“What kind of treasure?” Jen asks, wide-eyed, as she nibbles on a piece of bread.
“A very long time ago, a group of wealthy men hid secrets. The kind that people would kill for…”
She stares off. “Riches, power, and terrible, terrible secrets. Rumors started when I was young that all the powerful families involved with Rockefeller Amherst University were involved. Now their remaining estates have been hunted for clues.”
“Feel free to take any of this personally… you are certifiable and boring,” Mya says without looking up from her phone.
JJ and Rett keep looking at each other. Deo almost drops his fork. Is this because they share Mya’s opinion, or because they think thereisa treasure?
“I’m sorry about your friend Henry Tullis,” JJ says carefully.
I don’t remember her mentioning a friend of hers passing. But I’ve been distracted plenty since we’ve been here.
Aunt Amy sets her napkin down on the plate in front of her, lips pursed. “He knew it was coming,” she responds.
Everyone immediately finds the floor or ceiling very interesting, her blunt reply catching us off guard.
As dinner wraps, we all congregate in the parlor. Aunt Amy can be heard in the kitchen talking the chef’s ear off.
JJ picks up a fancy cane in a stand by the window. “‘Ol sport, this evening has rendered me most amused.”
“This is gonna sound horrible,” Silas says as he sits next to me.
“Then don’t say it. Don’t,” his cousin glares at him.
Do they normally clash, or is tonight special because we’re here? Siler’s normally sunny mood is absent, or maybe Aunt Amy is grating on their nerves.
“Your new friends seem nice,” Siler says.
They’re not you.
With four bedrooms, the sleeping arrangements get tricky. Jen clings to Liz immediately. Mya and Deo claim the room farthest from the stables because of the horse odors, and Ichoose to room with Siler since he doesn’t know JJ or Rett well enough to share a bed.
Once Liz and Jen head to bed, Rett perks up, playing off JJ’s clowning around.
I’m in shambles.
Those damn face cards. It takes an insane amount of beauty to stand next to Siler and outshine him.
“I think it looks dashing, m’lord.” I joke to JJ, who has donned a tweed flat cap and a silk scarf from a display in the corner.
“Right-o. ’Tis fire, my liege,” Rett says with a laugh.
“Are you muppets trying to do a British accent?” Deo asks, entering the room with a bottle of booze he found somewhere. “Lame. So lame.”
He takes a swallow, then passes the bottle to Siler.
Rett puts his hands up. “You don’t want whatever garbage I have. Pass.”
I shake my head. I’m not about to find out how alcohol interacts with the medications I’m taking.
The bottle makes it through three rounds before Mya comes to drag her boyfriend away, abandoning it half-empty. Irritated, he's tipsy and loud.
“Good thing I’m only attracted to jawlines,” she says, pulling him away from us. “Not a thought in your head.”
Rett and Siler disappear while JJ pulls me over to a painting. Another by E.B. Houseman, this one strikes me as strange. Every other piece I’ve seen, whether a sketch or a painting, has been a realistic portrait. But this one is abstract. Light filtering through water or clouds.
A pinching sensation starts in my chest.
