The Secret of Dartwood Manor by N. A. Triptow

Author:N. A. Triptow [Triptow, N. A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Wishing Well Publishing
Published: 2021-01-18T05:00:00+00:00

“Come on in,” Mariah’s voice echoed as she entered the museum.

“Riah, check this out,” Baden looked up from the books he was searching through on the table and thought he saw light twinkle around the entrance as a man entered the room behind Mariah. For a moment, it looked as if that man was perusing the sights of the museum with a curious air, but as he met Mariah’s eyes his expression turned affectionate. Baden’s countenance deflated like a beach ball abandoned in the corner of an empty pool as he watched Mariah stare back with equal affection.

A third person came through the door behind them, literally straight through the closed door. The girl in burnt orange from the manor walked directly through Mariah and her new friend and sat in the chair across from Baden at the table. He tried to look at the blonde through his peripheral vision. The last thing he needed was for this guy to convince Mariah that he was crazy.

“Help her find it before it’s too late,” she said in warning, eyeing the two behind her and then disappearing.

“Baden, oh good, you’re just the person I wanted to see,” Mariah smiled.

Clearly, no one else had heard or even seen her disappear. The girl was telling him to help Mariah, but he already knew he needed to help her. The blonde was obviously a benevolent spirit, since she had helped him remember Mr. Dartwood’s cameras. What was this warning? Was it a reminder to keep moving toward their goal despite any possible distractions?

“Who’s this?” He stood.

Mariah stepped in between the two of them. “Baden, this is Nathan Williams.” She motioned to him. “He’s the assistant director at the manor.” Baden gulped, now certain he was the one Mariah had been receiving help from while he was stuck in the museum. “Nathan, this is Baden Correia.” She turned back to Nathan. “He’s the assist—” she started and then corrected herself, “I mean he’s the curator of this museum.”

Baden met her eyes with a comforting somber smile.

“Is that a Portuguese or Spanish name?” Nathan questioned, interrupting the moment.

“Portuguese,” Baden explained, trying to hide his irritation. “My family is from Brazil.”

“Fala Português?”

Astonishment flashed momentarily in Baden’s eyes, “Sim, eu cresci falando Português em casa.”

“Yeah, they used to speak it all the time when I came over,” Mariah clarified.

“Do you speak Portuguese too?” Nathan grinned excitedly, seeing that she understood.

“No.” She hated to disappoint him. “I can understand it for the most part, but I can’t speak it. How do you know it?”

“I spent some time in the Peace Corps.”

Nodding, she bit back a smile and met Baden’s eyes. “Of course, you did.”

“Of course,” Baden repeated visibly less enthused by the idea.

Laughing, Nathan asked, “Used to?”

“Used to what?” Baden questioned.

“She said you used to speak it at home.”

“Yeah, my parents died,” his answer was terse.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Nathan’s eyes widened. “May I ask what happened?”

Baden and Mariah eyed each other until Mariah answered, “They were murdered.”

Nathan’s jaw fell open and he folded his arms uncomfortably.

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