My Name is Rapunzel(48)

The corners of her mouth turned up. She had won and she knew it. Anastasia offered one swift nod and then returned to her cooking. “Will you be joining us for dinner each evening or would you like it brought to you?”

On second thought. “Actually, I have three conditions for my offer.”

Anastasia whipped around. Skepticism lined her face. She placed her hand on her hips and cocked her head. “What conditions?”

“Number one, you never speak of me. Not to your family not to your friends or people in town. I don't exist. Do you understand?”

Anastasia nodded. “Easy one.”

“Number two, you leave Gretta alone. She can cook our meals when she likes, or have a meal brought to her room if she prefers. She will not dine with your family, but you will provide for her. She will never be banished from this house. Is that understood?” Part of me wanted to let Anastasia have her way with Gretta, but I just couldn't be sure what Gretta would do. I couldn't take that chance.

Anastasia sighed. “At least we won't be stuck with her for long.”

That's what you think. “Number three, you speak well of me to my grandchild and give me open access to spend time and play with the baby.”

“Open access? No. Reasonable prearranged access, sure.” She crossed her arms in finality and waited for my response.

Probably the best I could get. At least I would have Luke to defend me if needed. Not that I would bother him…not if he felt the way Anastasia said he did.

“Okay. It's yours.” I gestured to the kitchen and the rooms beyond…and left. I began a lonely trek up to the tower. Was I doing the right thing?

Gretta appeared in the doorway at the first landing. She'd heard everything, judging by the glare on her face. She shook her head. “You have no idea what you have done. You will be sorry.”

***

“Your mother! She's a witch!” I could just imagine Anastasia's eyes, wild with fear. “And that old woman? She is, too.” Footsteps sounded like the pacing of a lion in a den. “We can't live here with them. They can't live here. Better yet…they won't leave.” Anastasia sounded frantic. If only I could see her through the air vent.

What could have happened? I’d turned over my house to her nearly a month ago. Nothing had gone wrong—that I knew of. What did she know and how did she find out?

I looked at Gretta, my sudden ally. What would she do? I shook my head. “Don't you do anything to them, Gretta. If this is to be the beginning of our demise, so be it.”

Gretta stared evenly. She didn't flinch.

“I mean it…” Wait. Luke was talking. I pressed my ear closer to the vent so I could hear his words.

“My mother is not a witch. She was cursed long ago—she will never age, and she will never die. But that is the extent of her abilities.” Luke. Poor, naïve Luke. He should have denied it all. I could just picture him grasping her hands, desperately pleading for her to accept his words. But he had to know she wouldn't. Anastasia was not one to be convinced. Obviously.

“Oh yeah? Then who cursed her?”

Gretta snorted. “Here it comes.”

“Luke?” Anastasia sounded stern. “I asked you a question. Who cursed your mother?”

“Gretta.”

“Just as I thought.” Anastasia lowered her voice. “Something must be done. Something will be done.”

Gretta locked eyes with mine. “She's right. Something will be done.”





CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO




Then, Mr. Jenkins, in 1913, exactly 100 years after I moved to Paradise Valley, I smelled smoke.

I stood from my crouch in the garden and turned back toward the castle. Fire! Flames licked the windowsills from the kitchen and an orange glow filled the windows at the front of the castle.

Who had been in the kitchen? Had they gotten out okay? I raised my hand above my eyebrows and scanned the horizon. No one. Where were they? Luke!

I drew my skirts around me and ran as fast as my legs would carry me.

Gretta. Had she started it? She'd wanted to get rid of them for so long. She never wanted them there. What if she had stooped so low? My legs felt like lead as I ran across the ravine toward the castle.

I looked up at the tower and saw a face peek from the window. Please let it be Luke. Luke, please look at me. The face turned.

Gretta.

I threw open the side door and raced down the short hall to the kitchen. Flames engulfed the room and the foyer was burning, too. Nothing was untouched. But was anyone hurt? Maybe the kids had gone to market. They seldom shared their comings and goings with me. Maybe they hadn’t even been home.

There was nothing I could do to put the fire out, but eventually, it had to die down. After all, stone didn’t burn.