The Secrets of Winterhouse Page 4

  The good mood returned as the three broke into easy conversation. And when, ten minutes later, Winterhouse—gleaming gold in the afternoon light, with Lake Luna behind it and the snow-covered mountains in the distance—rose into view, Elizabeth was overcome with gladness and relief. She had imagined this moment so many times, she could hardly believe it had arrived: Winterhouse, her home now in the truest sense, was before her.

  “The old place is still standing,” Norbridge said as they pulled up. Elizabeth would have laughed if she hadn’t been distracted: far off, on the same bridge where Marcus Q. Hiems had carved evil symbols to allow Gracella to cross over to Winterhouse, she saw someone studying the brickwork. She looked more closely through the car window, and although she couldn’t be completely sure, she thought the person there was the very boy who had stolen her seat on the bus that morning.

  “Welcome back, Miss Somers,” Jackson said. “I’m certain this hotel will be thrilled to have you stay.”

  But Elizabeth heard him only distantly. She was staring at the boy on the bridge.

  CHAPTER 6

  FRIENDS REUNITED SURE

  When Elizabeth stepped into the lobby of Winterhouse, she was almost bowled over by Freddy as he rushed to give her the biggest high five of her life.

  “Freddy!” Elizabeth yelled, slapping hands with him high above their heads.

  “You’re back!” Freddy said, grinning wildly at Elizabeth as if she’d just won a race. He began to do a little dance in front of her, barely in rhythm to the light sounds of a string quartet that came from the lobby’s ceiling speakers.

  “You’re crazy!” Elizabeth said with a laugh as Norbridge and Jackson entered the lobby and conferred by the check-in stand.

  “See how glad I am to see you?” Freddy said. “I even put my dancing shoes on!”

  Aside from being two inches taller, he looked about the same: His black hair was still thick, his face was still bright, and he wore the same clunky glasses he’d always worn. He even dressed in the same clothes—brown corduroy pants and a baggy wool shirt.

  “Look at this,” he said. He pulled a note card from his back pocket.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Just watch.” He displayed the card, which had the word “ROOM” written on it.

  “A word ladder!” Elizabeth said, recalling the letter-changing puzzles they had shared with each other so often. “Okay, go ahead.”

  “If there’s a loud explosion, you hear a…”

  “BOOM!” Elizabeth said as Freddy whipped out another card with this very word on it.

  “And if Elizabeth is doing her favorite thing in the world, she has her nose in a…”

  “BOOK! That one’s almost too easy.”

  “And if you are watching something, you are giving it a…”

  “LOOK!”

  Freddy stood holding this card and nodding giddily at Elizabeth.

  “Keep going,” she said.

  “That’s it. ‘ROOM’ to ‘LOOK.’ You did the whole thing.” He kept nodding.

  “I don’t get it.” Usually Freddy’s word puzzles added up to something clear, but she couldn’t make sense of this one.

  “You will!” Freddy leaned forward and whispered, “It has to do with my new project.”

  On each of the three previous years when Freddy had stayed at Winterhouse, Norbridge had set him to work on a project that took advantage of Freddy’s ingenuity as an ace inventor. Last Christmas it had been the Walnut WonderLog, a fireplace log of shells discarded in the hotel’s candy kitchen during the making of Flurschen, Winterhouse’s world-famous confection.

  “So what’s it going to be this year?” she said.

  “Elizabeth Somers,” someone said before Freddy could answer. Elizabeth had been so focused on Freddy, she hadn’t looked around the enormous lobby. But now she turned to see, behind her, a short, white-haired woman who’d approached silently.

  “Leona!” she said, opening her arms to hug Winterhouse’s one and only head librarian.

  “I understand you’re here to stay for good,” Leona said. She put a hand to her mouth and glanced with mock fright at Norbridge, who was still standing just inside the large glass doors of the lobby entrance. “Oops! Was that not supposed to be common knowledge?”

  “What?” Freddy said, pushing at his glasses. “‘For good’?”

  Elizabeth turned to Norbridge, seeking his approval with a look. He lifted his chin in a way that indicated it’s all right.

  “I’m going to live here from now on,” Elizabeth said to Freddy. “Norbridge worked it out, and this is going to be my home now.”

  Freddy’s eyes became enormous as he pressed his head forward. “No way!” he said. He looked to Norbridge, who was nodding in confirmation. “That’s incredible!” He threw his head back and looked at the ceiling. “I’m so jealous!” he said as everyone began to laugh.

  “Then you’ll have more time to assist us with our puzzle,” someone said.

  Elizabeth looked across the lobby to where the voice had arisen. There, beside a long table, stood Mr. Wellington and Mr. Rajput, the former (who’d called to Elizabeth) tall and bald, the latter short and round and with a thick mustache. The two men, who visited Winterhouse with their wives several times a year, were working to complete a thirty-five-thousand-piece puzzle that had once belonged to Norbridge’s grandfather, Winterhouse’s founder, Nestor Falls. Elizabeth had assisted them often during her previous stay, and she had proved to be an outstanding discoverer of pieces as the men made their way—very slowly—to completing the puzzle.

  Mr. Wellington lifted a hand. “The main thing, though, is we are very glad to see you again, Miss Somers.”

  “Despite your return,” said Mr. Rajput wearily, “and although it is undoubtedly nice to see you again, we will most likely still find many obstacles along the way.”

  Elizabeth rushed over to them—the pleasant Mr. Wellington and the perpetually gloomy Mr. Rajput—and gave them both quick hugs.

  “Are your wives with you again?” she said as she studied the puzzle; the men had made good progress and were nearly two-thirds through.

  “They are,” Mr. Wellington said. “This is our third visit since we last saw you.”

  “And you’re getting a lot closer!” Elizabeth said. The developing picture, which matched the painting on the huge box that had once housed the pieces, was of a beautiful temple in the Himalayas where Nestor Falls had once lived.

  Mr. Rajput sighed. “Still a formidable road to travel. Many, many long days ahead. Dark days. Trying days.”

  Norbridge, Jackson, Leona, and Freddy joined the other three at the puzzle table.

  “Oh, come now, Mr. Rajput,” Leona said. “Allow yourself some pleasure at how much you’ve accomplished.”

  Freddy nudged Elizabeth with an elbow and whispered, “They’re still completely obsessed with this thing!”

  Elizabeth, though, was continuing to study the puzzle. Something like the feeling began to stir again, a sensation she had grown accustomed to experiencing when she helped the men. It seemed some part of her mind could, at times, select just the right piece and somehow determine where it fit. At these moments, something guided her hand. Now, as she looked at the picture of the temple, she felt drawn to one particular tiny shape on the table before her.

  “Elizabeth?” Freddy said.

  “She’s got the scent!” Mr. Rajput said in a rare display of excitement. “She’s got the scent!”

  “We’ve seen that look many times before!” Mr. Wellington said.

  And, sure enough, Elizabeth plucked a piece from a spread before her. She inspected it, and then she moved around the table to a portion of the puzzle’s blue sky and snapped the piece into a cluster at the upper right corner.

  “Extraordinary!” Mr. Wellington said.

  “The young lady has just doubled our output for the entire afternoon!” Mr. Rajput said.

  “How do you do that?” Freddy said.


  The momentary feeling faded. Elizabeth examined the section to which she’d just added and then gave a shrug. “I don’t know,” she said, which was the absolute truth. “But I can’t wait to finish this puzzle.”

  Mr. Wellington laughed lightly. “Well, we can’t, either!”

  “Why don’t the two of you catch up?” Leona said, looking to Elizabeth and Freddy before turning to Norbridge. “I’m sure your grandfather has an important nap he needs to work through.”

  Norbridge wagged a finger at her. “I believe I hear a book calling you from the library,” he said before looking to Elizabeth. “But, yes, actually, why don’t you and the renowned inventor go have fun? We’ll take care of getting your bag to your room.” He lifted a hand in the direction of the clerk’s counter, and a bellhop scurried over.

  Elizabeth recognized him: Sampson, a thin young man of about twenty with slightly buck teeth who had been unfailingly friendly to her the previous Christmas.

  “Great to see you back here, Elizabeth!” Sampson said. “And a famous full-fledged Falls family female now here forever!”

  Everyone laughed, and Sampson clamped his lips tightly.

  “Great to see you again, too,” Elizabeth said.

  “Please, budding poet, can you take her bag up to 213?” Norbridge said, and Sampson hefted Elizabeth’s backpack and departed with a wave as Mr. Rajput and Mr. Wellington drifted back to their puzzle.

  “What is that?” Elizabeth said, looking to an enormous diorama in the corner nearly ten feet square and enclosed on all sides by sturdy glass. It looked like a model of a small town, with tiny buildings and hills and bridges and trees everywhere, all set on a broad table and frosted with artificial snow. Elizabeth couldn’t help but notice it, given its size and the fact that it hadn’t been in the vast lobby last Christmas.

  “You have to check this out!” Freddy said, and he darted to the glassed-in town as the others followed.

  “A gift from Javier Withers,” Norbridge said with pride. “Perhaps the greatest artist of miniature figurines and landscapes the world has ever known. He stayed at Winterhouse many years ago and has been wanting to share one of his works with us ever since.”

  Elizabeth, Freddy, Norbridge, and Leona stood before the diorama, which was just in front of a plaque marking the exact spot where, in 1919, Archduke Leopold Ferdinand Protz proposed to—and was accepted by—Lynette d’Oreille, the greatest opera singer of her age. Inside the glass walls was the most magnificent and realistic miniature town Elizabeth could imagine, with every detail—the trim on the houses, the sweep of the tree branches, the sparkle on the river ice—so lifelike it seemed as though an actual town had been shrunk and dropped down before her.

  “Show her the fun part,” Leona said to Freddy, and he placed his hand on a small blue dot on the glass. Instantly, a train began to chug along a track that ran through the town.

  “You do the other one, Elizabeth,” Freddy said, nodding to a second blue dot on the glass in front of her—and when she placed her hand on it, sure enough, a second train began gliding along a bridge that spanned two hills just above the town.

  “That is too cool!” Elizabeth said, and she moved her hand on and off the dot to make the train start and stop along its way.

  “And the two of you can play around with this thing anytime you like,” Norbridge said. “Now, why don’t you enjoy what’s left of the afternoon and see what else is new around here? And Elizabeth, if I’m unable to visit with you later today, I’ll be sure to look for you tomorrow morning or even at lunch.”

  “I understand,” Elizabeth said, keeping an eye on her train as it entered a long tunnel.

  “Hey, I can show you what I’m working on!” Freddy said. He took his hand from the glass, and so did Elizabeth, and with a wave and some good-byes, the two of them left the lobby.

  * * *

  “You’re going to live here!” Freddy kept repeating as they walked. “I can’t believe it!”

  They strode down the hallway, which was lined with black-and-white photographs from Winterhouse’s early years: lumberjacks in the forests nearby, mountain climbers scaling the surrounding peaks, celebrities and politicians who had stayed at the hotel over the years. Elizabeth had enjoyed studying these photographs when she’d been at the hotel the year before. They connected her to a history and a place that was timeless, and she loved the feeling.

  “I can’t, either,” Elizabeth said. “Norbridge arranged it. He just told me this afternoon.” She was dying to talk more about it, but she also didn’t want to feel she was rubbing it in—Freddy loved Winterhouse as much as she did.

  “So how is it with your parents here?” she said, wanting to change the subject. This was Freddy’s fourth Christmas at Winterhouse, but during the previous visits his parents—who were very rich—had arranged to have Freddy stay on his own, something that had only confirmed Freddy’s belief that they didn’t really care for him. This year, though, they had planned to come with him. Elizabeth knew all of this because she and Freddy had remained in touch through email, although Elizabeth’s opportunities to get on a computer were few. She was able to spend one hour twice a month—the first Monday and the third Monday, during lunch hour—on the computer in her school library, and during that time the thing she looked forward to most was reading the mail Freddy sent, without fail, and then responding to him. They shared their thoughts about all their adventures at Winterhouse, how school was going, and much more. Elizabeth knew Freddy, although somewhat anxious about having his parents join him at “his” hotel, was glad they wanted to spend Christmas with him.

  Freddy stopped walking, turned to Elizabeth, and frowned. “They didn’t come.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah, they went off somewhere on their own. Again.” Freddy lowered his gaze to the floor and shook his head. “I don’t really care anyway,” he said, looking up. “I love Winterhouse, and if they were here, they would probably just ruin things. They told me a few days ago that they decided not to come.” He shrugged. “They said maybe we’d come for Easter.”

  Elizabeth was stunned. She’d taken it for granted that Freddy’s parents would be here, and now that she heard his voice and saw his face, she understood Freddy had been looking forward to it.

  “Wow,” Elizabeth said softly. “I don’t know what to say. I’m just really sorry.”

  “I told you they hate me,” Freddy said.

  “I don’t think they do. Maybe something came up for them that was important.” Even as the words left her mouth, Elizabeth realized it was the wrong thing to say.

  Freddy sighed. “You’re lucky. You get to live here now. With your family.”

  As glad as she was about that, Elizabeth felt awful for Freddy. She wished the right words would come to her, but all she could do was look at her friend in silence.

  “Hey, let me show you something really cool,” Freddy said, pointing ahead and beginning to walk. It was clear he didn’t want to discuss his parents. “It’s right up here.”

  As they approached the doors to the enormous auditorium of Grace Hall, Elizabeth saw something on the marble floor.

  “What’s that?” she said, and they stopped in the very center of the hallway—like being at the middle of a four-way intersection—and stared down at an enormous seal done in purple and silver tile on the floor.

  “That’s the Winterhouse seal,” Freddy said.

  Elizabeth was completely baffled. “But it wasn’t here last year.”

  “There was a carpet over it then. The floor had gotten all beat-up, and they wanted to protect it during Christmas before they fixed it. That’s what Jackson told me.” Freddy ran his eyes over the huge design. “Pretty strange, huh?”

  “That’s for sure.” It was all Elizabeth could do to keep the feeling from welling up in her as she moved around the seal and read the inscriptions. This was a genuine Winterhouse riddle, and she was instantly captivated.

  “Snow-Rioter?” she said.
“With sinister starts that end at gate?” She stared at Freddy.

  “I see that look. You’re thinking there’s something to figure out.”

  “Well, isn’t there? It looks like it could have been in The Egypt Game.”

  Freddy rolled his eyes. “You really should write your own book someday. I think you’ve read all the ones already written.”

  Elizabeth lifted her chin and smiled as if she’d been named the mayor of Havenworth and wanted to make sure Freddy understood it. She resumed studying the seal. “Did Jackson tell you anything more about this thing? Or Norbridge?”

  But before Freddy could answer, a small stab of certainty—like what she’d felt all those hours earlier, just before the bus messenger had called her name—came over Elizabeth, and she knew something was about to happen.

  “Freddy!” someone called.

  Elizabeth looked behind her. There, racing down the corridor toward them was a black-haired girl—tall and slim—dressed in white leggings, a white skirt, and a white blouse.

  “I thought that was you!” the girl said as she came to a stop before them. She was out of breath as she stood looking expectantly from Freddy to Elizabeth and back to Freddy again. With an expression of deep interest—and one a careful observer might almost have said bordered on unease—the girl said, “Is this your friend Elizabeth?”

  CHAPTER 7

  A MEETING, A MYSTERY TEAMING

  “Elana, hey,” Freddy said. “I didn’t know you were around.” He pushed at his glasses and darted his eyes in Elizabeth’s direction.

  The girl looked to Elizabeth. “This must be your friend!” she said in a chipper voice. She held out her hand. “Elana Vesper. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  Her eyebrows were thin, and in her long black hair was twined a white ribbon. Elizabeth looked closely. This girl had makeup around her eyes and, on her mouth, a touch of lipstick. Elizabeth knew girls like this at school. She was never quite sure if she was jealous of them for being able or daring enough to wear makeup in sixth grade, or if she felt there was something too grown-up about it. The main thing, though, the most obvious thing, was that the girl before her was, undeniably, very pretty.