Chapter 34. Jade
Jade
When I arrive for work, I’m surprised to see a sweet vintage car parked in front of the big fountain. It’s not a vehicle that I’ve seen here before. Visitors aren’t frequent, so this is curious.
The little beauty in the circular driveway is a cherry-red Alfa Romeo convertible—no clue about the year.
It has chrome wheels and a sleek, sporty interior with black leather seats, red piping, and spotless plush carpeting.
The old me would be thinking about stripping and twisting the battery and ignition wires to get the engine started.
But I’m New Leaf Jade—with an honest job and a side gig as a self-appointed sleuth.
Sid greets me at the door. “Jade, what a lovely surprise. Congratulations, you’ve already beaten our average attrition rate.”
I shrug. “What can I say? I’m a glutton for punishment.”
He almost smiles. “I try to limit my gluttony to sweet cream and berries—doesn’t always work.”
Castle Carmichael is as cold and uninviting as ever, but Sid’s a little warmer.
Even so, with his long limbs and sallow, wrinkled skin, he reminds me of a smokestack in a dying factory town.
I follow him into the foyer. He moves like the Tin Man.
I imagine he’d need half a quart of oil just to muster a genuine grin.
“Maeve is on a planning call for her benefit party,” he tells me in his low, droll voice. “Word of warning—at the last Barefoot Beach Ball, half the guests were drunk enough to go skinny-dipping. I’m telling you this in case you prefer to duck out early. Some things can’t be unseen.”
“Appreciate the heads-up,” I say.
“Also, Maeve asked me to give you some paperwork to file, but first, Conrad would like a word.”
A word? That sounds ominous.
I hear voices coming from Conrad’s office. Maybe one belongs to the driver of that old car. Since Conrad is occupied, I decide to mine Sid for information. We’re not exactly besties, but in a house where staff come and go like dandelion seeds on the wind, he remains rooted. Who better to ask?
I sidle up to him before he can slip away. “So, uh, Sid—” I say with added cheer. “I have a question for you.”
He turns, surveying me with dull gray eyes from high above. “Y-e-s-s-s.” He elongates the word like a creaky door.
“I was walking the grounds with Conrad—I’m sorry, Mr. Carmichael—and we passed by an old ruin. I guess it was a guesthouse once? Do you know what happened to it?” My voice catches. Not surprising—I’ve dipped a toe into murky water.
I didn’t think it was possible, but Sid gets even stiffer.
His jaw tightens ever so slightly, and he squints as he leans toward me.
I have a disturbing vision of him keeling over and crushing me under his dead weight.
His breath carries something sharp and tangy—booze?
Is Old Sid a closet drinker? Honestly, I wouldn’t blame him.
“Jade,” he says, his voice as joyless as a grave, “I don’t ask questions about the Carmichaels’ affairs. I keep to myself and do as I’m told. I strongly advise you do the same.”
He finally smiles, but it’s too wide and too empty, calling to mind a jack-o’-lantern.
Old Sid slinks off, leaving me rattled … but as a distraction, I decide to eavesdrop on Conrad’s conversation.
He’s still in his office. I glance around for Maeve or Rose.
The coast is clear. I press myself against the wall beside the door and listen.
I hear two people talking: Conrad and a voice I recognize as Dr. Hill, the one who looked after Maeve after she fainted.
It sounds like a business meeting—professional tone, no raised voices, very matter-of-fact.
Conrad: “So we should increase the dosage?”
“Absolutely,” says Dr. Hill. “Her condition isn’t going to improve.”
They must be talking about Maeve. Is she really that sick? Is it terminal? Their voices grow somber as they discuss specific medications and her prognosis. I’m not familiar with the drugs, but they sound heavy-duty. Is that why Maeve’s throwing this party in such a hurry?
“I’m so sorry it’s come to this,” Conrad says, his voice tinged with emotion. “Does Mother know?”
“No. Not yet.”
“How long does she have?”
Dr. Hill exhales loudly. “It’s hard to say. Could be months, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s less.”
I cover my mouth. Poor Maeve. Now I’m worried the stress of this party might speed things up. I step away from the wall just in time. Conrad and Dr. Hill emerge from the office together.
My heart’s pounding, and it’s not just the adrenaline from almost getting caught. I’m thinking about Maeve—bitchy as she is—heading for the end. Why do I even care? But I do. I feel … sad. Like, I want to comfort her.
Come on, Jade, I tell myself. You don’t get paid enough for that.
Conrad approaches. He gently takes hold of my arm, like he’s glad I’m there. “Jade, you remember Dr. Vernon Hill. He was here the day you started working for us.”
I laugh, but it’s more like a squeak, as if he made a joke—but it’s only nervous energy escaping.
“Oh yeah, of course. When your mom had her fainting spell.” I try to mask my emotions, but worry my eyes are giving me away.
Maeve is dying and she doesn’t even know it yet.
“So, is that your car out front?” I ask Dr. Hill, trying to be conversational. “It’s a sweet ride.”
Dr. Hill flashes me a smile, his bushy mustache arching. “Ah, you’re pretty young to be interested in such old things,” he says. “And you have good taste. That’s a 1958 Alfa Romeo Giulietta. It’s a four-cylinder with four on the floor—a classic roadster.”
“Dr. Hill sort of lives in the past,” Conrad explains. “He’s got antique cars, a vintage motorcycle, and he even restored a 1970s motorboat that’s a real beauty now. If it’s not old, it’s not worth his time.”
Dr. Hill chuckles. “Guilty as charged. But at least my medicine is up-to-date.”
Conrad smiles warmly. “The doc here has been our family physician since I was a boy. A true pillar of the community.”
“The way you’re describing me, I could be classified as an antique.”
They share a laugh, and I feel compelled to join.
Vernon’s appearance supports his observation.
He’s wearing a tweed jacket and worn loafers.
The black doctor’s bag in his right hand is made of aged leather, and in his left, he holds his signature fedora.
This guy puts the folk in folksy—but I overheard the list of pills he’s prescribing Maeve, so I know he’s no joke.
“They don’t make things like they used to,” Dr. Hill says. “Quality clothing lasts, same as those old cars. You just have to know how to take care of things.”
“Like this watch,” says Conrad, who lifts his shirtsleeve to reveal an elegant timepiece.
The face is deep black, shiny as a mirror.
Slim gold hands move smoothly past the delicate baton markers indicating each hour, encased in domed crystal as if time itself were captured inside a snow globe.
The watchband resembles a gold mesh bracelet, with tightly woven links that can bend like fabric.
“This is an Omega Seamaster De Ville—a true relic of the 1960s,” he says, with odd reverence for an era that he didn’t actually live through. “It was Baxter’s—older than I am, but still works as if it were new.”
“Simple yet elegant—the perfect timepiece for the man who appreciates quiet status,” says Dr. Hill.
“It looks great,” I say. While I’m not really sure how much to gush over a watch, I do know that it’s time to get back to business. “Um, Sid mentioned you wanted to talk to me?”
Conrad offers a nod goodbye to Dr. Hill, along with a muted thank-you, and sends him on his way. I mean, what do you say to the guy who just told you your mother is going to die?
“Come into my office,” Conrad says. “I have news for you.”
My muscles tense. Am I getting fired? I mentally prepare my plea to stick around because I have to be here—for Holly, for the story. But if I’m forced out, at least I won’t have to watch Maeve slowly decline.
Before Conrad has a chance to say anything, I blurt: “Please don’t fire me. I really need the money.”
Conrad tilts his head. “Fire you? Jade, you’re doing a great job. In fact, I spoke to my mother earlier, and apparently you’ve impressed her quite a bit.”
I gulp. “Oh … wow, okay. Plot twist.”
“You’re getting something of a promotion,” he says, eyebrows raised as if the news surprises him as well. “I have to say, it’s a rare person who receives a compliment from Maeve Carmichael. You should be flattered.”
“Sure—yeah, like, super cool,” I say, though I’m really just confused. I didn’t do anything other than what Sid advised. I did my job and mostly kept my mouth shut. “What’s the promotion?” I ask.
“You’ll still be clearing out my stepfather’s belongings, but now you’ll also be helping with some of the last-minute party preparations.
Of course, you’ll make more per hour with the added responsibilities.
Mother can fill you in on the details. I would help, but my planning skills are woefully lacking—I don’t even plan my lunch. ”
There’s sadness in his smile. I project that he’s thinking about planning a funeral.
“Mother is upstairs resting. I wanted to catch you first, in case you don’t want the extra responsibility. This party means a lot to my mother. It’s going to be stressful.”
“I can handle it,” I insist, certain he can detect my hesitation. The last thing in the world I want is Maeve Carmichael riding me like a donkey for her sandy fiesta, but my mission outweighs all my reservations.
Before I can offer additional assurance that I’m the girl for the job, an alert on Conrad’s phone distracts him. He sends me off with an apologetic, albeit dismissive, wave. Clearly it’s an important call. Private, too, for he shuts his office door as soon as I exit.
I return to the echoing foyer, feeling off-kilter. This family sure knows how to throw me for a loop. I thought Maeve couldn’t stand me, and here she is, offering a promotion.
I’m not paying attention to where I’m going when I nearly collide with the housekeeper, Rose, who appears to be rushing for the door.
She’s wheeling a small suitcase and has a black bag slung over her shoulder.
She’s dressed in her work outfit—gray pants and a white button-down shirt—but doesn’t have her apron on.
“Oh! I’m sorry,” I stutter. “Is everything okay? You seem to be in a hurry.”
Rose checks her surroundings as if nervous she’ll be overheard. “No, everything is not okay. Unfortunately, my mother is very sick. I need to fly back home to be with her.” Her eyes fill with worry. “I won’t be returning.”
I recall Conrad’s earlier observation that employment here is akin to a carousel—round and round, they come and go. Now Rose is departing.
“Maeve did not take the news well, so be warned—she’s in a foul mood.”
I grimace, expecting the worst. “Thanks for the heads-up, and I’m so sorry about your mother. Where does she live?”
“In Tennessee. I’ve missed it. I don’t like New England weather, but—well, I have my reasons for coming to Beauport. Just like you, Jade. I’ve seen you snooping around.”
Shit.
Rose adjusts the light sweatshirt draped over her arm. We lock eyes. Her expression is hard to understand—it’s part warning, part encouraging.
“No, you’ve got me all wrong,” I say. “I just needed a job, and this fell into my lap.”
Rose’s smile is telling. “Okay, if you say so. But trust me.” She pulls me close. Her grip on my wrist is firm as she puts her lips beside my ear. “If I were you, I’d hurry out the door as well. The money isn’t worth it.”
I pull back. Her candor surprises me, though not so much I can’t push for more. I keep my voice low. “Rose, what’s up in the tower—and why doesn’t Conrad want me anywhere near this place at sunrise and sunset?”
Rose’s expression darkens. “This family guards its secrets carefully. I’ve been here a long time trying to get answers of my own.
If my mother weren’t ill, I’d probably stay and suffer more of Maeve’s abuse.
” Her eyes dart about as if the walls have ears.
“But if you find out anything, anything at all, will you promise to call me?” She presses a card into my hand.
“Sure,” I say, though her request shocks me. Rose and I have barely exchanged three words, and I’m suddenly her lifeline? Strange. “What exactly should I be looking for?”
“I wish I knew,” she responds cryptically, heading for the door.
An Uber is waiting in the driveway. I help load her luggage into the trunk.
“I can tell you have a good soul,” she says, speaking to me through an open window from the back seat.
“I don’t want you to create more problems on my account.
But if you’re determined to look in places you shouldn’t, be very careful.
If this family finds out you’re prying into their secrets, there’s no telling what they’ll do.
Trust me, they can make people disappear. ”
Without further explanation, the car pulls away. Rose waves goodbye. I watch the car head down the drive.
The day is already warm, and yet a fierce chill has sunk into my bones. I shake it off. Rose might have departed under vague circumstances, but I’m still here and feel more determined than ever to get to the bottom of things. If that means sucking up to Maeve Carmichael, my lips are already pursed.
I head back inside, pausing at the door to the tower. I could try one of the keys in my pocket, but I don’t dare go snooping, not right now. Rose’s words of warning linger.
Standing by the door, I hear a sound from high above.
I listen intently, almost daring to put my ear to the keyhole.
For a moment, all is silent. This house feels strangely alive, like it’s breathing, talking, calling to me, but it won’t tell me its secrets.
All it gives me are the few notes of that same, vaguely familiar piano melody, set on repeat, drifting down from atop the mysterious tower where I am not permitted to go.
I hear footsteps approaching from the kitchen.
“Maeve is ready for you,” says Sid.
But am I ready for her? Doubtful, but at least I have a plan. Checking my phone, I do some simple math: There are about seven more hours until sunset.