Page 6

Five

Benny

Present Day

Benny bounded back down the stairs with Wally at her heels. “You should have told me about the library first! Which way is it?” Imagine I solve this whole game in one afternoon! she thought.

“Down the hall to the left. And you didn’t ask about a library till just now.” Wally chuckled.

Benny took the stairs two at a time, her heart racing as she turned and headed down the hall. “I know! Sorry!” She was getting excited. “Is it a big library? Because I need to find two of Evelyn’s favorite books. You wouldn’t happen to know what they were, would you?”

“I’m afraid not,” Wally told her. “But if that book is anywhere, it’s probably here. Evelyn was a voracious reader, and the library has thousands of books in its collection.”

Benny stopped short. “ Thousands? ” That was going to be a lot of books to sort through.

“Oh yes,” Wally told her. “It is a collection of the Terry family’s books and new ones for guests. We also have several bound volumes of the town’s first newspaper, the Greenport Herald . There are several articles that mention Evelyn over the years, if you want to find out more about her.” He reached the door at the end of the hall. “Here we are.”

Every wall of the library was covered in mahogany bookcases that reached to the ceiling, their shelves filled with books of various shapes and sizes, many of them leather bound. Each wall had an iron library ladder on a rolling track to let someone retrieve books from higher shelves. The room was slightly musty, the smell of leather and old books permeating the air.

“This room is original to the house,” Wally told her. “When Evelyn left the house to her children, her will stipulated that the bookcases stay in place, with no new walls or expansions to the room. I’m glad for that—she always wanted to keep this room as a library.”

Benny touched some of the spines—a mix of old and new before her—and looked around for clues. The room had two large wingback chairs and a bench below the one window. A single wooden clock with a strangely numbered face sat on the mantel. It had a picture of a small village on a beach below the clockface. The clock ticked quietly.

“I’ve never seen a clock like this before,” Benny said, peering at it closely.

“It’s a tide clock. Been in that spot as long as I’ve been working here.”

Interesting. Benny moved on, observing the one wall that was without shelves. Instead, it featured a large bay window situated above a built-in bench overlooking a garden, the sky above it darkening with the approaching storm. On either side of the window were paintings and portraits.

“That one right there is a portrait of Evelyn.” Wally pointed to one of a young girl. “She painted this one in her thirties, but it’s a self-portrait of herself at your age. I think I can see a resemblance.”

In the painting, Evelyn stood knee-deep in stormy water. Her long brown hair was wild, a blue dress billowing around her, the hem of which appeared wet from the sea spray. The water looked rough; the sky was dark, a crackling of lightning across the sky. Her eyes seemed to be staring directly at Benny from the canvas in a way that was almost unnerving. Benny wasn’t sure if she could see the resemblance, but there was something in the girl’s eyes—fire, determination, a certain playfulness, all wrapped into one that Benny could appreciate. She knew each of these traits well.

Hi there, Evelyn , Benny said to the girl in the painting. I’m here to play your game. Where is your first clue hiding?

“She also did a painting of an island,” Wally said, interrupting her thoughts.

Benny did a double take. “Where?”

Wally tapped a smaller painting on the wall.

Benny frowned. The island didn’t look like one here in the Northeast. This one had white sand, a colorful bird in one of the trees, and turquoise water. The sun was shining brightly, casting a ray on a cave located on the beach. And was that a fort? Evelyn’s journal didn’t mention a fort. She made it sound like she was the first person to find the island. Hmm. Benny searched the painting for clues. Evelyn had painted five people on the beach, all in silhouette. The painting reminded her of a Monet—all soft lines, no edges, like a picture out of focus or a memory. She looked at Wally. “May I lift it off the wall?”

“Be my guest.”

Benny held her breath as she lifted the frame and examined the back and the wall behind it. She’d been hoping for a secret safe or a message, but there was nothing there. She glanced at the self-portrait again. Evelyn, help me win. “Who are the other pictures and paintings of?” she asked, putting the painting back on the hook.

Wally looked up at the wall. “That is your family tree.”

Family. With Grams gone, Benny didn’t have much of that. It was her and Mom. Benny stared at the black-and-white photographs of women with children riding horses, at the beach standing next to large black dogs, standing on the balcony of a lighthouse in awe. Some of the women in the photos were children, others were young adults or seniors, but Benny noticed they all had that same fire in their eyes.

“Every generation that has come before you is on that wall,” Wally added, smiling up at the wall. “Seven, if my math is right.”

“Seven?” Benny was about to try to do the math herself when she saw a picture that looked very familiar. “Grams,” she whispered, goose bumps trailing her arms as her fingers traced the black-and-white image of a small girl in a one-piece bathing suit sitting on a dock, her arms around a shaggy brown dog. Grams couldn’t be older than eight in this picture, but she remembered Grams showing her a similar picture once. I was always fiery , she’d said. Like you. I liked adventure.

Grams knew , Benny thought. She knew this adventure was in her future, and she’d kept the secret safe her whole life. If there was ever a question of whether Benny belonged here, this photograph answered it.

A loud rumble of thunder seemed to make the whole house shake. Seconds later, she could hear the rain, as if it were moving over the house, pelting the roof. She hoped Mom and Harris weren’t getting soaked right now.

“Guess we’ll have to wait to show you the gardens,” Wally said. “I think you’ll like them. There’s a sunken garden with a wooden gate that leads from Summerville to the inn. There’s even a purple wisteria on the grounds that Evelyn herself supposedly planted.”

Benny felt something stir inside of her. She wasn’t sure if it was the thrill of cracking the case, the game afoot, or this house. This place. Why did she feel like she belonged here? She tried to push the thought aside. Don’t get attached she reminded herself, even as she looked to Wally, someone she had a feeling she could trust. And trust was something she didn’t do easily.

Lightning lit up the great room, and Wally moved to turn on some of the lamps. The rain was coming down hard. “Perfect weather for exploring a big new house, if you ask me.” He pulled a bound copy of Greenport Herald 1825–1830 off one of the shelves. “Also great weather for reading.”

Benny hugged the book to her chest. It smelled like leather and was heavier than any textbook she’d read in school. She looked around again. The answers to the riddle were here. Right in front of her. She just had to find them.