Chapter Six

Elise breathed a small sigh of relief as she stepped in the dark, cool interior of Timberline’s library on the first floor of the enormous house.

Betsy had fallen asleep a few minutes before and Elise finally had a few hours to herself to collect her thoughts and reflect on the day.

The day, which had begun with a burst of sunshine blaring through the east facing windows in her bedroom, signaling the start of the day better than any alarm clock she’d ever owned.

She had ambled downstairs after taking a shower and getting ready to see Rose already rambling around the kitchen, fresh coffee at the ready and breakfast nearly so.

It was mere minutes after they had finished and cleared the dishes and Elise had poured herself another cup of coffee that Betsy has burst through the door like a whirling dervish, and the day had flown from there.

Elise never did finish that second cup of coffee, she mused, stepping further into the hushed room. The library was filled with bookshelves stuffed with titles, overstuffed easy chairs and dark wood furniture – it was obviously designed to be quite the haven for a book lover. She was loath to turn on the light, and instead meandered in the growing darkness, her fingers trailing over the leather bindings of the books, a faint smile on her lips.

It had been a good first day, she thought happily.

Betsy Devlin was definitely a force of nature. Bubbly and good natured, she also appeared to be an inquisitive, attentive, intelligent girl with a love of anything pink and frilly, a fondness for ice cream sandwiches, and an easy smile. Though Elise could already detect moments of profound sorrow when she thought of her parents – who, Elise learned, had both been killed in a car accident simultaneously only a few months prior – overall, Betsy appeared to be a well adjusted, polite little girl.

And, Elise was relieved to see, she was still a little girl. Not an iPhone or copy of US Weekly in sight, she mused, sinking down into one of the chairs in the middle of the room, luxuriating in the way it enveloped her and made her want to curl up with one of the many books on the shelves surrounding her.

And she and Betsy had gotten along like a house on fire from the moment they met. Rose had handled the introductions, and Betsy had taken it from there. Betsy had immediately asked Elise about her (lacking northern) accent, her hair, her camera (which was out to show Rose, along with her favorite prints), and her favorite holiday. Elise had shown just the right amount – she hoped – of discipline and friendliness with the child. She had to make sure Betsy knew she was in charge, but not to be frightened of her.

No child should be frightened of their elder. Respectful, yes, but not fearful.

Elise didn’t want that for any child.

And, Elise had learned a bit more about her employer from Betsy – but still not enough to satisfy her growing curiousity about the man who had hired her, but whom she knew nothing other than his taste in homes and lakefront views.

“My uncle is a logging baron,” Betsy has said matter of factly at lunchtime, biting into her peanut butter and jelly sandwich. “He’s rich.”

Elise had raised an eyebrow. “Betsy, it’s generally considered impolite to refer to the amount of money a person does or doesn’t have. Also, never ask anyone how old they are, or how much they weigh.”

“Oh.”

“What’s a logging baron?” Elise had asked instead.

Betsy shrugged. “I’m not sure, but that’s what my friend Wendy’s dad called him. I thought barons only lived in England.”

“I think he meant he’s a very powerful man in charge of a logging operation,” Elise said. “What’s your uncle like?”

Betsy thought for a moment. “He’s nice. I don’t know him that well, since we lived in California and he lived here. My mom was his little sister, but he doesn’t have anyone else, like me. No other brothers and sisters, or uncles or anything. Just me. And he likes to read a lot. And he swims really well. He’s pretty quiet, but he’s nice. And his favorite bubble gum is Bubble Yum, the original flavor. I like the watermelon better. What’s your favorite?”

After answering Betsy (Strawberry Splash Bubbalicious), they had turned to other topics and that’s all Elise had found out about the elusive Mr. Hale.

Judging from his library, though, Mr. Hale was either very caught up in appearing intelligent, or he was a well read, well rounded man. She admired the framed art prints on the wall, the sinuous sculptures on various tables, and noted that many of the books were well worn, the spines cracked, indicating use.

For a man living virtually alone in the upper peninsula of Michigan, she was ashamed to admit she’d expected fishing catalogs, nudie posters and a gun rack.

But looks can be deceiving, she thought, her eyes drooping shut of their own accord. She managed to shake herself awake and out of the comfortable chair and tugging the door shut on the library, went upstairs to her own room.

She had hoped to take a walk along the beach before retiring for the evening, but found that first day jitters and meeting Betsy were more exhausting than she thought. She and her Nikon would have to do it another day, she mused, instead contenting herself with a long look out the bedroom windows before she turned and got ready for bed.

She had planned to begin Betsy’s lessons the following morning, then to run to the supermarket in Calumet to get acquainted with what was available while Rose watched Betsy in the afternoon for a few hours. They were already making plans to try and fly a kite if the wind continued to cooperate.

Elise was still trying to decide between a beef stew or pork chops for dinner when she fell fast asleep.

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