“Where are we?” Maggie looked around, expecting to see Craig or nurses or even hotel staff.
“Crenshaw.” He smiled at her in the same way that she’d smile at victims on the stand, pity obvious. “You’ll be okay, Margaret. Rest now. Rest and recover.”
Maggie nodded, and despite the fact she was alone in a castle with a costumed stranger, she fell asleep right there in her wooden wheelchair.
3Ellie
The Ligonier Valley Library, one of the various Carnegie libraries, was built in 1908. It was tucked in the same part of town as the post office, assorted restaurants, a coffee shop, antique and art spots, and The Diamond, a park with benches aplenty and a gazebo in the center. Honestly, if there were ever a Hallmark movie setting, Ligonier’s main street was it.
Today, the brief drive through the wooded area where she lived toward downtown had been alive with color, as if painters had been set loose on the thick trees that lined the drive to work. No matter how many years Ellie had spent here, the coming of winter always felt magical. Change. It was in the cold morning air, and in the landscape around her. Pennsylvania wasn’t far enough north that freezing weather came too early, but winter was edging near, and the air tasted of it.
“Earlier than usual today,” one of the regular patrons remarked as Ellie went inside. She was as much a fixture as the park benches.
Years ago, Ellie had decided to keep her life orderly. Order was uninteresting. Uninteresting people never vanished. They lived quiet lives, perhaps even boring lives, not making waves or attracting attention.
Even ifboringdoesn’t come easily.
Ellie, like her aunt, was anything but orderly. Impulsivity was her first reaction to most everything, but ordinary people don’t go missing. So Elleanor Zelena Brandeau wasordinary.From the clothes she wore to the car she drove, Ellie was average. Basic brown hair. Not too thin, not too heavy, not too fit. She drove a nondescript white sedan—because three-fourths of all cars purchased in the U.S. were white, gray, or black.
She chose an average small town to work in, and she opted to live in an area outside town with no nearby neighbors. Missing people reports always included talks with neighbors. Ellie had created the most uninteresting day-to-day life that she could.
Her only exceptions were forays into Greensburg or Pittsburgh for datesanda job that was exciting to her. Some people might think being a librarian was uninteresting, but those people were Not Her Sort of people. Anyone who disliked books was suspect.
Possible kidnappers. Criminals. Generally questionable people.
On this topic, Ellie had strong feelings.
Her town—Ligonier, Pennsylvania—was a beautiful little colonial town with a pristine main street, a historic fort called Fort Ligonier, and an hour’s drive away was Fallingwater, one of the most extraordinary of the Frank Lloyd Wright buildings. As far as places to live, it was both gorgeous andquiet. One might even call it uninteresting.
At least it had felt that way until today.
Today, walking through the stacks, Ellie found herself face-to-face with a black-clad, elegant woman who looked like she’d gotten lost on the way home from a noir film.Shewas a far cry from the usual patrons. Long flowing trousers hid most of her legs, and delicately heeled boots completed the unusual attire. She was white in the way of someone who had never seen the sun; porcelain or ivory or some such would be the tone if she needed to wear makeup. She didn’t, though. She had a perfect complexion.
Her face was partially hidden behind a high-collared shawl and low-tilted hat with a short stark-white veil. The combination of the angle and the veil was such that it seemed she was forcing all gazes to her lips—which were painted a shade of red that screamed notice-me-now.
As if she wasn’t already intriguing, she walked through the stacks with a floral teacup of all things.
“Excuse me,” Ellie said, stalking after her. “No open containers in the library.”
The teacup clattered softly as it was returned to a saucer the woman held in her other hand.
Who carried a saucer and cup with them in a library?
“But tea helps me think,” the woman said, as if that were a reasonable explanation for carrying tea so close to the dozens of books that would be damaged if she tripped or was bumped or…
“Tea is dangerous to the books,” Ellie pointed out. “Do you need help finding something?”
“Would you help me if I did?” the woman asked, cocking a hip against the shelf.
“That’s my job,” Ellie said.
“To help damsels in distress?” The woman removed her absurd hat and dropped it to the floor.
Ellie stared at her, taking in the elegant pantsuit and striking features. She looked much younger than her voice had sounded. In truth, she looked like a lost movie star from another era—or maybe a queen. What she didn’t look like was a damsel in distress. She had the shape of a woman who could wander into a yoga or cycling class. Fit but not bulky. Tall and lean, painted lips, and flawless skin. She was breathtaking.
“Will you be my hero?” she murmured to Ellie. “Slay dragons for me?”
“We don’t have an abundance of dragons here,” Ellie managed to say even as her heart surged at the idea of being this woman’s hero. She stepped farther into the aisle, trying to be quiet as she answered, “If you needresearchhelp, I’m a librarian here.”
