Page 15
Twelve
Benny
Present Day
Benny read Evelyn’s latest letter at least twenty times. She turned the small key over and over in her hands wondering what it would lead to. She picked apart each sentence in the letter, laboring over each word, trying to decode the message Evelyn left her.
Her . Everly Benedict.
If she’d needed proof before that this game was truly meant to be played by her, now she was certain. Her great-great-great-great-great-grandmother had written letters to her personally one hundred and seventy-five years before she was born.
But even though the new riddle was shorter, it was even more confusing than the last one. A door with no locks that needed a key to get through? What did that mean?
The three of them searched the entire downstairs of the house with military precision, looking for a door with no locks that needed a key, but there were no doors that fit that description. Then they checked the doors on the second floor, but still nothing. It was getting close to dinner, and both Zara and Ryan had to get home.
“We’ll come back tomorrow,” Zara promised. “I can be here by noon. I promised my grandmother I’d help her sort through some donations to the museum that came this week in the morning.”
“Noon is great.” Benny looked at the journal pages in her hands again, shuffling from one entry to the other. Something was gnawing at her and she wasn’t sure if she should mention it.
“You’re making that face again,” Zara said.
“What face?” Benny asked.
Zara grinned. “That one where you’re deciding if you should say something out loud or keep it to yourself.”
Wow, she knows me already, Benny thought.
“I didn’t notice you make a face,” Ryan said gently.
“Is it something in the journal?” Zara prodded. “Did you find something?”
“It’s Evelyn’s journal entries,” Benny explained. “They’re numbered incorrectly. These are two and four. Where is three?”
“Let me see,” said Ryan. Zara came over to look as well. They shuffled through the pages, gentle with the aging paper. “They’re misnumbered alright. Probably just an accident.”
“Is it?” Zara said, and Benny could almost see the wheels in her brain turning. “What if she did it on purpose?”
“I guess read the pages and then you’ll know for sure,” Ryan suggested.
“True,” Benny said, pushing a stray piece of her brown hair behind her ear, like her mom did when she was anxious. Benny was definitely anxious. “I’ll let you know what I find.” Tomorrow she would only have seven days left to complete the game.
Benny tried to stay calm and remember that for the first time ever, she was part of a team. She wasn’t alone in this quest. She had friends her own age to help her and that felt…nice. If unfamiliar. Maybe unfamiliar was good, in case she lost and didn’t get to stay in Greenport, in this beautiful house, near new friends. She felt the panic rising again. What if the island wasn’t real?
It is real , she told herself.
***
Once everyone left, Benny sat down to read Evelyn’s new journal entries. She read them twice then she decided Zara was right—Evelyn must have mismarked them. The second entry introduced her to Evelyn’s Papa and Axel Rudd, while the third took place the next morning, when Evelyn went to the island to meet Kimble and ask him questions. She was pretty sure there wasn’t an entry missing in-between.
The entries themselves made Benny surer than ever—Kimble, as impossible as it sounded, had stayed the same age for two hundred years. Which made Benny wonder—had he found whatever he was looking for and lived out his life already? Was he long dead and buried now too? Or was he still alive? And if so, where was he?
Benny heard her phone buzz, and she picked it up when she saw it was one of the (now) five numbers she had stored in her phone. “Hi, Peter.”
“Benny! Just thought I’d check in and see how everything was going.” She pictured him in a ball cap and jeans, with his feet up (sneakers for sure) on a desk, leaning back in his chair like a kid. “Your mom told me you are enjoying Summerville and all the estate has to offer.”
Benny’s mom walked by just then, humming to herself and wearing tennis whites, of all things. “Yes, some of us more than others,” Benny said.
“Good! How is the game going? Are you making progress?”
“I found the first clue yesterday, and it came with another riddle, more journal pages, and a second letter addressed to me,” she said, watching her mom go straight to the kitchen cabinet with the water bottles. She pulled one out to take to…tennis? Did her mom play tennis now?
“Really? That’s great! Wait till I tell the office.” Peter sounded as excited as she was yesterday. “You’re making progress, and you’ve still got a week.”
One week. One week. One week. The words screamed in her head. She took a deep breath. “Yes, I know I can find the island in time,” Benny said firmly.
“I know you will. But Benny? If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to call. I’ll check in again in a few days.”
Hanging up, Benny unfolded her legs from under her and made her way to her mom. She looked like one of the guests at the inn. “Tennis?” Benny asked.
“No.” Her mom smiled, her blue eyes crinkling. “Believe it or not, Harris is teaching me pickleball.”
“No! Not you too!” Benny laughed. Wally said every new guest who came to the inn asked if there was a pickleball court.
“It’s fun! You should try it,” Mom said. “Actually, Harris and I were saying maybe the four of us could play—you and me versus him and Ryan?”
Benny’s insides did an unwelcome flutter. Your mother has a new boyfriend , Grams used to say. We’ll see her again when this one bites the dust. Her mother loved falling in love. It was staying in love that seemed to be the problem. She’d never met her father. And Benny was happy the boyfriends she remembered didn’t stick around. None were worthy of her mom. But Harris seemed different. He was an accomplished businessman. Her mom deserved someone nice showing her around Greenport. And if I win the game, she can stay here. We both can. “Pickleball would be fun,” Benny said. She wasn’t sure Ryan would agree. “ Mom ,” she said excitedly, since she hadn’t seen her since yesterday, “we found the second clue.”
“You did? Why didn’t you tell me?” her mom said, sounding animated, her ponytail swaying. “Wait. Tell me while we play a quick game.” She went over to the counter and brought over a stacking game. Their version happened to be wood blocks that looked like skeleton bones (Grams bought it. She was quirky that way.) “An oldie but a goodie.”
Her mom stacked the tower of slim bone-shaped blocks and removed the first piece from the middle of the tower and placed it on top. Benny went next. Each move made the tower less stable, but Benny was strategic, looking for pieces that were looser and easier to move. The first person to knock it over lost the game. They hadn’t played this one in a while. Benny filled her mom in on the library, Treasure Island , Robinson Crusoe , and the tide clock as they played, along with what she’d read in the new journal pages. The block tower stacked higher and higher.
“So are you saying Evelyn thinks this Kimble is immortal? And that the island might be supernatural since only she seems able to find it?” Her mom stuck a piece precariously on the top of the tower.
Hearing her mother say it out loud made Benny realize how bonkers it all sounded. “It looks that way, but I only have a few of her journal entries, so I’m not sure. I think Evelyn is trying to tell me her story and about who Kimble is in pieces, revealing more with each riddle. She seems afraid of the journal falling in the wrong hands.
“How do the pages you have end?” Mom asked, a wrinkle appearing above her brow as she tried hard to understand.
“The last page I have ended with Kimble and Evelyn’s conversation about the island being interrupted by her friend Aggy.” Benny carefully pried out a bone near the bottom of the tower and placed it on top.
Mom took a sip of coffee and then made her next move. “And you’re sure the journal pages aren’t fiction? Maybe she was writing a novel.”
“I don’t think so. Why would she want me to read the pages or say they’re from her journal if they aren’t part of her story? No, I think Evelyn wants me to understand why it’s so important I find her island. Something is on it she must want me to find. I just don’t know what yet.” Benny drummed her fingers on the countertop and looked out the kitchen window at the inn guests enjoying a rare morning of no rain. At that moment, her mom placed a new bone on top, and the tower came tumbling down.
“I win!” Benny crowed just as the doorbell rang, loud and long, like a gong.
“I’ll get it,” Wally said pleasantly, moving to the door and opening it as she and Mom picked up the pieces. “Hello, Harris, Ryan. Ladies, you have company.”
“Hello! I hope we’re not interrupting,” Harris said, walking into the kitchen. “What are you two doing? Playing a game?”
“We love games,” Mom told him. “It’s our thing.”
Harris smiled. “It’s certainly Benny’s, as Evelyn Terry seemed to predict.” He stared at her a beat. “Sorry to interrupt, but we have a ten-thirty pickleball lesson, so I brought Ryan early so he wouldn’t have to bike. It’s supposed to rain later. I hope that’s okay.”
“Of course. Right, Benny?” Mom said, looking at her pleadingly.
“Of course.” Benny wasn’t used to having people over. There was no room in their rentals, and she hadn’t had a playdate since she was little and they lived with Grams. What were they supposed to do while they waited for Zara to arrive?
“Any cookies?” Ryan asked, looking around. He was wearing another Hawaiian shirt and had on cutoff shorts and flip-flops. “Those were really good yesterday.”
“ Ryan ,” Harris admonished.
“What?” Ryan looked embarrassed. “Wally’s cookies were awesome.”
At this, Wally chuckled. “I’m happy to make more for today’s clue hunting.”
Harris turned to Benny. “Yes, Ryan said you made progress. Though his lips were sealed about what you found.”
“Benny said to keep it between us.” Ryan looked at her and smiled as Wally gave him a glass of milk. “I don’t want to get kicked off the team.”
Team. This was the first time she’d ever been on one. She felt a thrill at the thought. But then she remembered Evelyn’s warning in the second letter: Be careful who you trust . Why? Who could she have been worried about?
“We should get going.” Mom kissed her on the cheek. “Good luck today, you two. Let me know what you find.”
“I’m going to get some cookie dough out of the inn freezer and bake you three a new batch,” Wally said, leaving her in the kitchen with Ryan, who started gulping down milk like it was water.
“So what should we do while we wait for Zara?” Ryan asked. “Sorry I’m early. My dad insisted on driving me.” He rolled his eyes.
“It’s alright,” Benny told him. “I guess we can walk the grounds. Maybe play a game? I don’t really want to start searching till Zara gets here.”
Ryan nodded. “What kind of game? The block thing?” He pointed to the skeleton game on the table. “That’s cool. Like Jenga. We can play and try to crack Evelyn’s riddle.”
Benny dumped the contents out on the counter. “I like that idea,” she said, stacking pieces again. She had the tower up in no time.
“Did you read Evelyn’s new journal entries?” Ryan asked as he placed a bone on the top of the tower.
“Several times,” Benny admitted as she slid another block from its place. “It was more about Kimble and the island, but nothing that tells me why she wants me to find this place so badly. I hope there are more entries when we find the next clue.”
“What about the misnumbered entries?” Ryan asked. “Does it look like something is missing?”
Benny shook her head. “I don’t think so. One entry is June fourth and the next is June fifth. I think it was just a mistake.”
“Want me to take a look to be sure?” Ryan asked, concentrating on a block that was stuck in place.
Benny hesitated. Yes, Zara had read the letter and Ryan had read the second one when they’d found the first clue. But there was something about Evelyn’s journal entries that still felt so private. She wasn’t ready to share them with anyone and she wasn’t sure why. “Thanks. It’s okay.”
He looked at her searchingly.
Be careful who you trust. “Evelyn was so secretive. I know it sounds silly, but I feel like I’m betraying her somehow by showing you her private journals. Does that make sense?”
“I get it,” Ryan said, knocking the tower over on his next turn. He groaned. “You win.”
“Rematch?” Ryan nodded and Benny started to restack the blocks. “While I’m setting the game up, maybe you can tell me what you think of this key that was with the letter.” That was something she didn’t mind showing him. She’d been staring at it all morning herself and had no clue what it could be for. She pulled it out of her pocket.
There was heft to it, and for some reason, Benny felt the key was important not just for the riddle but in understanding Evelyn. It was small, a burnished gold with a decorative piece at the top that looked like a small fleur-de-lis. The key itself was thin, but the metal was heavy, and the bottom piece, the locking mechanism, was shaped like a small C .
Ryan flipped it over in his hands. “Seems too small for a door lock. Maybe a safe? Or a cabinet? Did you check the bookcases in the library again?”
“We did that yesterday,” Benny reminded him, taking the key and placing it back in her pocket.
“Evelyn mentioned treasure in the first clue.” Ryan made the first move on the new game. “Maybe the key is to a treasure chest?”
“On the island?” Benny wondered for a second. “I guess it could be, but she said we needed the key for the next clue, so it has to be something with can find. There’s no sign of the island yet.”
“Wouldn’t it be cool if there was a treasure chest?” Ryan said wistfully. “Then you’d be mega rich. The house, the grounds, the money, and buried treasure. If it’s Kimble’s, it would be worth a fortune.”
“Maybe,” Benny said. “But I’m not really in the game for the money.”
Ryan looked surprised. “You’re not?”
“I mean, yes, we need money,” Benny clarified.
Benny looked around at the kitchen with its state-of-the-art appliances, new cabinets, and open floor plan to a family room, a dining area, a den, and a pool outside the windows. A few acres away was the inn she’d own, the vineyard, and so much more. But it wasn’t any of that she was really interested in keeping. “I don’t need a fortune. Just enough to live here. What I want,” she said slowly, “is to finally have a home my mom and I can call our own. I know it sounds silly.” She felt her cheeks flush. “But having a house of our own is something I’ve always dreamed about. And a life in Greenport looks like a place we both would feel at home.”
Ryan studied her for a moment. “It doesn’t sound silly at all.” He put down the blocks in his hands. “Let’s make sure you win so that happens.”
GREENPORT HERALD
June 15, 1825
MISSING: AXEL RUDD
By Henry Stevens
Shipping magnate Elias Rudd is in need of the community’s help. His fourteen-year-old son, Axel Rudd, went missing the night of the Blood Orange Moon. He has brown hair, brown eyes, pale skin, and was last seen wearing a white button-down shirt with suspenders and brown pants from the Greenport Mercantile. On the night in question, he left his father a note saying he was seeing his friend Evelyn Terry. The Terry family insists their daughter was at home, as many families in Greenport have kept their children at home to avoid catching the Cough. The Rudd family is offering a reward for their son’s safe return.