1
ANNA HENDERSON did not want to like Idlewood Manor, but as soon as her eyes spotted the gray stone mansion emerging from the thick Virginian Shenandoah forest, her heart lifted out of her scuffed tennis shoes.
It’s just some old house, Anna told herself. Just like the ones in Mom’s British TV dramas. It’s probably full of vases, picture frames, and stuff I’m not allowed to touch.
But in the gray light of a rainy morning, the house looked slightly mysterious. Like the kind that had secret passages and maybe a ghost or two.
“Oh, it’s charming!” Anna’s mom said as the car rattled toward the house. “So elegant.”
“Serene place. Good work, Charlie!” her dad said.
Anna pushed a loose red curl behind her ear and looked over to see what her younger brother Charlie thought about the house.
Charlie was staring out the window, his glasses sliding down his nose. Anna couldn’t be sure if he even saw the building in front of him, his sky-blue eyes were so unfocused. In his hands he clutched a piece of paper, wrinkled and worn from all the times Charlie had pulled it out to look at it.
Anna bounced in her seat, trying not to think about the way her stomach twisted when she saw that paper. She knew what it said. It was all anyone ever talked about anymore.
The car came to a halt outside the front gates of the grounds. A youngish man in jeans and a plaid button-down, with sandy hair that failed to cover ears that stuck out like satellite dishes, was waiting for them. “Hello, folks,” he said after Anna’s dad rolled down the window. “Welcome to Idlewood. Can I get your names?”
“We’re the Hendersons,” Anna’s dad said.
“Ah. The contest winners.” The man looked into the car and smiled at Anna. “You must be the math whiz.”
Anna’s mom smiled and reached back to pat her son’s leg. “Actually, that would be Charlie,” she said.
Charlie jolted out of whatever world he was lost in. “Huh?”
Anna looked away. She tapped her fingers on her knees. Think about Idlewood, not how we got here.
“Well, congratulations anyway,” the young man said. “You know, I wasn’t really into math when I was a kid. History was more my thing. Maybe that’s why I stuck around this place…” He trailed off as the Hendersons stared blankly, then he took out a physical key and unlocked the gate. “Sorry, just making conversation. I’m Garrett. I’ll be taking care of the grounds for the weekend. Parking is to the left of the house. It’s clearly marked, so you should have no problems. Have a great weekend.”
Anna’s parents thanked Garrett the Gateman and drove through. As they approached Idlewood, Anna examined it. Three stories and a tower. That was a good sign. All exciting houses had a tower.
Yes. This could be a lot of fun!
“Look, honey,” Anna’s mom said, reaching back to wave at her daughter. “They have a pond. Maybe one of these days we could take our lunch out there and have a picnic.”
Anna grinned at her mom. “Great! Or we could go swimming.”
“Didn’t bring our suits,” her dad said. “Besides, the water is probably full of parasites.”
“That’s what makes it fun,” Anna said. She folded her arms. “Are you sure we can’t? Just for a little while?”
Her mom sighed. “I know this isn’t the kind of vacation you hoped for, but at least you get a couple of days away from school.”
Her dad snorted. “The school gets a couple of days away from her.”
“David!” her mom said. She turned to her daughter. “Now, Anna, this is a very fancy house.”
“I can see that.” The twisting in Anna’s stomach got stronger. Here it comes.
“Then you can also probably see what I’m getting at,” her mom added. “While we’re here, I want you on your best behavior. All right? None of that business with Mrs. Schwartz’s attic or with the school trip to the art museum.”
“The art museum wasn’t my fault. I told you, I lost track of time.”
“How is that related to the fact that they found you poking around a restricted area?” her mom asked, and Anna looked down.
“It wasn’t my fault the exhibit wasn’t technically open yet,” Anna said. “Besides, Egyptian mummies seemed way more interesting than the Monet exhibit we were supposed to be looking at.”
As for the Mrs. Schwartz thing, if she hadn’t wanted Anna to poke around her attic, she shouldn’t have locked the door and specifically told Anna the space was off-limits. It was practically an invitation.
Virginia Maines, the greatest explorer who ever lived, would have seen it that way.
Her father sighed. “Anna, that’s not the point.”
“The point,” her mother said, taking over, “is that this very old house probably is full of very old, very expensive things. I want you to promise that you’ll be careful and not break anything.”
A hot surge of anger flooded Anna’s veins. When had she ever broken anything? Sure, she’d poked around, but she had never, ever damaged anything that she’d found. “How reckless do you think I am?”
“Anna.”
“Fine. I promise.” Anna glanced at Idlewood again. This time, though, the house looked more like a prison.
Her mother nodded. “This will be fun,” she said. “You should be proud that your brother won us a place here.”
Right. Anna glanced at Charlie, who was still gazing at the sky. His mouth moved as he wandered his own little haven where everything was made of numbers.
Charlie, the golden child. Anna had so many memories from when they were little, running around parks and turning over rocks to see what kinds of bugs lived under them. They were only a year apart and had been each other’s best friend.
But that was before the perfect math scores. Before Charlie won the Good Behavior Award year after year, and before Anna got caught climbing around on the roof of the school during recess. Before Charlie got honor roll and Anna got a special policy that required she be watched by a teacher at all times.
“Look, they have lawn chairs!” her mom said. “Won’t that be a nice place to read when it’s sunny?”
Anna shook her head. She traced a swirling pattern on her knee, then reversed it, wondering, not for the first time, if she was adopted.
Her dad worked in an office, day after day, looking at the same little walls in the same little room. Her mom stayed home with the kids, watching her British dramas and reading books in her spare time. And Charlie had turned into a clone of them, his nose in a book all the time. The gifted boy had no time for childish things like playing in the woods.
Maybe that was why Anna’s parents preferred him. Charlie the math whiz, winner of weekend getaways, a year younger than her thirteen years but able to sit still for hours, reading, just like them.
Why can’t you be more like your brother?
Anna, look at how quiet Charlie is being.
Charlie, keep an eye on Anna while we go out.
The last was the worst. How many older sisters had to be watched by their little brothers?
It would be easier to act like Charlie. Her parents would approve of her, and Charlie wouldn’t look down on her anymore.
Easier but not better. She wouldn’t be Anna anymore. She couldn’t love school like Charlie did, the too-small box, itchy on her skin and tight on her mind. A place where everything was known, categorized, and filed away. Nowhere to explore, and no secrets to uncover. How could she be at ease sitting there when there were attics and mummy exhibits to sneak into? What was sitting at a desk and reading compared to circling the world in seventy-two days like Nellie Bly?
She’d mentioned that to Charlie once, and he’d replied that with changes in technology, she could circle the globe by plane in about thirty-six hours. Yeah, she could, she’d said, but that wasn’t the same. Tell that to Bly. Tell it to Amelia Earhart or Osa Johnson or Jeanne Baret. Tell it to Virginia Maines. She’d explain that, from the ground, you could see that the world was full of shadowy corners, places still undiscovered.
At least that was true back in 1920. Anna hoped it still was, even in a world with thirty-six-hour circumnavigation.
Anna’s dad parked the car beside a few others (they must not be the first guests), and Anna hopped out as soon as the engine stopped. She looked up at the house. From here, Idlewood’s size was far more impressive. It didn’t exactly loom, but it did seem to … wait, as though politely allowing its guests to judge it for themselves. Or like—what was the phrase from her mom’s shows? Like it was keeping its own counsel.
The wind blew, tickling Anna’s neck with her loose curl, once again unfastened from behind her ear. The air smelled like wet stone and car exhaust as another car pulled up beside them. The sick twisting in her stomach turned back into a fizzing thrill.
Such a big house. A house like this would have many rooms. Dark ones, dusty ones, not visited in many years. Maybe even an off-limits attic or a display of mummies. Sure, it wasn’t an ancient tomb, but for a single weekend, maybe Anna could find a few secret places. Maybe enough to last her three days.
* * *
The car door slammed, but Charlie ignored it. Idlewood Manor, he thought. Rwovdllw Nzmli when translated into the Atbash cipher, and in the A1Z26 cipher it would be—
Something pounded on Charlie’s window. He jumped and saw Anna outside, fist against the glass. “Hey,” she called. “I don’t care if you did get us here; you still need to carry your own luggage.”
“Right. Sorry. I’m coming.” Charlie pushed his glasses up his nose and scrambled out of the car to pick up his duffel bag. The letter from the school district was still in his hand, though wrinkled and now a bit sweaty. Before folding it and tucking it into his pocket, Charlie read the paper one more time.
“Dear Mr. Henderson,” it began. (Charlie loved that in this case, he was “Mr. Henderson.”)
Congratulations on winning first prize in your math competition! We are pleased to extend to you and your family a space at the exclusive Idlewood Manor open house weekend. Leave the modern world behind and spend three days living like generations past.
After that, it was all information on how to RSVP, what to take, and what to leave at home. No pets allowed, and they were serious about the rule against modern technology. Charlie’s parents were going to leave their cell phones in the car, and all Charlie had brought for entertainment were a few books, a notebook, and a pen. But Charlie still loved to hold on to the letter. It gave him a thrill to know everything that was happening was because of him.
After he’d won the competition, and when his teachers had told him that the grand prize was a weekend getaway at Idlewood, he’d been happy. But when he’d told his parents and his mom had smiled so much, and had told him that Idlewood hadn’t been open to guests in years, he was ecstatic. Math was all well and good on its own, but when he could use it to make his parents so happy, well, that was something special, wasn’t it?
But Anna had frowned while his parents celebrated, and as the family prepared to travel, she had seemed to retreat into the forest near their house more and more. And that morning, her gray eyes had been stormier than usual, and she’d glared at Charlie when he suggested that if she didn’t bring any books, she could borrow one of his.
Charlie sighed. He should have known not to offer Anna a book. She wasn’t the kind to sit and read. You just had to look at her behavior at school to see that. Sitting quietly, or thinking ahead, weren’t favorite activities of hers.
On the other hand, Charlie couldn’t seem to stop thinking, especially if it was about math, or, even better, puzzles. One of the books he’d brought was a guide to all kinds of codes and ciphers. He’d spent the drive playing around with the Atbash cipher, a simple code made by reversing the alphabet.
If A=Z and B=Y and so on and so on, then my name would be Xsziorv. And Anna’s would be—
“Charlie!” Anna shouted, breaking him, once more, out of his thoughts. She was walking into the house. Into Idlewood, the mansion that he’d won a vacation at for his family. “Come on!” she said. “We’re wasting time.”
Charlie groaned and followed his sister. But as startling as it was to be shaken out of his thoughts, he was glad she’d done it. Exciting things tended to happen when Anna was around. No one would ever say that about Charlie. Anna might get into a lot of trouble when she got caught in the neighbor’s fenced backyard, but she was like her hair: vibrant, untamed, alive. She’d think nothing of making herself comfortable on a tree branch twenty feet off the ground (a thought that made Charlie’s knees weaken even when he was safe on the ground).
Anna, the older and braver. She used to lead him on terrifying adventures in the woods, just the two of them climbing trees and jumping streams. But he always made it home safe and feeling a little bigger, a little braver, himself. Then he started school and found books (books!) and ways of going on adventures without having to risk life and limb, and so he did.
And one day he looked up and realized Anna had slipped away, preferring to play by herself than with him. Sometimes, Charlie thought, Good riddance to your stupid, reckless adventures, but more often he saw himself through her eyes: a bespectacled, chubby coward, dreaming heroic dreams but too scared to do anything but complete another puzzle book.
“Come on!” Anna called, and Charlie hurried up.
“I’m just taking it all in,” he said.
“Oh, yeah? What shape is the doorway?” Anna asked.
Charlie thought. He hadn’t noticed. “Rectangular,” he said. “All doors are.”
“Wrong. It’s arched, like in a medieval castle,” Anna said, grinning. She looked better than she had when they’d left home early that morning. The storm in her eyes seemed more lively than angry, and even her bright red hair seemed to gleam.
She’s found something she likes here, Charlie thought. Good.
Odd, how he could completely miss the shape of the door but notice his sister’s change of mood. Maybe it was the change that made it noticeable. A door was a door, but a smile had become rare.
Please like it here, Charlie thought. We could have a good time together.
They entered the main hall and both kids stopped, mouths open. Charlie had never seen a house like this. Dark wood panels made up the walls, and the floor was spread with a lush red-and-gold carpet. To the left was an ornate door with flowers carved all over it, with a statue of a dragon to its right. An identical dragon statue sat across the room, staring at its mate. Chandeliers tinkled overhead, and straight ahead was a grand staircase. The overall effect was like a hunting lodge meshed with a palace.
Anna grinned. “This might be great,” she said.
Charlie grinned back. Anna seemed closer to him than she had for a long time. “As long as you don’t break anything,” he teased.
The storm returned. “I don’t break things!” she said. “I’m not completely hopeless.”
“I didn’t say you were,” Charlie said, but he wasn’t able to finish.
A man came out of a side door (not the one with the carved flowers) and approached them. “Hello,” he said. “I assume your parents are coming?”
Charlie saw Anna stiffen beside him, though he wasn’t sure why. The man, older than Charlie’s parents, wore a neat suit, gray like his hair, and he was smiling. Maybe it was because the smile was odd, held just a little too tight. This man doesn’t like kids, he thought. That must have been what Anna saw. It was like a code. In any problem or code, once you found the thing that stuck out, like a stray thread, you could pull and easily unravel the rest. If the man’s smile was unusual, there was a reason for it. It didn’t take much to figure out the reason.
Charlie’s parents entered the hall, carrying their own luggage. “Anna, don’t run off like that!” their dad said.
“I just wanted to go inside. Isn’t that what we’re supposed to do?” Anna said.
The gray man approached Charlie’s parents. “Welcome to Idlewood. I’m Evan Llewellyn, the owner. We’re happy to have you here.”
“Happy to be here,” Charlie’s mom said. “We’re the Hendersons. You have a magnificent house.”
“I rather think so,” Mr. Llewellyn said. He glanced around the room, and his smile seemed to stiffen even more. He handed the Henderson parents a packet of papers. “A history of the house is in there, as well as the activities itinerary and meal menus for the weekend. Now, I’m sure you have had a long journey and would like to see your suite.”
“Yes, please,” Charlie’s mom said.
Mr. Llewellyn nodded. “You’re in Suite Five. Upstairs, third door on the left. We have ten groups staying this weekend and only ten suites, so you shouldn’t have to go too far to find yours. If you would like to explore the house, I recommend asking me for a tour. There’s nothing I don’t know about Idlewood, and,” he added, looking straight at Anna, “many of our displays are rather breakable.”
Charlie grabbed Anna’s hand. “Come on.”
He tugged her toward the stairs. She pulled free but kept walking with him. “What was that for?” she asked.
“I thought you were going to say something stupid,” Charlie said.
Anna scowled. “I know when to keep my mouth shut, Charlie.”
She walked ahead of him, counting doors, and just like that, the distance was back between them.
People are puzzles, Charlie thought. Once you found the odd thing out, you could solve them. But it seemed like no matter how hard he tried to puzzle out what had gone wrong between him and Anna, there was another layer of codes to uncover.
* * *
“It’s magnificent,” Emily’s mother said as they pulled up beside a dented sedan. Her eyes never left Idlewood Manor.
“Exquisite,” Emily’s father said. He was using his eyes to park the car, but as historians, both he and Em- ily’s mother had spent hours poring over old photos of the manor, reading deeply into the writings left behind about it. He could appreciate it from memory.
Emily Shaughnessy had looked at all the old photos, too, but now she gazed up at the old house, tingling with as much excitement as if she were about to meet a movie star. Idlewood, built in 1885, turned into a hotel a mere fifty-odd years later. It hadn’t lasted long as a hotel: The Great Depression closed a lot of small inns, and Idlewood was no exception. It lay vacant for years before being bought about thirty years ago by a private owner who closed everything but the main floor and rented out the ballroom for gala events, like weddings and murder mystery parties. No one had lived in Idlewood for decades—until now, for one weekend only.
The history radiated out of the house and the land around it, making Emily’s twelve years feel like a blink of an eye. She hugged her book (wrapped in a brown paper bag and marked MATH) and smiled. “Hello, Idlewood.”
Her dad stopped the car but made no move to leave it. Neither did Emily’s mother, nor Emily herself. They sat silently for a moment, and then Emily’s parents turned to her. “Are you ready?” her dad said. “Do you know what to do?”
“Dad, we’ve been over it a million times. It’s not that hard.”
“We know,” her mom said. “But there was that last time with the mansion in Northern California. After that, we can’t assume … we just have to be careful.”
Emily looked out the window. A couple of kids, a redheaded girl and a chunky boy with glasses, were entering the building. “I get it,” she said. “I can stay quiet.”
That time in California still haunted her parents. They’d come home pale and silent, and for weeks Emily had buzzed at dinner about a book she was reading about Nefertiti and forgotten pharaohs, anything to distract her historian parents from what had happened. She’d do what she could to prevent a repeat.
Her mom nodded. “Thank you.”
“I’ve got it. But you know, I could help you out. No one’s going to think twice about a kid exploring the house—”
“There’s no need for that,” her mom said. “This is our work, honey. We’re glad you’re so willing to help, but your job is to enjoy the weekend and not draw attention to us.”
“Okay,” Emily said, her heart deflating. But then she forced a smile on her face and let it trick her insides into expanding again. “It’ll be fun,” she said. She grinned. “I can’t wait to see Idlewood!”
“That’s what I like to hear,” her father said, smiling. “Now, let’s go see the house that Gardner built.”
Emily carried her suitcase, plus her schoolbag, complete with her book—and a cheap yellow-and-pink Polaroid camera that she’d gotten for Christmas when she was six. She stopped outside the arched doors, falling far behind her parents, and snapped her first picture of the outside of Idlewood Manor. She tucked the picture away and closed her bag tightly before her parents could see the camera.
They might have made her leave her phone behind (they were sneaking theirs in), and they might want her to sit back and enjoy the vacation, but Emily had other plans.
Walking into the house, camera on her person, gave Emily a bit of a rush. On this one weekend, and after years of hearing her parents talk about their historical work, Emily was finally joining them in the field. Sure, they didn’t know she was, but maybe dreamcrushers like the tall man who approached them would keep the adults locked into intense schedules, and they’d have to invite Emily to join them on the job.
Emily knew she could be helpful. But for now, she had to be quiet and stay hidden. Her parents greeted Mr. Llewellyn, the owner, but she stayed behind. She didn’t really want him looking at her, remembering her. Her long black hair shielded her face, and she hunched her shoulders, acting younger than she was.
“And this is Emily,” her mom said. “Say hello, Emily.”
“’Lo,” Emily mumbled, holding her bag closer.
“Hmm,” her mom said. “She’s not usually this shy.”
“Shy kids don’t bother me,” Mr. Llewellyn said. He turned to Emily. “I hope you don’t have any phones or cameras in that bag. We want to keep this retreat just that: a retreat from all modern inconveniences.”
Well, of course. Cell phones would ruin everything for you, wouldn’t they? And what could cameras reveal that you want hidden? Though Emily really did like the idea of returning to an older time, if only for pretend. Until the day real time travel was invented, this was the closest thing.
“No,” Emily said meekly. “Just my homework.”
“Math,” her mother said.
“Very good,” Mr. Llewellyn said. “There’s another math student staying here this weekend. Maybe you two could work together.” He turned back to Emily’s parents, his tone a little warmer. “It’s very nice to meet you. You’ll be in Suite Two. First door on the right. We have ten groups checked in, including you, and ten rooms. Your check-in materials are all in the packet I gave you. If you have any questions or if you’d like a tour, please see me. I’d be happy to help you in any way.”
Help us? Help the house, maybe. Protect it from careless kids breaking priceless antiques. Mr. Llewellyn struck Emily as the kind of man who liked children fine, but only after they’d celebrated their eighteenth birthday.
Emily’s parents thanked him, and they all went up to their room. As she stepped inside, Emily gasped at the beautiful walls with their painted landscape of Rome and the marble statues decorating the shelves and corners.
“We have the Rome suite,” she breathed. She’d read that in the old days, the hotel had featured suites themed around different countries and cities, but she half thought Mr. Llewellyn would have ditched the theming. Was it politically correct to have one of the suites “China-themed” and another “India-themed”?
Still, like her parents said, looking at history did mean looking at all of it, the good and bad, and understanding it in context, and—looking at the large mural of a busy Roman market—Emily was glad that the room, at least, was the same as it had always been, as decreed by Mrs. Gardner. The previous owner of the house, before dying in South Carolina, had left provisions in her will that the house never be changed from what it was, and it looked like her orders were still being carried out.
It was one more way Idlewood was unique.
“We just need a Colosseum and this would be complete,” her dad joked, sitting on a plush purple couch.
Emily tied back her hair and looked around. “Why is there a statue of Athena in here? That’s Greek, not Roman.”
“Probably a mistake,” her mother said. “Or perhaps the statue has a history we don’t know about, and this is actually Minerva, the Roman version of Athena. Though the style does look very Greek. Pity about the crack, though.” She touched the statue’s shoulder, where something must have broken or cut through the stone.
“I wonder.” Emily pulled the Idlewood history page out of the packet, skimmed it, and laughed. “Very basic. Not very helpful in identifying our marble friend.” She sat on the bed. “Either way, I like it here.”
“Emmy, your room is that way,” her dad said.
“Maybe you can get to work on that math homework,” her mom said as Emily went to find her bedroom.
She found her own bed tucked in a small room painted sky blue and marble white. It was rather pretty, but she wasn’t here to take in the sights. She set her bag on the bed and took out her book and camera.
She opened the book, but instead of pages full of math problems, images of Idlewood filled each page. It was a somewhat more detailed history of the house, brand-new, self-published, from Jerry and Flora Shaughnessy, Emily’s parents. Her parents’ research was detailed and sound. But even the best historians’ work meant nothing if it didn’t impact the present world. What had happened in Northern California was proof of that.
Emily pulled a folded packet of papers from the crease, smiled at it, and then returned it to the book. Her parents would freak if they knew she’d brought that with her! But it was necessary. It was important evidence about Idlewood’s past. Besides, it wasn’t like she’d brought the original. It was an expendable photocopy.
She turned the page, hiding the papers, to a picture of the Gardner family, Elaine and Everett and their three kids. “Don’t worry,” Emily said to Elaine’s smiling face. “I won’t fail.”
Grinning, she closed the book and scooped up the camera. With only three days to work, there was no time like the present. She would show her parents what she could do.
Copyright © 2020 by Allison K. Hymas
