The Puzzler's Mansion (8 page)

“Wow,” Mal said. “You know Winston's going to have a maze in his backyard when he's older.”

“No,” said Winston. “My entire house is going to be a maze.”

*   *   *

It was a big house, but it didn't have an infinite number of bedrooms, and there were a lot of guests. Richard suggested that there were plenty of sofas scattered around, and the kids could sleep on these. Amanda's face darkened at this suggestion. She whispered something in her mother's ear, and before you knew it, she had a bedroom of her own. Winston thought that was pretty unfair, but then it turned out that Betty McGinley had offered to sleep in the guesthouse with her two kids (who were still running around—would they never get tired?). Winston could sense a feeling of relief that Ryan and Ian wouldn't be screaming in the main house all night—so all in all, everything worked out.

Zook was pointed to the entertainment room in the basement, where Winston had first encountered him. As for Winston and Jake and Mal, they were all put together in the large reading room near the entrance hall, each on his own cushy sofa. Norma provided them with pillows, sheets, and blankets. Kimberly, somewhat shyly, requested an extra-warm blanket she had used last time, but they weren't able to find it. It wasn't in the downstairs closet where it was supposed to be, which irritated Norma, who obviously felt it was her job to get every detail of this weekend perfect. Kimberly rushed to assure her that she would be just as happy with any blanket.

The boys took their bedding to the reading room and set to work building their little nests. The day had been a long one. Had Winston really been sitting in a boring school classroom earlier today?

Winston's sofa was comfortable but unfamiliar, and he woke up a few times during the night. And then, as daylight started coming through the windows, Norma's keys rattled in the front door, jarring him awake yet again. She marched down the hall to the kitchen and could soon be heard banging around pots and pans. She must not
have been very pleased with her boss's decision to let the other help go for the weekend.

Despite the noise, Winston dozed off again. By the time he woke up for good, his pillow had fallen to the floor and the bedsheet had rumpled up beneath him. He sat up, groggy-eyed. Mal was out cold, but Jake was up and gone.

Winston had slept in a pair of sweatpants, and to this he added a T-shirt. Sounds were coming from the kitchen and dining room, so he padded over to see what was happening.

Most of the bustle was coming from the kitchen, but Winston passed through the dining room to get there. The table was once again laid out with a fantastic array of foods, and at that moment, Norma came in from the kitchen to add more to it—a plate of waffles.

“Good morning,” she said, somehow making even this sound abrupt. “Breakfast will be ready in a few minutes. Please wait elsewhere while I finish setting up.”

“Sure,” Winston said, easing himself past her and into the kitchen. Most of the grown-ups were drinking coffee. Penrose and Jake were both fully dressed and chatting. Winston joined them, rubbing the last of the grogginess out of his eyes.

“Did you see the table?” Jake asked.

“The dining room table?” Winston said. “Sure.” He thought that was a strange question, considering Jake had just watched Winston walk in from the dining room.

Jake leaned in. “So what do you think?”

“It's a lot of food,” Winston said.

Penrose, smiling, said to Jake, “I think he didn't notice. You just woke up, didn't you, Winston?”

“Yeah,” Winston said, gesturing to his sweatpants and T-shirt. “What didn't I notice?”

“Maybe nothing,” Penrose said. “We'll see. I think breakfast is about to be served.” He gestured with his chin back to the dining room entrance, where Richard Overton stood, hands on hips, studying the table. He muttered something to Norma, who made some minute adjustments to the food. Satisfied, Richard turned around and announced into the kitchen, “Good morning, friends! Breakfast is ready.”

The guests paraded in, some dressed for the day and others still in sleepwear and bathrobes. Mal came in from the reading room, his hair disheveled and his eyes glued shut with sleep.

“Guh,” he said, and turned around and left again, sparking some laughter among the more awake.

“Please pass the yogurt?” asked Kimberly Schmidt, pointing to the opposite end of the table. There was a large bowl with an assortment of yogurts embedded in a rockpile of crushed ice.

“Of course,” said Candice Deburgh. She picked up the bowl and started to pass it down.

Norma was there in an instant. “Leave the bowl where it is, please.”

Candice froze, unexpectedly chastised. She placed the bowl down gently, looking confused.

Norma said to Kimberly, “What flavor do you want?”

“Um . . . strawberry?”

Norma plucked a strawberry yogurt out of the bowl and walked it over to the musician. “Please leave the foods on the table where I've placed them,” she announced to the group.

Jake nudged Winston. “You see?”

“See? See what?”

Jake whispered, “This is a puzzle!”

Winston was bewildered. “What is?”

Jake gestured at the whole table, and for the first time, Winston saw it. The foods had been laid out in distinct groups of three. At the far end was a platter of assorted cheeses, a plate of what looked like sausage links, and a silver mesh bowl holding packets of oatmeal. Partway down the table was the next set: a pitcher of cold milk, a plate of bagels, and the rapidly disappearing stack of waffles. The third set consisted of three bowls, one containing hard-boiled eggs, another with fresh oranges, and a third with something creamy and yellow. Vanilla pudding? That was a strange breakfast choice, although since it was here, Winston decided to help himself to some of it.

There were two more groupings of food on the table. A plate of bacon sat next to a plate of toast and a bowlful of red and green apples. And finally there was the yogurt, next to a number of grapefruit, which in turn were next to a bowlful of raisins.

Jake was right. This was a strange array of foods, and the fact that they were grouped into sets of three made it stranger still. And Norma seemed absolutely determined that nobody should move anything. This had to be the first puzzle.

Across from Winston, Derek Bibb was looking this way and that along the table, a spoonful of oatmeal paused en route to his mouth. Derek and Winston caught each other's eye, and Derek suppressed a smile. So Derek knew, too, that there was something odd going on.

Most people, however, didn't. Food was grabbed up, and occasionally Norma or Richard Overton would step in to adjust a plate, though only Norma would bark at someone who was trying to pass food down the table. Gerard Deburgh, a pair of waffles on his own plate, asked where the syrup was. Norma said it was in the kitchen, on the counter.

Gerard harrumphed as he stood up. “Why not keep it on the table? Next to the waffles, maybe?”

“Because we kept it in the kitchen,” said Richard. “Please leave it there.”

Shaking his head at his host's quirkiness, Gerard left the room with his plate.

Other houseguests wandered in. Chase Worthington looked as professionally handsome as ever, and had even shaved off his stubble. His son looked like he had just fallen out of bed. Zook was wearing the same clothes as yesterday, and his long hair kept wanting to make a curtain in front of his face.

“Good morning, everybody!” Chase said, while Zook took an empty plate and began examining his choices for breakfast.

At the head of the table was Larry Rossdale. As Winston watched, Larry slowly stood up. He looked across the table like the food had started talking to him. He glanced up at Richard, who was watching this with a sly smile.

“So when do the games start?” Larry asked with suspicion.

“What makes you think they haven't started already?” Richard answered.

That stopped everybody. “What?” asked Kimberly. “We're playing a game?”

“The food is a puzzle,” Larry said. “I
thought
something was going on here. So what's the deal?”

“That's what you have to figure out,” said Richard.

“I notice the food has been placed into particular sets,” said Derek. “Sets of three.”

“Aha,” said Richard, beaming. “I've been waiting for someone to make that observation. I'll tell you this much: each set of food has something in common. Once you figure that out, it's a simple
jump to this puzzle's answer.” And with that, Richard pulled out a chair and sat, smiling at his guests like a kid amused by a cage full of hamsters.

Everybody stopped eating, and a dozen pairs of eyes flitted around the table, as the guests tried to make sense of what they'd just been told.

“Oatmeal and cheese have something in common?” asked Kimberly.

Richard only smiled more broadly and shrugged.

“They're both vegetarian dishes,” Chase observed.

“And they're sitting next to a plate of sausages,” said Kimberly.

“Oh. Right.”

Winston had all but forgotten the food on his own plate. Raisins and grapefruit were both fruit. Right? Were raisins considered a fruit? Even if they were, what did that have to do with yogurt?

“Should we be working on this together?” asked Penrose. “Or should we be working individually?”

Richard said, “You may feel free to share ideas if you'd like. Only one person will win the prize, however.”

“Prize? There's a prize?” asked Chase.

“A very nice prize,” Richard said.

Ryan and Ian—Winston had started to think of them together as the brats—ran into the room with their usual high degree of chaos, followed by their mother. “I'll just feed them in the kitchen, if that's okay,” said Betty McGinley. That was perfectly fine with everybody, although when she tried to take the plate of waffles off the table to give to her kids, Norma was there in a flash to stop her.

Looking around at the food, Kimberly said, “I keep wanting to say these are all things people eat for breakfast.”

“I think the answer is going to be more specific than that,” said
Derek. He had taken out a little notepad and was writing things down.

Winston thought that was a very good idea. He ran to the reading room and rooted through his knapsack until he found a notebook and a pen. As he came back into the dining room, Candice Deburgh said, “Are you sure these groups have been properly arranged?”

“Quite sure,” Richard said.

“So you're saying that bacon and apples have something in common?” She shook her head, baffled at the idea of it.

Her daughter, Amanda, remained aloof from the whole situation, calmly sitting at a corner of the table eating a yogurt.

Winston sat back down next to Jake and Mr. Penrose and got busy writing.

“What do you think?” Jake said in a low voice.

“I think staring at the food isn't going to get us anywhere,” Winston said, and Penrose nodded in agreement.

Winston wrote down words, and soon the three of them were looking at the page intently.

“Well, BACON and TOAST and APPLE all have five letters,” said Jake.

“I suppose,” said Winston. “Except it's not just one apple. Right? That's why I wrote APPLES, as a plural.”

“Besides that,” said Penrose, “that idea doesn't seem to work for any other group.”