Chapter Twenty-Two
Bizzy (Elizabeth)
Siler has been on the bench for most of the game, only entering for one play. As each minute ticks by, his head hangs lower. I’m watching him intently when his cousin taps me on the shoulder.
“Come with me,” she orders.
All our companions look at her in alarm.
She hasn’t said a word to me the entire drive or most of the game.
“Be right back,” I say quietly. My heart is a flopping fish. It doesn’t matter that the medication change has given me a reprieve; she has me shaking as I follow her out of the auditorium.
I’m not prepared when she spins around to face me, arms crossed, the tendons in her neck sticking out. “E-fucking-nough. What are you doing? You gave Liz the bracelet Siler gifted you? Are you literally brain-dead?”
My mouth drops open, but no words come out.
Pacing in front of me, she pulls her hair into a ponytail in angry jerks. “First you befriend her, now you give her the bracelet. It’s like you’re determined to-”
“Don’t be daft.” Deo walks around me. “Bizzy, please excuse Mya, her blood sugar must be low. She’s making no sense. We’ll just go find her something to nosh on.”
She lights into him as he steers her away.
I don’t regret getting rid of the bracelet. When I realized on our drive that Jen gave it to her after she and Rett broke up, it didn’t bother me at all.
Now I’m wondering if I should’ve tossed it at the airport. It’s a beautiful piece of jewelry, no denying that, but I can barely stand to look at it.
On top of Siler being on the bench, his team may lose since they’re down fifteen points. She’ll tell him I gave his gift away, and it’s the last thing I want.
To make our visit uncomfortable and contentious.
What if it’s the last time?
JJ comes to find me as I walk back into the game. “Do you want to talk about whatever that was?”
“Mya isn’t happy with me. She’s just protecting her cousin.”
Thankfully, JJ doesn’t press me on it, taking my hand and walking me back to our seats with a faint smile.
By the looks of it, things aren’t going well back in the stands either. Jen is crying, Liz looks tired, and Rett is sitting as far from Jen as he can. I’d hoped this road trip to see Siler would be fun.
Silly me.
Duke University loses by twenty points to West Point Academy. Not that we paid much attention once we were back in our seats. Jen wouldn’t stop talking about Rett “ignoring” her, but with his sweatshirt hood pulled up, he spent most of the game drifting in and out of sleep because of his cold meds.
Now we’re on our way to the house we'll be staying in overnight. The shuffle into Deo’s Range Rover puts me in the middle seats with Jen and Siler, and Liz next to JJ. The hug I get from Siler is reassuring. I was worried he’d let the game ruin our time together.
Good God, I’ve missed him.
Highfair Estate, owned by the Abbott family, is maintained by their aunt. It’s located on the Hudson River, half an hour north of West Point. The main house is an impressive Colonial Revival-style manor, but it’s the stables and grounds that make me want to wander and soak it all in.
“I need to warn you. Aunt Amy is a bit odd. She’s been known to insult people without meaning to, says some strange things… she’s… well, you’ll see. She doesn’t live in the main house anyway, so we won’t see her much.” Siler shrugs. “Hopefully,” he adds under his breath.
I think his cousin being outright insulting has me more than prepared.
Without keys, we gather by the oversized black double doors with a lion’s head knocker to wait for his aunt. “You let her know we’re coming, right?” Siler asks Mya.
I’m drawn toward the brick path lined with rose bushes that lead to the stables. Without thinking, I’m halfway down the hill when Siler jogs up behind me, JJ not far behind. Their meeting went well, like I had hoped it would.
“Hey, Biz? Where are you going?” Siler half laughs. “We just got here, and you’re already exploring?”
I follow them back up to the house, but a nagging feeling takes hold, like I’ve been here before.
But that’s not possible.
Minutes later, Aunt Amy pulls up in a golf cart wearing neon green horn-rimmed glasses, denim suspenders over a flannel button-up, and a pair of dirty green rain boots. Her hair cut bluntly, framing her frowning face.
“Why are there eight of you?”
Oh boy. I see Mya comes by her demeanor naturally.
“There’s plenty of room,” Mya quips, taking the keys from her. “Did you cut your own hair with a hedge trimmer? The bangs are a little short, but other than that, I hate it.”
We all nervously watch their interaction. I’m stunned when they both smile broadly at each other and embrace. Siler simply shakes his head in disbelief.
The doors open into a foyer with a vaulted ceiling, fox-hunting wallpaper, and an ornate brushed bronze and crystal chandelier.
Not used to staying in such opulence, I’m the only one gawking at the décor, making mental notes to sketch later - buttery yellows, muted greens, the oak wainscotting, crown molding.
Several paintings line the wall of the corridor leading to the parlor. I stop in my tracks to stare at one: a horse standing majestically on a riverbank, mane blowing in the wind. The artist’s signature in the corner: E.B. Houseman.
My faulty brain is drawing parallels…
“...Do I remember? I’m angry you’re reminding me.” Siler says to Mya, his voice rising. I missed the start of their fight tensing at the prospect of a night spent avoiding outbursts.
“I thought she was going with ‘scaring birds in fields,’” Mya says sharply. “Better than the whole spooky empath schtick.”
JJ stops near me, Rett on his heels looking drowsy.
“What’s the hold up?” their aunt snaps. “Keep going.” She gestures with waving hands.
A private chef prepared a spread of food for a late dinner. A table filled with prime rib, stuffed chicken breast, and every salad imaginable. I’m suddenly famished, remembering I’ve only eaten chips and candy today.
We settle at the table. I have Siler on one side of me and JJ on the other. Our thanks for the meal is barely acknowledged by Aunt Amy. She sits back in her chair with her arms crossed.
“I saw the plaque for the National Register of Historic Places by the door. What year was Highfair Estate built?” Liz asks, setting down a tray of stuffed figs.
“1922,” Mya answers Liz, still on her cellphone, her plate empty.
“Does your family rent it out?” Rett asks, leaning into his hand. “Or do you keep it open to the public for tours? Whoever decorated did an impeccable job.”
Amy raises an eyebrow. “Not anymore. It was renovated ten years ago, then I put an end to it. The nerve of some people, coming here under the guise of history just to treasure hunt.”
That gets our attention, but she follows it up with, “It’s going to be windy tomorrow. You're likely to be killed by a tree branch during the storm unless you stay on top of the hill.”
“Jesus, dramatic much?” Mya mutters.
Odd is one way to describe their aunt. Cracked, possibly. Each interjection gives us whiplash.
“Several very rich people tried to go down to the Titanic in a tuna can. Money doesn’t grant common sense,” she says when asked about the treasure. “The hunt for it dims the senses even further.”
“Typical innit?” Deo asks.
“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 there is a 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 I choose 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.