Devin loaded the pet carrier and leash into the back seat of his truck parked in front of his house. He’d spend the morning proofreading the final version of the newspaper before sending it to the printer. After that, he would pick up Bea at the restaurant around noon for their first date. They were going to the pet shelter to get Francis.
The first few days with a rescue animal were critical. Francis was probably missing his owner. The pup might want extra attention, or he could be withdrawn. All Devin could do was try to make Francis comfortable and convey that he was there for him. Given time, the dog would come to realize he was safe.
That sense of being there and safety was what he wanted Bea to feel in their relationship as well.
The one thing that was clear—chemistry existed between them. It had been there from the start. That part of their connection had led them to their one night together, but Bea becoming pregnant could lead to a relationship that went beyond co-parenting. Exploring that possibility didn’t feel like rushing to him but a natural next step. But he had to respect that Bea felt differently.
When she’d mentioned that she hadn’t been able to conceive eight years ago, he’d sensed that she hadn’t received support or maybe even compassion from her now ex-husband. It was understandable that she might want to keep her guard up and not risk getting hurt again.
Done packing up pet supplies, Devin got behind the wheel, started the engine, and headed for work. Traffic leading out of the neighborhood was sluggish, and a few miles down the road he found out why. Construction was happening, and there was a detour before the main road.
Following the directions of the worker managing traffic, he turned left.
Looks like I’m taking the scenic route... Devin settled in for a longer ride to town.
Homes sat back from the side of the road. Every now and then, he passed a ranch and open pastures with cows or horses.
He didn’t travel this way often, but he recognized the area. He was just a few miles from Fortune’s Castle.
The detour ended.
Turning right would lead him back to the four-lane road that would take him to town. But if he went left...
Giving in to the impulse, Devin made a left turn. A short time later, he turned right onto a long tree-lined private driveway. Up ahead, a security gate stretched across the narrow road sat open, and he drove past through it. Yards away in the distance sat Fortune’s Castle.
A short time later, he walked up the cobblestone pathway toward the replica of a medieval castle. The decades-old concrete structure boasted so many features, it was hard to decide what to focus on first—ornate pointed arches, flying buttresses, gargoyles, or the stained-glass windows.
He’d been there once with his father when he’d been a boy. Carl had been covering a special event. The grounds had been open to the public but not the castle.
Devin reached the large wooden door. A speaker was built into the wall on the left, but there wasn’t an intercom button. He used the ornate knocker shaped like a lion’s head in the middle of the door.
Wendell refusing to speak with him was the worst that could happen. Other than that, Devin had nothing to lose.
The older man’s voice came through the speaker. “Hello?”
“Hello, Wendell. It’s Devin from the Chatelaine Daily News.”
“Who?”
He spotted a camera up high and off the side and looked straight into it. “It’s Devin Street. We’ve met before. I own the local newspaper.”
“I know who you are. What do you want?”
“I’m hoping you can clear up some new information I came across about the silver mine accident.” Wanting to get Wendell’s attention, he added, “There’s a young woman in town looking into it as well. Maybe you know her?”
A click echoed from the door as Wendell answered through the speaker. “Come in.”
Devin opened the door and walked into a grand entryway with black-and-white checkerboard floor tiles. An elaborate wrought-iron candelabra hung from the ceiling painted with a Byzantine-style mosaic of peacocks and birds.
Black torch-shaped sconces interspersed with paintings of medieval lords and ladies in outdoor landscapes lined the left side of the wall along with abbey bench seats.
A sweeping ruby-colored carpeted staircase led up to the landing of the second floor.
Whoa... The rumors were right. The castle was strange and oddly magnificent at the same time.
Devin walked to the middle of the entryway and stood by a round glass table. The base of it was three knights in coats of armor holding swords and shields while on bended knee.
From what he’d heard, there were a lot of references to the number fifty cleverly embedded in the paintings and the artwork. And trying to find them was equivalent to a scavenger hunt. That wasn’t surprising considering how the older generations of the Fortune family were all a big mystery.
“Wendell?” he called out.
A door on the right framed by an arch opened.
Wendell stood in the doorway. “I’m here.”
The older man’s bushy gray beard almost swallowed his gaunt face. A gray cardigan, white button-down and jeans hung loosely on this thin frame.
Devin walked to Wendell. “Thanks for taking a minute to talk to me this morning.”
As they shook hands, Wendell’s grip was weak and his hand felt cold and frail. Weariness shadowed his blue eyes. “You drove all the way out here. You must have something important to ask.”
Important? Wendell clearly wasn’t well. Maybe Devin shouldn’t have disturbed him. A hint of regret pinged inside of him as he followed the older man inside the room.
“Have a seat.” Wendell shuffled across the black-and-silver rug and dropped into the leather chair behind a large, polished wood desk. Behind him, floor-to-ceiling shelves with books filled the entire wall.
Devin sat in the red upholstered chair across from him. He pulled up the Notes app on his phone. “The questions I have won’t take up too much of your time. I’ve been looking through a series of articles written by the paper about the mining accident. One name keeps popping up—Clint Wells.”
“That’s not surprising.” Wendell’s face remained neutral as he settled himself in the chair. “He was the foreman.”
“Yes. And he had a wife, Gwenyth, and an eighteen-year-old daughter, Renee. Do you remember what happened to them?”
“They left town soon after the accident. I don’t know where they went, and it’s been my understanding that no one’s heard from them since.”
“Clint was initially blamed for the accident. Did anyone attempt to let them know other parties may have been involved and that he possibly wasn’t to blame?”
Wendell’s eyes briefly narrowed as he cleared his throat. “By other parties, you mean my brothers, Edgar and Elias.”
“Yes. The accusations were damning and most likely led to them leaving town.”
“As far as I know, no one reached out to them with that information. And it might not have made a difference to them. Clint was gone along with the other forty-nine miners.”
“Or possibly fifty-one miners, like the notes have claimed?”
Agitated, Wendell waved him off. “Clint’s widow is in her eighties now, and their daughter is in her fifties. I’m sure they would just like to continue to go on with their lives. No one wants to remember that terrible time.”
“Respectfully, I have to disagree. The person who wrote the notes does. And a young woman spent most of an afternoon in my office looking up this information.”
“A young woman? Who?” Wendell demanded.
“Her name is Morgana. She’s new to the area.”
“I don’t know who she is. And I don’t have the answer to your questions.”
The old man’s implacable expression signaled the meeting was over.
Devin stood. “Well, I appreciate your time. And if you do remember something, I hope you’ll reach out to me so we can get the real story on record and end the speculation.”
Wendell opened his mouth as if to say something but paused. “I’ll keep that in mind. Forgive me for not walking you to the door. I’m a little tired.”
“Not at all. I’ll show myself out.” Devin went to the office door. Before he walked out he looked back.
Wendell was staring at a series of black-and-white photographs in silver frames hanging on the side wall. As he rested a hand on his forehead, he sank wearily back in his seat.
Later that afternoon, Devin was on the road with Bea headed to the Chatelaine Veterinary Clinic, where the pet shelter was located.
She looked casual and cute in jeans, a peach-colored sweatshirt, and tennis shoes.
They were just outside of town. Traffic on the four-lane road started to thin out as cars pulled into the parking lot of the Saddle & Spur Roadhouse and, farther up, GreatStore.
Devin glanced over at Bea. She hadn’t said much since he’d picked her up. Last night, she’d told him things were going well at the restaurant. Had that changed?
Settling in for the half-hour ride, he set the cruise control for a little higher than the speed limit. Visiting Fortune’s Castle had put him behind schedule. “Thanks for coming with me this afternoon. I know you’re busy. Now that the opening is over, how are things going?”
“Good.” A distracted expression was on her face as she smiled. “What about you?”
“The usual. The paper is with the printer now, and we’re not anticipating any major distribution issues tomorrow. And I’m working on stories for the next edition.” He cleared his throat, then went on to say, “Oh, and I went to see your uncle today. I wanted to talk to him about the foreman who’d worked at the Fortunes’ silver mine when the accident happened.”
“That was nice.” Bea tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and looked out the window.
Nice? Had she even heard him? “Space creatures from Venus were involved.”
“Venus?” She looked at him. “What are you talking about?”
“Just checking to see if you were with me. You seemed preoccupied about something.”
“I am...just a little.” She sighed. “Okay, maybe more than a little. I came across an article online with information for expectant moms, and I kind of fell down a rabbit hole.”
“I’m guessing it was a deep one?”
“Yes. There were all these lists.” She grimaced. “Actually they were lists within a list within another list.”
He furrowed a brow. “What do you mean?”
“For instance, on the newborn-essentials checklist, there’s baby gear, and all the stuff needed for feeding, and diapering. And then there were suggestions from real moms about what to do and what not to do. The diapering issue...wow. I didn’t know there was such a huge debate about cloth or disposable. I usually like lists, but this was...intimidating.”
The days of parental judgment and guilt in figuring out what to do with a newborn...he remembered them well. It wasn’t surprising Bea was feeling overwhelmed. “From my experience, while lists can be helpful, everyone’s childcare experiences are different. You’ll find ways and hacks for circumstances that work for you.”
Bea gave him a skeptical look. “Including diapering hacks?”
“As strange as that may sound, yes. I still remember a few. Things like using a practical onesie versus those ones with all the snaps and buttons. When you’re changing lots of diapers—trust me, simple is the way to go. And having an emergency diaper stash in almost every room and the car is a must.”
She laughed. “It sounds like you’re remembering just fine.”
“I’m sure more will come back to me. But at the same time, after thirteen years, I’m sure some of the practices have changed.”
“I thought sorting through food recipes to find the right one was stressful.” Bea worried her lower lip, then sighed. “There’s just so much to take in.”
Devin reached out and laid his hand over Bea’s resting on her thigh. “But you don’t have to take it in all at once. The key is don’t be afraid to ask, especially when you need something from me.”
“You’re right,” she replied softly.
Most of the apprehension left Bea’s face, but from the look in her eyes, something was still on her mind.