Dr. Bookman’s Enchanted Arboretum

Inside, the clock tower wasn’t nearly as abandoned as Jeremy had assumed. It seemed rather well looked after – save for the dusty door they had broken through.

The room was square and empty, bordered by a wooden staircase wrapping its way to the top. It was too dark for either of them to make out what hung above. The air was much different than the forest outside. It was not necessarily stale, but certainly old, like the patina of a well-traveled briefcase.

Jeremy flipped on his phone’s flashlight. Grace smirked at him.

“What?” He said, defensively.

“Invested, are we?”

“No, obviously I’m just trying to be all chivalrous and protect you at all costs.”

“Uh-huh,” she moved over to the stairs. “Well, either way, we don’t have much time. Let’s go up”

They began climbing toward the top of the tower. The walls were solid stone, with no windows, and the mechanical ticking sounds of gears shifting into place filled the chamber. As they drew nearer to the machinery, they saw a faint glow through the floorboards. They stepped past the cogs onto the platform, where their curiosity escalated.

Before them stood three doors.

“That’s strange,” said Jeremy. “I definitely didn’t see doorways outside the building.”

“No kidding.”

Stranger still, a multitude of colors streamed from underneath the doorways. Hammered above each frame was a wooden plaque.

“FLUTTERBUG ISLAND” Grace read. Amber red light streamed forth, flickering as if responding to its name.

Blue effervescence drifted across the floor from the door in front of Jeremy. His eyes had just landed on the plaque when he nearly jumped out of his skin.

BEEEEP!

Another gong. This one, however, was much more digital.

“GEEZ!” Jeremy said loudly, jumping up. “That scared the crap out of me.”

“Sorry,” Grace explained, “I set an alarm on my phone, so we wouldn’t be late.”

“Late?”

“Yes. Dinner with an incredibly famous client? Opportunity of a lifetime?

“I know, but we can’t go yet. We just found these… this… whatever this place is.”

“It’ll have to wait.”

The colors drained slowly from the vapor-like substances in the room as they talked. Like the final movements of a dying flame.

“Alright. But we’ve got to come back.”

They hurried down the staircase and out through the door, leaving in such a rush they forgot to reseal the entrance. The sunlight was now a dull bronze, quickly setting behind the rising landscape in the distance. Picking up their bags, they set off running back toward the house.

They sped back through the brush, past the clearing where the deer had graced them, and beyond the shore at the bottom of the hill. The rest of the group was nowhere in sight –for which Grace was grateful, not wishing to provide Ronny with any more of a reason to despise her.

Thirty minutes later, they arrived back in the courtyard. Flustered, they waved awkwardly to a staff member standing near the portico. Grace was growing anxious. This is not how I imagined this going down, she thought.

As they dressed, Jeremy tried to set her mind at ease. “Look he already likes you. He’s clearly sold on your brand, otherwise he wouldn’t have invited us all the way up here. Just be yourself.”

“I know but I have less than an hour to get ready and prepare my pitch.”

“Ok. Practice on me.”

Allin penned the finishing touches on the piece of paper in front of him as Madam Hedera drifted in.

After a few moments' pause, he asked “I assume our guests will be arriving shortly?”

“Yes, sir.” She eyed the piece of paper. “And if I may, what exactly are you working on?”

“All in good time, Seraphina.”

The caretaker did not look pleased.

Allin laughed, leaning back. “Can you blame an old man for desiring some mystery? I will soon have many days to fill on my own. I expect I will grow tired of the repetitive lifestyle. The expected.”

“Indeed.” The caretaker said, begrudgingly. She stood up and peeled back the curtain, spotting two silhouettes wading toward her in the dim light.

“Where will you go?”

A pause.

“Sorry?” Madam Hedera responded, only half-listening.

“Once you hang up your caretaker’s cloak. Where will you travel?”

“Oh,” she replied, still distant. “I suppose I’ve always wanted to visit Japan.”

“Ah. Lovely scenery, lovely scenery. I would have enjoyed one last visit to Kanazawa. Spectacular views.”

The pair stepped into the hallway and walked toward the dining room. They arrived to see a well-dressed party of 14 staring back at them.

“Pleasure to meet you, Dr. Bookman.” Grace rolled her eyes as Ronny stepped in front of her and Jeremy. “On behalf of EnviroZen, we look forward to these forthcoming deliberations.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” Dr. Bookman said warmly, “I assure you.” He ended in staccato as if counting in an orchestra. “And who do we have here?”

“Grace Harper,” Grace said, smiling brightly. “And this is my husband, Jeremy.”

“Of course. I expect great things!”

He was surprised to see how young they looked. But there was a tenacity in their eyes that far surpassed their age. He had the sense they had lived more life than their years should have allowed.

After making his way around the room, he turned swiftly, facing the group.

“It is wonderful to have you all here! While I look forward to learning more about every one of your proposals, I’m sure we are all eager to eat. Let’s turn these dishes into delicious memories!”

Everyone laughed and nodded in assent.

Grace and Jeremy were seated at the end of the table with Madam Hedera, opposite Dr. Bookman and — to Grace’s annoyance — Ronny Tortiani.

“Looks like we’ve got a front-row seat to Madam Tortellini herself,” Jeremy said under his breath, so only Grace could hear.

She laughed, grateful he was there. He always knew how to get them through an uncomfortable situation.

They exchanged a few short conversations with the other guests. Madam Hedera and Jeremy launched into a furious discussion on the inner workings of the building. Grace knew it was difficult for him to ignore the beautiful masonry around them. While green was her oasis, skyscrapers were his.

As they emptied their plates, their host spoke first.

“Now, please allow me just a few moments of your time. Then the floor is all yours.” The atmosphere grew more formal. Grace felt her professional persona take over almost automatically. “Though it is not yet common knowledge, I have decided to retire at the end of this year. Which is why,” he continued, “I am planning a grand celebration for my career and staff, to honor the work we have accomplished together. It is then that I plan to unveil the installations you all plan on creating.”

Whatever mode she had switched into was certainly not prepared for this. Installations. Plural? It seemed the Bookman Estate would conduct their gallery selection in a knockout-style competition. Not to mention that Bookman had surely amassed a substantial network through his fifty-five-year career. There were bound to be hundreds if not thousands of people at this event.

“As this will be my grand farewell, these pieces must speak volumes to the depth and breadth of the research, findings, and relationships we have made along the way. I can think of no better tribute to the work we have done than to have the next generation shine. My team and I – Madam Hedera here, of course, included – have toiled tirelessly to build a foundation for young thinkers such as yourselves. But that is enough about me. Let’s hear what you have prepared.”