Someone to Watch Over You... 

A traditional mini-mystery, suitable for all ages

    Revenge is a strange creature. Its long wispy tendrils reach into the deepest parts of one’s psyche and take root— stubborn, persistent—once established it is reluctant to release its hold. It feeds on memory, reliving the moments in time where the damage was inflicted, where the first betrayal unfurled and began to dismantle a life of comfort, of promise. Revenge is sweet, they say— a dish best served cold. The open diary recorded these thoughts as the pen scratched deep into its pages.
I say revenge is a friend, a dear companion I can clasp to my bosom. Revenge and I have been close for so long now that I feel a kind of sorrow as I go forward and move to enact mine at last. In some ways, I will be lost without it. But all plans have an end goal and I have reached mine. So we go on— revenge and I, travel hand-in-hand and move into place. I shall so enjoy tearing down the cosy, comfortable life that honey-haired little wretch has made for herself. This is going to be splendid.


    “School’s out for summer,” Trixie sang.
    “School’s out forever,” Honey continued, twirling around.
    “No more pencils, no more books,” they chorused and collapsed on the park bench giggling as if they were still thirteen years-old instead of mature twenty-two year-old college graduates. "No more teachers—"
    “Honey certainly can’t sing the next bit,” Dan Mangan interjected, taking a seat at the nearby picnic table, where a Bob-White feast had been set up. “I bet she never got a dirty look from a teacher in her life.”
    “Depends on your definition of teacher,” Honey said with a grin, recalling a time when she’d been on the receiving end of some very disapproving looks.
    “I, personally, would like to point out the relative inappropriate juxtaposition of the singing of this ancient ditty, with this time and place, given the fact that our erstwhile feminine co-president and vice-president actually finished college five days ago, rendering their timing both—”
    “Oh, go stuff your face with a sandwich,” Trixie said, rolling her eyes.
    “Don’t mind if I do.” Mart happily examined the platter before him. “What delicacies have we here, Honey?”
    “Chicken salad, tuna fish, cheese with those pickles you love, and if you open that other container, there’s falafael with hummus and pita bread.”
    “Honey, Honey, I do love you.” Dan pulled the container towards him. “If you get tired of Brian, can you be my girlfriend?”  
     “Idiot!” Honey returned affectionately.
    “Yeah, Dan,” Trixie added. “Don’t you know Brian is the most perfect, wonderful, smartest, fabulous, handsome—”
    Honey poked her best friend sharply in the arm. “I’ll tell him you said so.”
    Trixie laughed and stood, pulling Honey to her feet. “Come on, those two will eat everything in sight if we don’t get in there.”
    The two young women took their seats at the picnic table.

    “Thanks for having this here so I could join you in my lunch break,” Dan said. He was fulfilling his teenage dream and had just started working with the Sleepyside Police department.
    “Well, Jim and Brian won’t be home until the end of the week and Di doesn’t get back from Paris until a couple of days after that,” Honey said, even though she knew they knew that. “Trix and I wanted to hang out with you guys to celebrate being back in Sleepyside.”
    “And Honey promised her mother she’d pick up the final program for the charity event she’s hosting.” Trixie added. “An event she also committed our time to. Honey did, I mean.  Though why anyone in their right mind would volunteer to have me wait on people is beyond me. I hope they don’t mind when I spill stuff all over their fancy outfits.”
    Honey snorted inelegantly. “Excuse me! You worked plenty of shifts at the Café the past couple of years without incident.”
    “Formal clothes make me nervous,” Trixie protested.
    “Nothing makes you nervous,” Honey corrected.
    “More’s the pity,” Mart sighed and took another sandwich.
    Trixie made a face at him and Honey smiled at her friends. It was so good to be home.  She really was a very lucky girl.

    There she was—parading around in public, the tiny halter top and skirt that revealed her long slender legs— completely inappropriate. And there was no need to loiter about like that. Her family owned one of the largest estates in Westchester County. Why on earth eat lunch on the town common? It was typical of the girl she had become—forward, entitled—it wasn’t right. And as for those friends, absent and present. There was the boisterous Beldens, the nouveau riche Lynch girl, the adopted stray, Jim Frayne, and the Mangan boy, a supposedly reformed thug—it was outrageous. And everything suggested she intended to make a match with the oldest Belden. They had certainly cavorted shamelessly together when seen a few weeks earlier. Had her parents abandoned standards altogether?

    Moving away from the window, the figure retreated with a half-smile, knowing that soon the object of hatred would be at hand. And what made it even sweeter was the fact that the wretched girl would by delivered into those waiting hands by the cool, educated tones of her elegant mother. Madeleine Wheeler, wife of Matthew, daughter of the wealthy East-coast Harts, a woman who, once upon a time, seemed barely aware of her own child. Now, she spoke with a satisfied pride in, and affection for, her offspring. She would know that she was instrumental in that child’s unpleasant fate. There was symmetry in that that was eminently satisfying.


    The Sleepsyide Arts and Theatre Centre were very familiar to the Bob-Whites of the Glen. They had staged a benefit there years earlier, in the midst of a mystery, of course. The old, former bank building had been beautifully refitted and Madeleine Wheeler had decided it was the perfect venue for her charity cocktail party and jazz evening. Honey led the way inside, with Trixie and Mart bickering happily as they followed their friend.
There was no one in the office and while Honey went in search of the attendant, Trixie and Mart walked around the foyer, studying the displays and photographs that now graced the walls.

    “Hey, look, it’s us,” Trixie said with a grin, nodding towards several photos from their benefit show.
    Mart nodded. “I meant to tell you. Di and I came here when she was home for the weekend a while ago. They have a new person working here and they wanted to showcase how the place had been used since the refit.”
    “Is that the big, strange looking woman I’ve seen around the last couple of times I was home?” Trixie hissed.
    “I don’t know if they put this together, but if you’re talking about the part-time attendant, I think it’s a man,” Mart said, though neither he nor Di was entirely sure.
    “I haven’t had a good enough look yet,” Trixie said, her expression altering.
    Mart saw it and shook his head. “Please, do not start. We don’t need you solving the mystery of someone’s gender. It brings to mind too many very unsavoury notions.”

    “Are you waiting for someone?” The low-pitched voice made both Beldens spin around, their freckled faces flushing as they looked up and met the cool, narrowed gaze of the subject of their conversation.
    “Our friend, Honey Wheeler, came to collect the programs for the fundraiser," Mart added hurriedly, pointing in the direction Honey had gone.
    “Well, I was looking for her, actually.”
    The low voice gave no real clue to the speaker’s gender.
    “She’ll be right back,” Trixie said.
    “I have something I need to do. Can you let your friend know that there’s been a short delay in running off the finalized draft of the program. She needs to come back in about an hour’s time. It should be ready by then.”
    “Sure, we’ll tell her,” Trixie said.
    The attendant made no further comment, merely nodded, turned, and walked briskly away.

    “I don’t know about you, but I’m no wiser,” Mart whispered.  “Decidedly epicene.”
    “Me either, though I don’t know about that seen thing,” Trixie confessed. “And those pants and top are not exactly revealing. I’d hate to be a witness if he or she committed a crime. Not being able to say male or female would make identification pretty hard. And it just ruins my reputation for being reliably observant.” She rubbed her nose distractedly. “But I hope he, she,they, whoever didn’t overhear our conversation.”
    “I didn’t hear them coming,” Mart said. “They sure must move quietly.”
    Trixie nodded. “Yeah, and they’re not exactly a tiny, dainty little thing either. You’d think someone as…well-built would make more of a noise and…” she trailed off.
    “What?” Mart asked.
    “Nothing. I just feel like I said something important.”
    “Huh?” Mart was obviously confused and Trixie shrugged.

    A minute later Honey rejoined her friends. “I’ve looked all over, but I can’t find them,” she said.
    “He, she, they were just here,” Trixie said. “The program isn’t ready, so you have to come back in an hour or so.”
    “That’s annoying,” Honey said. “I was hoping…what do you mean—he, she? Surely they have to be one or the other.”
    “Haven’t you seen the person in question?” Mart asked.
    Honey shook her head. “No. Mother’s spoken to them and she may have met them once, but I haven’t seen them, except at a distance.”
    “At a distance?” Trixie’s brow wrinkled.
    “Last time I was home, Di pointed out the new attendant when we were at Crimper’s.” Honey smiled. “I guess the fact that that was how she identified them should have made me curious.”
    “I guess it’s not that uncommon,” Mart said dubiously. “I mean there are feminine looking men and masculine looking women. We just haven’t figured out which. None of us have really had any contact until today.”
    “Well, I’m sure I’ll figure it out when I come back to collect the programs. I’ll consider it my duty as a future detective.”
    “So, are you going to go home and come back later, or…?” Mart raised his sandy brows.
    “It would be silly to go back to the Manor House just to come back to Sleepyside again in an hour,” Honey said.
    “Oh, do you want me to hang around with you?” Trixie asked. The three had been planning a ride.

    Honey thought for a moment then shook her golden head. “No, why don’t you and Mart head back; Regan’s champing at the bit for the horses to be ridden.” She caught the look of amusement on Trixie and Mart’s faces and smiled, realizing what she’d said.
    “Tell him I’ll ride Lady once I’ve sorted everything here. I can check out the new dress store while I’m waiting.”
    “If you’re sure?” Trixie still didn’t put clothes shopping at the top of her list, but she didn’t want to abandon her friend.
    “Yes.” Honey gave her a gentle shove. “If it doesn’t take too long I might even be able to join you. If it does, at least Regan’s head won’t explode.”
    Trixie laughed. “He has already made several pointed remarks about people who are now home and supposed to love horses.”
    Mart nodded. “Come on, Trix. You can drive back with me, that way Honey still has transport.”
    “I’ll call you when I’m on my way home,” Honey said. “Well, before I start for home, anyway.” Honey was very safety conscious and never used her cell when driving.
    “The way I feel, I could ride in the preserve for hours,” Trixie said. “So hopefully we’ll see you soon.”



    Watching them, laughing, joking, and relishing in their pampered, protected lives, was enough to make a person forget about plans, forget about the benefits of carefully constructed lists.  But good sense had prevailed. It wouldn’t do to risk exposure. The girl needed to be taken alone. It had been a good idea to plant recording devices in the foyer. It had been so easy to hear the exchange between the young people. Her friends were leaving and she would return alone.
And then, recompense could finally begin. All those years of dreaming and imagining, all that time spent with her beloved companion— revenge— would finally come to fruition. That girl would be remade, the clock would wind back, be reset. Time to make one final check to ensure that everything was perfectly placed.

    Honey hurried back to her car, clutching her cell to her ear. “No,” she laughed, “I don’t want you falling off Susie, so just hang up now and I’ll see you soon. I’m on my way.” She unlocked the sedan and carefully placed the finalised program on the passenger seat.  The gravelled rear car park, rarely used, was uneven and she stumbled a little in her sandals, wondering why the attendant had insisted that she park there. There was another vehicle parked next to hers though, so perhaps the story of work on the front of the centre was true. Dropping her cell in her purse, she rounded the car to the driver’s side. She opened the door and placed her purse inside. She felt the keys slip from her hand as a sharp pain in the side of her head caused her legs to give way. Strong arms caught and held her, she turned her head slightly, her brow furrowing at what she saw, but although she tried to focus her eyes refused to cooperate and she lost consciousness.

    I am so sick of people kidnapping me, Honey thought as her eyes fluttered and slowly opened.  And it doesn’t make sense either.  She was trying to put the pieces together. What could have driven some recently arrived stranger to behave in such a way? A person she knew nothing about. Someone she had only seen in the distance when she was home visiting; someone who, if she were honest, made her vaguely uncomfortable. Was it because the neat but shapeless clothes, oversized glasses and short hair made even gender impossible to determine? Trixie and Mart had been right about that.
But androgyny didn’t bother her, and the way people looked or chose to look was not something Honey believed influenced her feelings about them or her reaction to them. Yet this person unsettled her, made her wary, and this time it seemed as if her instincts were right. She turned around to examine her surroundings, and her heart skipped a beat when she saw she was not alone. Her captor obviously moved quietly, for the floor was stone but, just as in the car park, no sound had heralded the approach. A hand was raised and swiftly lowered; Honey rolled aside, the blow glancing the side of her head. She looked into those eyes and everything fell into place.

    How could she not have seen? Honey rubbed her temple, wincing at the additional pain, but knowing that her swift reaction had almost certainly saved her from a far more severe blow. Her head was already throbbing as a result of the attack in the car park. She wished Trixie were with her, or Brian. Being alone with this person made her shiver.
    “Not so clever now, are you?”
    The figure loomed over Honey for a second time in as many minutes, moving almost silently, in spite of her considerable size, unaware that it was this very fact that had betrayed her identity.
      “How are you, Miss Lefferts?” Honey did her best to make the query sound normal, casual.
    “You know me?” The woman said, eyes widening slightly.
    “Yes, of course. I would have realized sooner, but you’ve changed and I imagine you didn’t want me or my parents to recognize you.” Her former governess would never had worn those clothes while working for the Wheelers.
    “Why would you? I was just a lowly servant—nothing to you and your precious family. I had a good job and a comfortable place to live, but I was discarded, disposed of, cast aside.”

    As the older woman began to speak, Honey felt a surge of sympathy. She had rarely given the woman much thought over the years, save recalling her lack of warmth, her tendency to find fault, and the overwhelming relief her dismissal had brought.
    “I’m sorry if that was difficult for you,” she began. Surely, her parents wouldn’t have just thrown the woman out without a substantial severance?
    “You’re sorry.” Miss Lefferts literally spat the words at Honey. “It was all your fault. Because you were weak, timid, needy, and spoiled and you pouted and cried until you got your own way. Everything was fine until they brought your sickly little self home and ruined all of our lives.”
    The words stung and in spite of all the years that had passed since she had been a child struggling to find her place in the world, Honey felt the remnants of sadness and insecurity lapping at her like a winter wave rolling onto a beach. She blinked a couple of times, her huge hazel eyes clouding.
    “Why couldn’t you have just stayed away!” Miss Lefferts stormed. “Why didn’t you just die and leave us all in peace? Your mother needed me. We had a wonderful life until you destroyed everything.”

    Honey sat for a moment as the words washed over her. “I was a child,” she said, her sympathy evaporating and she raised her head and met the woman’s gaze. Her voice was strong. “I needed love and support from my family. I was entitled to that. If you’d shown even a small amount of concern or empathy, you might still have a job. What happened was just as much about you as it was me.”
    “You made them get rid of me and replace me with that ridiculous Trask woman.”
    “Hey,” Honey returned angrily. “If you know what’s good for you, leave Miss Trask out of this.”
    Miss Lefferts eyes narrowed. She seemed surprised by Honey’s responses. “I’ve watched you, you know. Kept my eye on you.”
    “That doesn’t sound like a very good use of your time,” Honey said.
    “You have not developed into a proper young lady. If I’d been allowed to raise you, you would have turned out very differently.”
    “On that point we agree.”
    “I had so many plans.” The large woman moved across to the wall opposite, where shelves ran from floor to ceiling. There were folders and books lined up on every one. “And you took all of that away from me.”
    “You know that tune is getting kind of old,” Honey snapped. She was not— repeat not— a scared little girl who believed no one truly wanted her. She was Honey Wheeler, future detective, a sister— a daughter. She had a loving boyfriend and the feistiest best friend anyone could ever wish for. She was nobody’s victim.

    Miss Lefferts reached down and grabbed a handful of Honey’s long hair. She lifted her without any discernible effort, though Honey offered no resistance, she was smart enough to know that would only increase her discomfort.
    “You will learn to behave yourself again,” she said, eyes glinting furiously. “I have a full regime of activities for you and until you’ve complete each and every one of them you have no hope of leaving this place.”
    Honey’s eyes swept the room. There was no doubt in her mind that she was in some sort of basement or even an underground shelter. “What is it with you people?” she asked. “Why can’t someone kidnap me and put me up in a five star hotel?”
    The outrage on the older woman’s face at this made the slap Honey received worth it.
    “Still as spoiled as ever!” she shrieked, grabbing Honey and pushing her into an upright chair that flanked a wide wooden desk.  
Trembling with anger, she reached for the first folder on the top shelf and slammed it down on the desk before her prisoner. “Open it,” she instructed.

    Honey didn’t move.
    Miss Lefferts flung the book open. Honey couldn’t help but see what was at the top of the first page: Day One—Week One—Month One—Year One.
The last made her shift in the chair and her gaze raked the rows of folders. There was no doubt the intention was for her stay to be a long one.
    “You can get to work on those problems and exercises as soon as you’ve changed,” Miss Lefferts said.
    “Changed?” Honey repeated, doing her best to sound cool and disinterested.
    “In there.” Her former governess nodded towards a wide opening in the far wall.
    Honey could see a narrow bed, a small bureau and several outfits displayed on hangers.
    “You can’t keep running around like that.” Miss Lefferts sniffed, her eyes running over Honey disapprovingly.
    Honey’s own eyes had made several attempts to locate the exit to her prison, but although she’d identified two doors, she had no idea whether either one might lead to freedom and was almost certain they would be locked.
    “It’s a disgraceful display,” the older woman added. “You look like a little tramp.”
    “I have far shorter skirts and skimpier tops,” Honey retorted. “If I’d known you were watching I’d have given you something to really complain about.”
    Miss Lefferts swelled. “Your parents never should have pulled you out of that school. Obviously mixing with riff-raff like those Beldens has ruined any chance of your being a lady.”
    Honey jumped up from the chair, her hazel eyes blazing with anger. “You just crossed a line, lady. Nobody criticises the Beldens in front of me!”

    In spite of the fact that she was easily twice Honey’s size, the woman took a step back.
    “I’ve seen the way you behave when you’re with him! Little tart.” Miss Lefferts’ already ruddy complexion blazed.
    “If you’re talking about Brian, he’s my boyfriend and we happen to be in love.” Honey was proud to hear that she sounded calm and matter of a fact. The truth was she and Brian were far less demonstrative in public than either Trixie and Jim or Diana and Mart, and Honey knew that their behaviour would not even raise the eyebrow of any sane person—key word—sane.
    “He’s nobody.” Miss Lefferts’ lip curled. “And as for that sister of his…that says something about allowing you to choose your own company.”
    This at least made Honey smile. “Yes, it does. Thank you, Miss Lefferts for the compliment.”
    “I was not complimenting you!” The older woman roared.
    Honey hoped someone was nearby. Surely, that booming voice could be heard.
    Her former governess caught the look on her face and took a deep breath. “You needn’t think anyone will hear us. This is an old bomb shelter, built during the Second World War by an overly cautious man. It’s hard to see, even if someone does come onto the grounds of the actual property. I doubt your so-called friends will rescue you, even if the do manage to work out what’s happened.”
    “I wouldn’t be so sure if I were you. Trixie Belden is kind of famous around here for her mystery solving skills. Besides, what makes you think I need to be rescued?”
    
    Silence greeted this remark and Miss Lefferts studied her former charge carefully. After a moment, she gave a snort. “You’ve been rescued all of your life,” she snapped. “Always had someone else to take care of everything.”
    “You think you know me, but you don’t.” Honey faced her tormentor without blinking. “You didn’t understand me when I was a child and you don’t know anything about me now.”
    “I was a perfect governess. You did what you were told. You behaved appropriately. You were always dressed exquisitely. If I’d stayed in that job, you would be a proper young lady.”
    “If you’d stayed in that job, I’d be a shadow of myself. I’d have little or no relationship with my parents. I’d be lonely and miserable and afraid!” Honey’s voice grew louder and louder. “I am not afraid of you!” She shouted.  
    “You should be, you little fool. You are going to stay in this place until I’m satisfied with you, which I imagine will be never. You will wear the clothes I’ve picked out for you and you will do each and every sum, activity, exercise and etiquette practice, that I have painstakingly prepared for you.” As she spoke, Miss Lefferts waved her hand in the direction of the wall of folders and books.
    “I don’t think so.” Honey tapped her long slender fingers on her folded arms, her expression defiant.
    “Why you little…” Miss Lefferts advanced on the young woman, her eyes blazing with anger.


    Trixie slid out of the saddle and patted Susie’s silky black neck. “I’m sorry Lady didn’t come with us,” she said. “I know you two like to ride together.”
    Mart climbed down from Starlight’s back and grinned at his sister. “Told you that, did she?”
    “Yes, as a matter of fact.” Trixie wrinkled her nose at her almost twin. “Besides, we were out for ages; Honey should have joined us before now.”
    “She probably had to do something for her mother when she got back or maybe Brian called.” Mart rolled his eyes.  “You know how long those two can talk. Honestly, they’re almost as bad as you and Honey.”
    Trixie laughed at this. “I think Brian was surprised himself by how much they talk. He thought that yackety yack gene had skipped him, but he’s definitely related to you and me.”
    The two led their horses into the stables and immediately got to work. Regan loved having them home to help with the horses, but woe betide anyone who didn’t rub down their ride or clean the tack.

    The tall redhead smiled at the sight of the Belden siblings as he entered the stables. “Now, that’s a sight for my tired old eyes,” he said.
    Trixie snorted and tossed her sandy curls. “That might have worked when we were in our early teens; now we’ve actually realized you’re not that much older than we are.”    
    The good-natured groom laughed. “I’m not sure whether that’s a compliment or not.”
    “Just an observation,” Trixie said with a grin.
    “And we are all intimately familiar with her penchant for ocular scrutiny, reconnaissance and interminable delineation.” Mart gave a heavy sigh.
    “And your verbal diarrhoea,” Trixie returned.
    “Nice comeback,” Mart said.
    “You know you two are such a comfort. You never change.” Regan’s green eyes twinkled.
    “Well, we’d hate to disappoint, wouldn’t we, Trix?”
    Trixie nodded. “Speaking of disappointment, where’s Honey? We were hoping she’d be back in time to join us.”
    “Honey hasn’t come home,” Regan said, looking from one Belden to the other. “I assumed she must have got held up and called you, rather than the house.”
    “Miss Trask was looking for her around half an hour ago. The car isn’t in the drive and she hasn’t rung the house.”

    A frown creased Trixie’s brow and she dropped the comb she was holding. “That doesn’t sound right. She rang ages ago.”
    Mart studied his sister. “I guess it could have taken longer than she thought. Maybe there was another delay.”
    Trixie shook her head. “Honey would have called again. You and I might not have thought that much about it, but Honey knew Mrs. Wheeler was waiting on the program and you and I were waiting for her to join us. She wouldn’t have forgotten to leave word even if she had a flat tire or something.”
    “Maybe she did,” Mart suggested. “You know the cells sometimes dropout in the preserve. Have you checked your phone?”
    His sister fumbled in her pocket and pulled out her cell. “No message, no missed call,” she said. “I don’t like this.”
    Mart frowned. “Look, I know Honey’s pretty reliable but isn’t the most likely explanation that she got caught up with the man, woman, whatever at the Arts Centre?”
    “You don’t know if Honey was meeting a man or a woman?” Regan looked puzzled.
    “Have you seen the new attendant?” Mart asked, raising his sandy brows. “It’s hard to tell, even our great detective isn’t sure, are you, Trix?”
    Trixie shook her head.  “No. It could be either. All I know is for someone that…large…big…significantly sized, they sure move quietly and…” she trailed off. “It couldn’t be,” she said slowly.
    “What couldn’t be?” Mart demanded.
    “I think I was right when I said earlier that I’d said something important.”
    “Do you know what she’s talking about?” Regan asked.
    Mart shook his head. Usually he could follow his sister’s line of thought, but he was at a loss.

    “Did you ever meet Honey’s governess before Miss Trask?” Trixie fixed her gaze on the tall redheaded groom.
    Regan’s brow furrowed. “I think she might have collected Honey from riding a couple of times,” he said. “Fussy kind of a woman. I only remember her because she was pushy with Honey and she was such a sweet kid. I could see how it made her feel. I don’t have much time for bullies.”
    “Your brain cannot be going where I think it is.” Mart stared at his sister. “Why the hell would Honey’s governess from a million years ago suddenly turn up now?”
    Trixie shrugged. “Honey is better with the why stuff. I’m the follow-my-instincts half of our partnership and my instincts are telling me that something is wrong and that was the last place Honey was going. And I’ll always remember the way Honey described that woman. I want to check it out.”
    “And I know there’s no use in arguing with you.” Mart turned to Regan. “Can you ring Dan and ask him to meet us at the Arts Centre? That way we might look vaguely official.”
    Regan nodded. “I’ll do that, and then I’ll go and check with Mrs. Wheeler. She’s the one who’s been dealing with the fundraiser; maybe she’s noticed something familiar about your suspect.”
    Trixie gulped. “Thanks for not just dismissing me,” she said to both men.
    “I’m not brave enough for that,” Mart said with a half-smile.
    “We both know you too well,” Regan added. “You’re right far more often than you’re wrong. Call me as soon as you know anything.” He pulled his cell from his pocket and hurried towards the house as the two Beldens dashed back to the car.

    “Wouldn’t Honey have recognized her?” Mart asked as he put the car in gear and headed down the drive.
    “Honey hadn’t seen her before today, except from a distance,” Trixie said grimly. “You saw how quickly she took off when we said Honey would be back any minute. My guess is she wanted to keep contact between them to a minimum, in case Honey did recognize her.”
    “But Honey had already left the centre when she called. She told you so.”
    Shrugging her shoulders, Trixie frowned at the speedometer and nudged her brother’s arm. “So, maybe Honey didn’t realize who she was or maybe the woman wore an extra disguise or maybe I’m totally wrong about everything.  But if you     don’t drive faster we might never find out.”
    Mart knew when to tease his sister and when to keep quiet. He increased his speed slightly and they continued in silence.

    Honey fought her instinct to struggle against her much larger and stronger opponent. Miss Lefferts hand was wound through her hair again and every movement was painful—maybe she should consider a very short cut next time she visited the salon.  Her former governess dragged her across the room to the alcove that held the bed and a small chest of drawers.
    “You will change into that,” she said nodding at a high-necked frilly dress with lace ruffles down the front and on the sleeves. “And if you dilly dally, I’ll do it for you.”
    Honey nodded. “Fine. I’ll change.” Anything to get this woman out of her hair—literally.

    Miss Lefferts released her and Honey regarded her outfit choices with some distaste as memories of her childhood wound their way into her present. Her former governess had always adored frilly, lacy clothing, the frillier and the lacier the better, and she’d favoured such garments herself, in spite of their incongruity with her shape and size.  Maybe that was why her identity hadn’t been immediately apparent. She’d cut her hair short and the plain pants and baggy top she wore rendered her shapeless, undefined.
    Picking the least fussy of the outfits. Honey slipped it over her head without removing her halter-top and skirt.
    “That’s better. You never did appreciate the things I picked out for you. Or those looks you inherited from your mother. Not that you are any where near as beautiful as she is—too much of your father in you.”
    That remark actually cheered Honey considerably. People rarely compared her to her father.
     “Now, at least you look like a young lady—feminine.”
    Honey knew that even in jeans and a t-shirt, she sill looked feminine. She’d been told that often enough by any number of people. She saw the look in the older woman’s eyes and felt a faint flicker of sympathy for the longing, sadness and pain reflected in them. Part of her wanted to say: “You don’t need to dress like this to look nice. I can help you, if you like.”  Of course, the rest of her wanted to hit her former governess over the head and escape. This was no time for famously empathetic nature, as Brian sometimes called it.

    “There’s a bathroom through that door,” Miss Lefferts said with a curt nod of her head. “It might not be up to your usual standards but it’s clean and all the basics are in the cabinet.”
    Honey bit back the automatic impulse to say thank you. She owed this woman nothing.
    Miss Lefferts reached over and grabbed her arm, dragging her back into the main room.
    “You will begin working on the exercises I have planned,” she said, eyes narrowing. “Or I will make you very sorry. I realize now that I wasn’t firm enough with you when you were a child. I’m not going to make that mistake again. You have the folder, you just need that reference book from the top shelf.”
    As she spoke, the older woman pointed, indicating the materials she was referring to. Honey moved closer to the shelves that lined that one wall. Her hazel eyes widened, just a little as she took note of their makeshift nature—bolts secured the long planks to the wall, but there were small gaps and a slight bow in each of the shelves and an idea began to form in Honey’s mind.
    “Hurry up,” Miss Lefferts said. “What are you waiting for?”
    “I can’t reach. It’s too high.” Honey might be the tallest of the Bob-White females, but at a fraction she under five feet seven, she was nowhere near as tall as her captor who was close to six feet.
    Miss Lefferts snorted and moved closer. Honey remained where she was standing to the side of the shelving. This forced the older woman to approach them from the front. As she reached up, Honey grasped one of the shelves and pulled on it with all her might. The books and folders rocked and the bolt strained and moved. At the same time, she used her body to nudge the desk along the floor, effectively blocking Miss Lefferts exit.
    “What are you doing?”
    Startled, the heavy woman turned awkwardly and Honey pulled again. The bolt gave way and books and folders began to tumble. There was a shriek and a thud and Honey leapt aside, standing back to watch as book after book, folder after folder fell and her former governess all but disappeared beneath a sea of endless exercises and activities.

    Just as she was preparing to check the exits, Honey heard a noise overhead. She hurried up the short flight of stairs.
    “Down here!” She shouted. “I’m down here!”
    “Honey!”
    “Trix!” She’d know that voice anywhere.
    There were footsteps now.
    “Stand back from the door, Honey.”
    That was Dan. Honey’s smile widened.
    “I’m going to shoot out the lock. Yell when you’re clear.”
    Honey ran back down the steps. “Clear, Dan.”
    There was a bang and then slowly the door opened and Honey smiled as first Dan, then Trixie and Mart came tumbling down the stairs to her.

    “It is that awful Lettuce woman!” Trixie said, throwing her arms around her best friend.
     “Lefferts,” Honey corrected with a giggle.
    A series of muffled groans and discernible curses and complaints from the floor nearby assured her that her would be tormentor was still alive, if not kicking.
    Mart’s sandy head tilted from side to side. “Is that her? Under all that stuff?”
    Dan had pulled out his cell and headed back up the stairs to call for help.
    “What is that stuff?” Trixie asked, frowning as she glanced around the space, where the only light came from two wall sconces and a lamp.
    “Apparently, Miss Lefferts has not lost her love of deadly dull activities.” Honey’s well-shaped brows lifted and Trixie couldn’t help but grin. Her friend might have been through an ordeal but you wouldn’t know it.
    “That stuff on that wall was supposed to keep me busy for a very long time.”
    “So, how did this happen?” Mart asked moving closer as the woman on the floor began to feebly kick and push books and folders away.
    “Miss Lefferts might be many things, but a qualified carpenter is definitely not one of them,” Honey said with considerable satisfaction.
    “You dreadful girl.” Miss Lefferts had moved enough of the educational debris to speak clearly. “Look at what you’ve done.”
    “Me?” Honey tossed her hair back. “You put those things there.”
    “What are you wearing?” Trixie put in, taking in Honey’s garb for the first time.
    “Oh, I’d forgotten.” Honey pulled the long, frilly white dress over her head enjoying the woman on the floor’s gasp of horror as it lifted her skirt, further exposing her legs.
    “Guess she hadn’t lost her love of that either.” Trixie wrinkled her nose in distaste.
    “You should see the others,” Honey said.
    “An ambulance is on its way,” Dan announced as he re-entered the room.
    “And I plan on suing too.” Miss Lefferts seemed incapable of moving from the floor, but her mouth was definitely still working. “That girl is responsible for my being in this position.”
    “You bet I am,” Honey said with a smile. “It was a long time coming, but you got exactly what you deserved.”
    Trixie grinned. “Crushed by deadly dull activity books, what a way to go.”

    Honey was curled up on the sofa sipping the mocha latte Dan had brought with him. Trixie sat next to her while Mart and Dan sat on the matching sofa opposite the two young women.
    “She sounds like a total nutcase,” Trixie said, shaking her head and causing those sandy curls to do their tell-tale bounce.
    “She’s not going to win sanest of the year award, that’s for sure,” Dan agreed. “She kept going on about revenge, about how it had kept her going, walking the path of life with her…” He shrugged his shoulders. “It was kind of creepy.” He didn’t tell them the rest— that Miss Lefferts had then raised her head and smiled at them.  She’d sighed, but not unhappily and she’d spoken, for the first time since signing her statement.
    “At least I didn’t have to let it go,” she’d said, with a half-smile. “My dear and wonderful companion will still be with me. I can nurture it and keep it close, and one day, if I’m lucky, that girl and I will meet again and revenge can have its way.”

    “They will put her away, though?” Mart frowned at the idea of the woman being free to roam the streets.
    “They’d better!” Trixie declared. “There’s no way we’ll let her get her hands on Honey again!”
    “Oh, pooh!” Honey said with a grin. “I don’t care what they do or don’t do with her. By the time you found me she was exactly where she belonged and I managed that all by my very own self.”
    “So, you did,” Dan grinned back.
    “And we salute you,” Mart added, raising his coffee cup. “Don’t we, Trix?”
    Trixie nodded. “Absolutely."
    "But how did you find me?" Honey asked.
    "Once Trix told me what she suspected I got on to the Centre and got her home address," Dan answered. "I was pushing boundaries, but I've learned not to ignore her hunches."
    "The house was empty, but Trix was sure you were nearby," Mart added.
    "So Dan spoke to the owner and he told him about the shelter," Trixie finished. "And that was that. She sure got what she deserved. Maybe that could be part of her punishment, I mean therapy. We could make a recommendation to the court or whoever.”
    “For what?” Mart regarded his sister affectionately.
    “Day after day filled with folders and lists,” Trixie began.
    “And activities and exercises,” Honey continued.
    “And lots of clothes with—“ “Ruffles and lace,” Trixie finished and they both laughed.
    Dan and Mart exchanged looks. “What a way to go,” the latter said.
    “The idea of that…woman in ruffles and lace.” Dan grimaced.
    “And a never ending list of deadly dull activities to fill every waking moment,” Honey smiled. “That would be a perfectly perfect ending to this story.”
    And it was.

THE WHEELERS' LAKE

Authors Notes: Many thanks and hugs to my wonderful editor, Julie aka Jstar8—she not only dealt with my comma weirdness and typos, but she also gave me the confidence to post this story challenge (where I missed the deadline by a mile)