well,” he gasped, “that was a good game. A very good game indeed.”
Beatrice looked up at Tommy. “What is he talking about?” she asked.
Tommy shrugged off Max’s arm roughly. “Get off,” he said to him before turning to Beatrice.
“They’re actors, Bee.” He shrugged. “Well, except for Roger. He’s my uncle.”
Beatrice shook her head. “But your uncle’s dead.”
Tommy smiled. “No, no. He isn’t,” he said. “You see, he contacted me a few months ago with a new business plan of his. He wants to open this place up again as a bed and breakfast. A mystery bed and breakfast!”
“A what?!” she asked.
“A mystery bed and breakfast. Guests will pay to spend a weekend here solving a mystery. He’s invited me to work here as well. The rest of the guests tonight are hired actors.” He paused. “Excluding my uncle,” he paused and looked at Max with a look of long suffering annoyance, “and Max, who actually is my cousin.”
“And a complete amateur!” interjected Tad.
Tommy ignored him and kept going. “We wanted to have a run through. A test, you know, and I asked uncle if I could use it to surprise you.”
Beatrice withdrew her hand from his. “You tricked me,” she said.
The smile dropped from his face. “No, Bee, you don’t understand.”
“Yes I do.” she said. “This whole night was just a joke. How could you do this to me? I thought we were friends!”
She pulled away from him and hurried down the stairs, running back through the study, down the hall, and into the living room. She could hear Tommy calling to her, but didn’t stop until she felt him grab her arm.
She spun around, her hand poised to slap him, but stopped short. He flinched, but kept his gentle grip on her arm.
“Bee, please let me explain.”
She shook her head, trying to keep the tears that were threatening to fall from her eyes at bay.
“No, there is no explanation for this!”
“I’m sorry, Bee,” he begged. “Please forgive me!”
She ripped her arm out of his grip. “No, I don’t forgive you!” she said, opening the front door.
“And I never want to see you again!”
Three weeks later:
Beatrice sat at her desk, pressing the enter key repeatedly to no avail. She sighed. Even though Tommy’s last day had been over a week ago, she still felt hesitant to call IT.
It was no use this time, though. The computer was stubbornly refusing to work. She dialed the number and heard a pert, prim woman’s voice on the other end of the line.
“Information Technology Center,” she said. “How can I be of assistance?”
Beatrice rested her head on the palm of her hand. “My program has crashed again, Emma.”
“Oh, Beatrice, it’s you,” said the voice, the formality dropping from her tone. “I’ll send someone over.”
Beatrice hung up the phone and leaned her head on her desk. The last few weeks had been some of the longest of her life. She felt hurt and betrayed by Tommy, who she had thought she could trust.
She hadn’t talked to him since that night, though he had tried leaving her countless phone messages. Funny, it had only taken one night, she thought, for her entire life to crumble.
“Bee?” the familiar voice shook her out of her reverie.
She looked up to see Tommy standing above her, smiling his unassuming smile.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
He leaned his hands on the desk. “I called in a favor.
I got one of the other IT guys to let me work his shift for today so I could see you. I was actually heading this way when I got a call that your computer crashed again.”
“I don’t want to talk to you,” she said abruptly, starting to get up from her desk.
He walked around the other side and blocked her from leaving.
“Wait. Please hear me out,” he said.
She tried in vain to go around him, but he stepped back into her path.
“Hear me out and I will not bother you again. I promise.”
She stopped, sitting back down in her chair and crossing her arms.
“Fine, but make it quick.”
“Ok, quick,” he said, licking his lips nervously. “I love you.”
She looked up at him in shock. “What?”
“I love you,” he repeated. “I always have, since the moment I saw you. When I took you to uncle’s, I wasn’t trying to trick you.”
“Then what were you trying to do?”
He shrugged helplessly. “Open doors. You didn’t let me finish the other day. When I heard about uncle’s business plan, I immediately thought of you. A job there would be perfect for you! Think of all the people you’d get to meet and all the adventures we would have! I had talked uncle into giving you a job so you could quit this one,” he said. “Which you hate.”
For a moment she was tempted to forgive him everything, but then she remembered how betrayed she had felt at the moment when she had learned the truth, that he had been lying to her and stringing her along all evening.
“That doesn’t make up for what you did to me,” she responded. “You didn’t have to do that.”
He nodded. “You’re right, that was stupid.” He bent down on one knee so he could look her in the eyes. “I honestly thought you’d like it,” he whispered.
“Bee,” he continued, “I’ve loved you so long and I’ve always been too scared to tell you. I just felt that… that when I told you, it had to be something special, something that would make someone like you want to be with me. What else could I do?”
“Told me,” she said, feeling the wall she had built around herself begin to crumble. She was unable to hold a grudge while looking in his eyes, which seemed both hopeful and desperate at the same time. “There didn’t have to be an elaborate plot, or… or actors or a script. You could have told me.”