About this time, he usually went from room to room with a basket of dust rags. She caught up with him in the ballroom. "Excuse me, Otto." She approached him, barely able to breathe from fear of what he'd say. "If it's not too much trouble... would you mind unlocking the den so I can use the telephone? Pearl would've come down, but..."

"Is this an emergency?"

"Yes. Yes, it is."

He finished dusting a candleholder and returned it to its place on the mantel. "Come along, then. I'll unlock it for you."

"Otto?" Emily said as they walked. "I'm finding it odd the way Mr. Schillings has these restrictions on the telephone."

He gave her a look that almost made her regret bringing it up.

"I a I don't intend to sound disrespectful, Otto, it's just that I'm trying to understand."

"I suppose it's something you've heard," he said, glancing over again. "Well, I don't know what you've been told, but to clear Mr. Schillings of any rumors you might've heard, I'll tell you why. But then keep things to yourself, if you will.

"Oh, I won't say a word."

He thought for a moment, studying her face, and then revealed more than she ever expected to hear. "It all started when Mrs. Schillings disappeared. She went to bed one night and never came down to breakfast. The only thing that seemed out of place was a pair of mesh slippers she always wore around the house, unique as could be. Anyway, she left a pair outside Maria's bedroom door. Rumors started flying about how... well, about what happened to her. Then a suicide note was found."

Emily stopped right there in the middle of the room and clutched her chest. "She killed herself? But that's... awful. Do the children know?"

Otto set the basket of rags on a table and continued across the room. "I'm not sure. We've never discussed it." He glanced back as they walked. "Sadly, her car was found in the ocean a few weeks later."

"But, how'd she...?"

"They say she drove herself off a cliff."

Emily shivered, thinking of the beautiful view over the rocky cliff that had taken her breath away.

"The rumors stopped after that, but then Mr. Schillings caught the nanny on the telephone badmouthing him about one thing or another. And that's when he laid down the law about the telephone."

"But I'm not planning anything like... that."

"I would hope not."

"Say, Otto," she said, unable to resist, "uhm... Why doesn't he let Maria get her mail?"

"Mm." He hesitated, raising an eyebrow, and then headed off again. "Listen, Emily, I can't say for certain why he handles things the way he does, but I assure you that he has his reasons. It's not up to me to question him." They stepped into the hallway and he reached back to close the door. "You know, he did mention a while back that the mail won't be coming here any longer. It seems there are people trying to take advantage of the children because of their wealth. You have to understand that he's just trying to protect them."

"Yes, I suppose."

She was amazed how stubbornly loyal Otto was to his boss. Nevertheless, she was glad he cared about the children and didn't jump all over her at every turn.

"You know, Otto, I appreciate you. Bruce, too, but... well, I don't know, it seems that everyone else is so standoffish around here, mysterious in a way. Except for Pearl, there's no mystery about her."

"Yes, she does speak her mind," Otto said, looking as if he might smile. "I think the difference with Bruce and me is that we've been here since, mm... I'd say about a year before Mr. Schillings took over. And as far as the others, well... the boss isn't keen on his help chumming, thinks too many problems arise when they get caught up in each other's business. I'll have to say, having had assignments all over the world, I tend to agree with him. The rule is that everyone keeps to themselves. You see, it's a little different now after everything that's happened."

They reached the library and Otto turned the key, pushing the door open. "There it is, young lady, over on the desk."

She hoped he'd leave her alone. For whatever reason, he seemed compelled to stay and busy himself straightening while she looked up the number and dialed. It rang several times before someone picked up.

"Mack's," came a voice over the noise in the background.

Emily tried to decide if it was Maxine or not. She glanced at Otto, cupped a hand over the mouthpiece, trying to keep her voice down while attempting a decent disguise. "I was wondering if you could get a message to a customer. I'm supposed to meet him there at noon."

"A message for a customer, you say?"

"Yes. Please."

"What's he look like?"

Emily winced. It was Maxine all right. "I a I don't know," she said. "I've never seen him. But his name's Samuel Dimsmoore. And, well, I was wondering if I don't make it... if, if you could please tell him that the girl who was supposed to meet him couldn't make it. Aaand then would you mind telling him where he can find me?"

Maxine sighed. "So, where's that?"

Emily thought for a moment, considering whether she would know Donald Schillings or not.

"Hurry it up I don't have all day. What's his name and address?"

"The guy I'm working for... h-he lives, I don't know." She glanced at Otto again. "I'd say around sixty miles South of San Francisco. You can't miss it with the *no trespassing' signs on either side of a large green gate, and then there's these black initials, a D and an S over top. There's no other like it."

"So what's this fellow's name?"

"Well, uhm." She took another peek at Otto, lowering her voice even more. "Well... it's Don. Don Schillin."

"Donald Schillings? Ha. Emily, is that you?"

"...Yes, it's me."

"I had a hunch all along. You'd better have a bowl of chicken noodle soup or something. You sound awful. So Beatrice already got rid of you, huh?"

Emily could hear the smile in her voice. "No, that's not what happened."

"Remember what I said about wasting your time with that P.O. Box address?"

"I know what you said. Oh, just forget I called. I'm on the way. Tell him I'm on the way."

She hung up, wondering how she was going to pull this off. Yet, she was more determined than ever. No telling what Maxine would say if Samuel showed up.

"Say, Otto, do you drive?"

"Never did. There's really been no need. Besides, Mr. Schillings doesn't like his help cluttering up the yard with cars." He finished watering a plant then looked over. "Why do you ask?"

"Something's come up, but I'll manage okay. Anyway, thanks for helping out."

The children were in class, so she decided to leave a note on Maria's pillow saying she had an appointment, that she'd be back before dinner and to please not tell anyone.

Now all she had to do was find a ride to San Francisco. Short of stealing one of Donald's cars, which would land her in jail for sure, there was only one thing left to do. She would go out to the road and flag down a ride. She had seen it done several times on her way to Watseka. Steven even picked up a man once.

By quarter of ten, she was heading up the long driveway feeling like an ant beneath the redwoods. Whenever she was tempted to go back to the house, she thought of Samuel waiting at the restaurant. She could just see Maxine standing over him with her mouth going like a threshing machine. The vision made her move faster.

When she reached the highway, she pulled her skirt up into a knot, scaled the fence, and then got up next to the road and held out an arm to her first potential ride. The closer the car came, the further she stretched her arm, and the faster she bobbed her thumb. The car shot past, and the wind sent her hair flying in every direction and her skirt flapping against her shins. Her heart sank as she watched the taillights disappear up the road.

A few minutes later, another car approached. The driver slowed for a look and then sped off again. For nearly an hour, she paced the pavement as car after car zipped by without a glance.

There was a long period of silence, and then all at once she leaned forward and squinted. It was more of a hunch to start with, but it wasn't long before she was certain her boss's limousine was coming up the road. She rushed for a spot of shade beneath some overhanging branches, and then scaled back over the fence. A few minutes later, she watched from behind a tree as Bruce pulled into the driveway and opened the gate. Once the car disappeared up the drive, she climbed onto the road and hightailed it back to the house.

She knew the children were on a break when she approached the kitchen and heard Maria's high-pitched voice concocting a story for Pearl. "She was a little sick last night too," she was saying.

"Now, that's a crock," Pearl said, "because she came to me just this morning wanting to use the phone, going on about a ride to somewhere. And she didn't look sick to me."

"But she..." Maria tried again, although the woman wasn't having it.

"No, something's up with that girl."

Emily winced, put on a smile, and walked around the corner. "Hello, everyone."

"Well, there she is looking as spry as a night owl. Where've you been, anyway?" The little box of a woman dropped a basket of apples onto the counter and glared up at Emily. "I've been wanting to talk to you."

"I'm sorry. What do you need?"

"Turns out I've got urgent matters to take care of and there's a taxi on the way to pick me up. Gabriel isn't around for the next few days so you're gonna have to do some cooking." She pulled a pad from a drawer and dropped it on the counter. "Here's lunch, and dinner menus for the next few days, and there's a casserole in the fridge ready to pop in the oven. Now, you think you can handle it?"

"Oh, sure, I've done plenty of cooking."

Pearl untied her apron, handed it over, then pulled a knife from a drawer, and placed it next to the apples. "There's dough in the fridge for the pie crusts. And make sure to keep a piece cut and wrapped in case Mr. Schillings comes down for a snack. And don't forget, Otto will be around to take up his meals, so have a tray ready."

Pearl turned up the hallway then, calling out instructions. She opened her bedroom door, reached for her suitcase, and came back into the kitchen.

"Oh, and before I forget, I'll be going home for Christmas. I already gave Bruce a gift list from Mr. Schillings and the children. So if you want him to pick something up, you'd better let him know right quick."

She looked down at the children. "You kids behave yourselves now."

"Oh, don't worry, we will," Maria said, turning up her eyes.

Pearl looked at the two a moment longer, then pulled a bag off the counter, draped it over her free shoulder and headed around the corner. Everyone waited silently until the door closed and latched at the end of the foyer.

"Oh, good," Nathan said, heading for the refrigerator. He pulled out a can of Dr. Pepper and left through the patio door.

"Uh, uhm... Emily," Maria trilled. "That's his second pop today."

"Nathan!" Emily hollered after him. "Well, that little..." She sighed, picked up a knife, and an apple. "Okay, then. That means none for tomorrow. Don't let me forget."

"I won't."

Maria pulled up a chair and hopped on the counter. "Guess what? We picked out a gift for you."

"Oh, that's nice," Emily said, although she was disappointed because the children mentioned they went shopping about a week before Christmas. She had hoped to go along and drop off another letter to Samuel Dimsmoore. She really needed to see that man.

Emily thoroughly enjoyed those few days without Pearl, and with that beautiful kitchen all to herself, she frolicked in a state of whimsical fantasy. There were no interruptions, or belligerent demands, and her life became whatever she wanted it to be. One day, while putting together a feast of chicken, mashed potatoes, and a chocolate cake for dessert, she imagined that Michael was on his way home. They would have a lovely dinner with romantic music and candles. Afterward, they would sit by the fire in the family room; even a little wine showed up in her dream, and then much later he kissed her; she let her mind linger there for a while, remembering every moment of that first kiss he gave her.

Pearl came back three days later in the same mood she left in. Emily put it down to her frustration about not being able to pack up and go home for good. As much as that woman wanted to leave, she was more loyal to her boss, which Emily admitted demonstrated a heart under that cold exterior.

The next few weeks passed with a good deal of Emily's time and energy spent wondering what she would do if she wasn't able to keep her final date with Samuel Dimsmoore. She didn't know what the outcome of their meeting would be, although her need to find him was greater than any fear she had of it turning out badly. Just in case she didn't make it to San Francisco again, she wrote him a letter. At the bottom, she daringly gave him her address.

Since Donald canceled mail delivery to the house, her only hope was to give the letter to Bruce to send off. A few days later, she saw him waiting out front in the limousine and ran upstairs to get the letter.

"Sure glad I caught you before you left, Bruce," she said as she handed it over. "Oh, and... uhm, I wouldn't bother bringing this up to anyone, it's rather personal."

"I promise I won't open it," he said, joking.

Donald came down the front steps before she could say more, and she watched the limousine head up the drive, wishing she should've just come out and told Bruce not to let him see the letter. Yet how could she know whether his loyalty would be to her, or to their boss.

She watched the car disappear, and then went around the house and up the walk, expecting a stroll and some good thoughts would take away her uneasiness.

The weather had been mild, with little rain, although it was muggy that day with clouds slowly moving in. The signs were there, and yet she was surprised when she heard a low rumble in the distance. Thunderstorms weren't as common in the area as they were back home, and she didn't take it seriously until it came again.

Those fierce Illinois storms had terrified her since... well, since she could remember. Her grandmother told her how it had stormed the day she was born. Emily didn't know the details, but figured something must've taken place that left its mark on her.

With yet another rumble, a little closer this time, she rushed to the house and to the library where the sounds would be dimmed behind windowless walls.

Maria and Nathan came in after class, as they did so often now, bringing their homework to the library instead of up to their rooms. Later, Otto brought in dinner and set it up next to the fireplace. When it was time for bed, Emily tucked the children in and went to her room.

The storm seemed to have passed, but then she heard the rumble again. It wasn't long before crashing thunder and bolts of lightning lit up the skies. She pulled the covers over her head and clung to her pillow, drifting in and out of sleep through the ebb and flow of the storm.

Then somewhere between a strike and a rumble, she was back at the farm with Kidders, Caesar, Angel, and Tokeep. Her heart leaped for joy as she watched them run across the yard, through the barn and back out again.

She laughed and called to them, but they were having too much fun to notice her. She was so happy that everything was okay, and that she hadn't killed anyone. It was as if all the bad was gone and only the good remained.

All at once, she was at the hearth looking into the kitchen, watching her grandmother put a loaf of bread in the oven. She rose and walked to the table. Her grandmother came and they sat with hot chocolate and cookies, talking just like old times, with the crackling fire at their backs.

Then everything became eerily calm. She was twelve again, and with her chores done, and the sun still up for a few hours, she was walking, like she did sometimes in the early evening, with a book in hand toward the tree house, bringing along a lantern just in case she didn't make it down before dark. She drifted off with the open book across her chest, serenaded by the sounds of a quiet breeze dancing through the trees.

She awoke to nightfall, to the sounds of rain and branches beating at the walls and roof of her little bungalow. Before she could move, a gust of wind rushed through the doorway and blew out the lantern. Then a flash of lightning and a crack of thunder sent a shock of fear straight down to her toes.

She scrambled down the ladder and ran for the house. The skies lit up again and she caught a snag on a branch and hit the ground with another crack of thunder. Wet and soiled now, she pulled herself up and hurried through the wet grass and then across the sodden earth of the barnyard.

Suddenly, Claude stood in front of her with rain dripping off his nose. A woman wobbled up behind him. She giggled drunkenly. "This must be the maiden you got hidin' here. What's her name?"

"Maiden? Ha," Claude hooted, "she's the maid. And her name's Mud. Mud 'cause that's what she is. Look at her!" The two howled with laughter and climbed into his pickup.

"And you're nothing but crap," Emily said as she watched them drive off.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO.