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Two

Benny

Boston, Present Day

Benny knew what an inheritance was—someone had left her money or a boat or a car (at least that’s how it worked on Lawyered Up ), but the question was who? Nobody Benny knew had money, but her mom seemed excited to hear the details, and Sal had said, “Kid, you’re going to be rich!”

Benny wasn’t so sure. What did this lawyer mean by “a fortune”? Did this have to do with whoever her father was? Benny had more questions than answers as she climbed the stairs to their sweltering apartment.

Sal had given her mom a couple of hours off so that she and Benny could meet with Peter Stapleton of Fineman, Larken, and Burr to discuss this inheritance business in private.

“I’m sorry for the mess.” Benny’s mom unlocked the door and ran to open the windows, while Benny turned on their lone fan. “We weren’t expecting company, Mr. Stapleton.”

Benny looked around the tiny apartment still full of boxes, some that hadn’t even been unpacked at their last place in Vermont. (Benny had never been so grateful she’d remembered to do last night’s dishes.)

“Please call me Peter, and don’t apologize. I’m just happy I finally tracked you down.” Peter grabbed an overturned box and sat down at the kitchen table. He removed his Yankees baseball cap. “You two move around a lot, and we’re running out of time for you to collect the inheritance.”

Her mom winked at her. “What can we say? Benny and I love new places. We don’t like to be tied down.”

Benny smiled wanly. After Grams had died, and her mom lost her job as an administrative assistant at a hospital in Toledo, her mom had declared it was time to start over. But when her mom lost her job in the next place, they moved again, and then again. Benny hated being the new girl at school all the time.

Peter removed a worn leather binder from his briefcase and pulled out a large stack of papers. “I’ve been looking for you two for two years. When we lost track of you in Ohio, it took almost a year to find you since you didn’t register for a new license till you reached Vermont. And then you moved again. If you hadn’t gotten a traffic ticket last week—”

Mom cut him off. “I did not roll through that stop sign. I swear.”

“I’m glad you got the ticket, no offense,” Peter said. “Before that I was ready to give up. The term of the inheritance trust ends in a little less than two weeks.”

Two weeks? Benny picked up on that key phrase. “What do you mean the trust ends?”

Peter looked at her curiously. “This is going to sound odd, but to collect the inheritance, the benefactor created a game for you to play and the guidelines are very specific. You must start the game this June, and we’ve already lost a few days. The entire game must be completed by June twelfth.”

“Game?” Benny sat up taller. Games were something she was good at.

“What did she inherit anyway?” Her mom frowned. “I hope I didn’t lose an hour’s pay to hear Benny is going to collect some sort of antique teapot.”

He chuckled. “I can assure you, Ms. Benedict—Benny inherited more than a teapot. Your daughter just inherited an estate with a centuries-old inn and a vineyard worth millions.”

Benny lost her balance, and her chair tipped straight over. Peter and her mom jumped, but Benny quickly recovered, scurrying to get up. “Did you…did you…just say millions ? As in more than one million?” The words she was saying made no sense to her brain. Her mom understood. She started to scream.

Peter grinned. “Millions. Ever heard of Terry Estate Vineyards? No, of course not. You’re a kid, but it’s big and you’re about to become the owner of that and Terry Inn Resort, the oldest inn in America. Forget the Hamptons. Terry Inn is the celebrity resort hot spot of the east end of Long Island.”

“I’ve heard of both!” Her mom pulled the hair tie out of her ponytail—something she did when she was nervous. Her bangs fell in front of her eyes. “Are you saying Benny is now the owner? We’re the owners?”

Benny felt her heart beating out of her chest. “This has to be a mistake,” she said shakily, leaving all four feet of her chair on the floor. “Who would leave all this to me?”

“An ancestor by the name of Evelyn Terry.” Peter put on reading glasses and consulted his papers. “She set up this trust for you specifically by name in 1850, the year our firm was established in New York.”

Benny’s stomach started to swirl. She knew that name from Grams. Her grandmother talked about her, calling Evelyn Terry “the first Evelyn.” Grams loved talking about their ancestry and how someone named Evelyn was a legend in their family tree.

“Who is Evelyn Terry?” her mom asked, clearly never having had this conversation with Grams. “And how would she have left her fortune to Benny 175 years ago?”

“That’s what we wanted to know!” Peter boomed. “Our firm has had a bet going forever about this. Evelyn’s account is the oldest our firm has ever had, and the guidelines of her trust are very specific. The trust must be overseen by every firstborn in her family line from the date the trust was created till the time an Everly Benedict was to inherit it all in 2025.” Peter took off his glasses. “Your mother, Evelyn Tate Benedict, never mentioned anything about this?”

The smile slid off Benny’s mother’s face. “What does my mother have to do with this?”

Peter put on his glasses again (black with blue sides, Benny noted). “She was the last Evelyn to serve on the Terry estate board, which oversees the trust.”

“My mother?” Mom repeated thunderstruck. “No. My mother knew nothing about fancy vineyards or resorts, I can assure you.”

Peter pushed a piece of paper across the table and pointed to Grams’s name on the page. The paper was old and weathered, and it appeared to be a family tree listing women in their family line as far back as the early 1800s, starting with Evelyn Terry. “That’s where you’re wrong. I met your mother to discuss the trust several times when she came to New York City.”

“That’s impossible. My mother never even went to New York City!”

Yes, she did , Benny thought, biting the inside of her cheek. Grams always told Mom she was going away to a casino in Pennsylvania with girlfriends, but Benny knew the truth. If you need me, I’ll be at this hotel in New York , she could recall her saying before giving Benny the number. This is our secret, little guppy. Which is what she called Benny on account of how much she loved the water.

“She was there, and she also knew the rules,” Peter explained. “As long as the firstborn child born to someone in Evelyn Terry’s direct line was named a variation of the name Evelyn , or Evan if it was a boy, they’d receive a stipend for sitting on the board while they were alive, helping the inn succeed and the vineyard, which was created in the last thirty years, continue to grow.”

“Yes, yes, I know all about that stupid rule about being named Evelyn ,’” Mom said, sounding agitated as she looked at Benny. “My mother said it was some sort of family superstition, like it was bad luck to not to have the name. That’s why I’m a firstborn Evelyn—Evelyn Frances, but I always hated the name and insisted on being called Lynn. My mother and I fought about it for years until finally she said if I hated it so much, I could legally change it to Lynn, which I did when I was pregnant with Benny.” She looked at Peter again, recognition starting to dawn on her. “And then she was the one who suggested I name my daughter Everly , as a compromise. I did, but always called her Benny, just to be difficult. Either way, I didn’t know anything about any money or a board.”

“Technically when you legally changed your name to Lynn, you forfeited your position with the Terry estate board,” Peter said kindly. “Maybe that’s why your mother never mentioned any of this. She didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”

“That sounds like my mother,” Benny’s mom said with a sigh.

Benny felt a prickling on the back of her neck and suddenly remembered something her grandmother used to tell her. Someday, Benny, your ship is going to come in. You’re going to have a bigger adventure than all of us, Guppy. Just you wait. Benny didn’t understand what she meant by that, but now she wondered: Did Grams mean this moment? Did Grams know the prediction? Was it really possible their ancestor Evelyn Terry had been waiting for Benny to be born, play the game, and collect the inheritance? Her? She was someone who blended into the background. She never stayed anywhere long enough to make friends. Her closest confidant had been her grandmother, and she’d been gone for years.

Benny’s head was spinning. “Is there a reason the deadline is June twelfth?”

Peter made a face. “We haven’t a clue.”

A game with a very specific deadline. It made her even more curious. Benny started rattling off questions. “What about the game itself? Is there something specific I need to find? Or do? Are there clues?”

Peter started to laugh. “I’m glad you’re excited to play, but this is the not-so-fun part of my job: telling you the rules. If you don’t complete the game to the satisfaction of this agreement, you lose everything, and the Rudd family, who has the second-largest position on the estate board, and has invested a large sum of money in the winery and the inn over the years, can buy it out.” He looked at her. “I’ve already heard from Vivian Rudd’s lawyers. She’s the matriarch of the family. There’s no gray area in this, Benny. If you don’t win the game, you’ll get nothing.”

That got Benny’s blood pumping. She didn’t know who this Vivian Rudd was, but she and her family weren’t taking Benny’s inheritance. “I know you don’t know me, Peter, but I don’t lose. I always play to win.”

He smiled again. “That’s what I wanted to hear.”

“When can she start playing?” Mom asked.

“Immediately.” Peter pulled out a map of New York’s Long Island with several X s on it. “To keep the inheritance, Evelyn Terry wants you to find an island off the coast of Long Island that doesn’t exist on any maps. According to the trust, she’s left you a series of riddles that should lead you to clues that will help you find the island.”

Benny and her mom looked at each other in confusion.

“What do you mean, find it?” Mom said, saying what she was thinking. “If it’s not on maps, what happened? Did the sea levels rise and flood it? Like with climate change or something?”

“Well…Evelyn left Benny a letter that is said to explain everything,” Peter told them. “She was quite secretive, so they said, so it’s remained sealed since the day she delivered it to the firm, but she claimed Benny would be able to locate the island if she found and followed the clues she left her and read her journal.”

Benny and her mom stared closely at the yellowed map. On the east end of Long Island, where the land seemed to fork into two, there was a large bay with a red circle around a small section of the body of water. Scribbled in the center were two words: Evelyn’s Island .

Benny pointed to the water. “And you’re sure this is where this island is located?”

Peter shook his head. “We aren’t. That’s the thing—we’ve researched old maps and topographical studies, and there is nothing to indicate an island ever existed in this location. It has nothing to do with climate change. We’ve had surveyors check the surrounding area on multiple occasions, but we’ve never been able to locate an island anywhere.”

That doesn’t sound promising , Benny thought. Be positive , she reminded herself. Evelyn wouldn’t have created this game if it couldn’t be won.

“So we have to go to Long Island immediately in the hopes Benny can win this outlandish game?” Mom asked, now sounding skeptical. “I’m sorry, Peter.” She glanced apologetically at Benny. “We don’t have the money to go on a wild goose chase to find an island that doesn’t exist. I have a job here. We have bills.”

Rent , Benny remembered. They didn’t have enough to pay their rent.

“Ah, well, that’s the best part,” Peter said, smiling again. “As long as Benny is playing the game, you may reside at the estate, you’ll receive an allowance to live on, and all bills will be taken care of by the board. If she wins the game, she’ll receive a considerable amount of money, plus ownership of the estate, the inn, and the vineyards. Honestly, you’re set for life yourself if you invest wisely.”

Benny and her mom were speechless. Benny wondered what her mom was thinking. She was afraid to sound too excited until she knew whether her mom was on board. If she had any chance of completing this game by the deadline, there was no time to lose. Her mom seemed lost in her thoughts. Benny watched as she played with a loose curl in her hair, pulling at it absentmindedly. Benny gave a tentative smile. “What do you think? It’s kind of like a paid vacation.” Her mom didn’t say anything and that made Benny nervous. What if her mom said no? “And it’s not like we have to stay on Long Island forever if we hate it.” If YOU hate it, she thought. “The deadline for winning the game is in June.”

Her mom sat up straighter and looked at her. “I know. You don’t have a lot of time to pull this off. If we’re going to give you your best shot we need to leave. Today.” She jumped up and surprised Benny with a hug. “Let’s go find your island!”

Benny felt like she might burst. “Let’s!” Benny squeezed her mom back, her heart beating faster. Rent was no longer a problem. Not for this month. I have to win. I have to. I can do this.

“Splendid!” Peter slid over new papers where her signature was required. “Lynn, you’ll still need to be on these papers as guardian because of Benny’s age, but as of today, when you both sign these papers, Benny will take temporary ownership of Summerville—that’s what they call the main house at Terry Inn Resort—the vineyards, and the island you have to find,” Peter continued, ticking things off. “The family estate was built in the mid-1800s on the North Fork of Long Island, close to the water that supposedly overlooks the missing island, but it’s been renovated extensively over the years.” He slipped her a photograph of a large shaker-shingle Victorian house with several other cottages and buildings in the background. There was even a glimpse of a pool and the water beyond it.

“This is our house?” Benny’s mom looked slightly ill. “In Greenport? New York?”

“That’s the place,” Peter said.

“Greenport.” Mom picked up the photograph, and a strange look came over her face. “I’ve been there once before,” she said softly. When she looked at Benny, her eyes were misty. “With your grandmother for a few days and… Never mind. It’s a story for another time.”

Benny wondered what her mother was referring to, but knowing her mom had been there, that her grandmother herself had left breadcrumbs, that her name was in these documents, sent a tingle down her spine. Grams knew about this. Follow the clues , she would say when they played games. They’ll give you the answers when you need them most, Guppy.

Her heart thudded louder. It was wild but exciting. She was ready. “Do you have a pen?”

“Yes.” Peter handed her what looked like a very expensive pen. It had heft to it when she picked it up to sign her name on the dotted line of each page. When she was finished, her mom cheered. Benny couldn’t help but smile.

“Congratulations, Benny. Now it’s time to give you this.” Peter handed her a thick envelope that looked like it might disintegrate on the spot.

Benny took it from him and stared at her name written in a loopy script on the front of the envelope: Everly Benedict . She felt the hair on her neck stand up. “This is from Evelyn?”

“It is,” Peter said, staring at the envelope. “We’ve had that letter in our possession for 175 years. I’ve always wondered what it said.”

“Open it!” her mom insisted.

Benny took a deep breath, and Peter and her mother watched her carefully open the envelope. She got a whiff of the musty smell of old paper as she unfolded the letter. Several handwritten pages fell out. These were smaller papers that looked torn out from a book, and they looked even older than the letter. She read the top of the first page: From Evelyn Terry’s Private Journal. The handwriting was a messier, more childish version of the writing on the envelope and the letter. Benny was grateful that her grandmother had taught her how to read cursive.

She set the journal pages aside and picked up the letter. It was dated June 1850, and yet it was addressed to her. Goose bumps prickled her arms.

“What does it say?” her mom asked.

Benny read the first two lines twice to be sure she had them right.

Dear Everly Benedict,

I believe I am your great-great-great-great-great-grandmother, Evelyn Terry, and I’ve been waiting for you to break this curse for a very long time.