Chapter 4
We drove to Vermont the next morning.
Aveline wanted to come.
I said no.
She argued.
Good.
Exhaustion gone enough to fight.
I changed my answer.
She came.
Isolde too.
Not because she deserved access.
Because the old hotel belonged to her family, and I wanted to see what she recognized before anyone explained it.
The Lennox North Hotel looked dead.
White shutters.
Stone facade.
One caretaker.
Then three women appeared in the rear kitchen.
Not prisoners.
Not exactly staff either.
Women who had worked Lennox events.
One older.
Two younger.
All still there.
Celeste was not among them.
Aveline’s face fell.
The caretaker, Marianne, recognized the name.
“She left six months ago.”
Aveline’s shoulders collapsed.
“Where?”
Marianne looked toward Isolde.
“I thought you knew.”
Isolde shook her head.
Good.
New information.
Celeste had been sent here after refusing another sleepless assignment.
Diana Lennox was dead by then.
Isolde authorized the transfer.
Why?
“To give her time away from guests.”
That was Isolde’s version.
Marianne’s was different.
“She came here because she knew too much.”
Silence.
Isolde looked at her.
“That isn’t fair.”
Marianne laughed.
“Neither were the bells.”
There.
Another witness.
Celeste spent two months at the North Hotel.
Not forced to work constantly.
But not free from expectation.
She was told leaving before “decompression” ended would mean no reference, no wages still owed, and no help finding new employment.
Control through survival.
Then one night Celeste disappeared.
This time truly.
She took one coat.
One bag.
And one black notebook.
Her own.
Before leaving, she told Marianne:
“I’m going somewhere Lennox people don’t own the doors.”
Aveline started crying.
Alive.
At least six months ago.
Then Marianne handed her a sealed envelope.
Celeste had left it for her sister.
Inside:
Aveline,
If you came looking for me, I’m sorry.
Do not trust Isolde just because she is kinder than her mother.
Kinder is not the same as safe.
My fiancée read the line over Aveline’s shoulder.
Her face broke.
That hurt her.
May you like
Good.
Sometimes truth should.
