Billy & The Beast (Ever After, New York #3) - Eli Easton Page 0,11

looked like a geometric secret message. The pool was covered by a canvas shroud and had its own terrace, the tile cracking and weedy. The tennis courts were surrounded by ginormous rhododendrons. I’d even found a little grotto in the woods with a statue of Mary in a niche that was shaped like a seashell. So cool.

As overgrown as the garden was, a lot of the original plants had survived, and the bones were still detectable—the walls, paths, trellises, arches, and stakes. There was no way I had the resources or time to bring it all back completely, but I hoped to clear enough of the growth so you could see what it had once been, to unearth the green skeleton of the garden so its shape could be appreciated once again.

As for the huge brick manor house, I’d never been inside, but if there wasn’t a maze in that basement, or a dungeon, or at least a creepy wine cellar, I’d eat my bike helmet.

Best of all, it came complete with a dark and mysterious owner. I mean, he even wore a mask!

The funny thing about Aaron—I still sometimes thought of him as Mr. X in my head—was that he really wasn’t scary at all. He acted all gruff, like he didn’t want me there. But then he’d do nice things like make me lunch and tell me, in a demanding voice, to be there the next morning. He got a fancy new riding mower to replace the old one, giving the excuse that the estate’s tools needed upgrading. He even bought me frigging work shirts, light ones that kept me dry and protected from the sun. They were a really nice orange color too.

He said the other choice was green, but that he wanted to be able to easily spot me in the garden. His tone implied that I couldn’t be trusted. But maybe he just liked watching me?

Did the shirts mean I was now the official gardener of Malfleur? Like they were my official uniform? I liked that idea.

And yet, shirts or no shirts, I always had the feeling that he might, any day, say, Don’t come back tomorrow. Like he was always on the verge of sending me away, and I had to be so nice and so careful not to give him any reason to. Only I’d been working there for two weeks now, and he never did.

Honestly? I think the guy was lonely. Like, part of him didn’t want anyone there. And part of him was desperate to have some sign of life around that actually spoke.

Why was he alone all the time? Where were his friends and family?

Who was that masked man? I was getting more curious, and more determined to find out.

I asked my mom if she knew anything about the house at the top of Hillcrest. She didn’t. My best friends, Alonzo and Jamie, had no clue either when I texted them. But then, they were both busy with their own lives, having gone away to college while I stayed in Ever After. This year neither of them had even come home for the summer.

If this were a movie, I’d head to the local library and spend hours scanning microfiche of old newspapers in the basement or something. But that sounded like way too much work. So I came up with a much better idea. I went to see Mrs. Delphi.

“So you want to know about Malfleur?” Mrs. Delphi rocked on her porch, her expression almost smug.

I rocked next to her and sipped the iced tea she’d insisted on bringing out for me. It was mint tea—my favorite. I gulped it greedily. I was suddenly so thirsty.

“Yeah. Do you know who owns the property right now?”

“I might. You’re working there?” she asked, though it didn’t really sound like a question.

“Yup. I’m helping out with the garden. It’s fricking huge.”

“Ah.” Mrs. Delphi smiled. “I told you learning about gardening would come in handy one day.”

Now that she said it, I recalled it was Mrs. Delphi who’d encouraged me to mow lawns for money. She’d been one of my first customers, in fact. And she’d loaned me gardening books so I could learn about the plants I encountered.

“My goodness. Bet that place will keep you busy all summer,” she mused.

“At least,” I snorted. “Assuming they keep me on.”

I wasn’t sure why I’d added that. Except that I felt protective about Aaron’s privacy.

“Malfleur is an interesting place. Quite interesting,” said Mrs. Delphi. “It was