white, and Jeff’s playing black, and all you have to do is capture the other guy’s king.” He pointed quickly to the various other pieces, naming each of them. “Just watch for a while, and you’ll see how it works.”
“And make them tell you all the possible moves,” Hildie warned. “They like to hold a few things back, then spring them on you. Like castling. Make sure they tell you how to do it.”
“Aw, come on, Hildie,” Jeff Aldrich complained. “It’s more fun if we cheat.”
“Sure it is,” Hildie agreed. “And if what I know about Josh is right, cheating’s going to be about the only way you’ll beat him, once he catches on.”
Jeff grinned slyly up at her. “Wanta bet?”
Hildie’s brows rose. “Sure,” she agreed. “I’ve got a dollar that says Josh beats you first time out. But you have to promise to show him all the moves, and not get creative when you play. Deal?”
“Deal,” Jeff agreed.
“I’ll make sure he doesn’t cheat,” Brad Hinshaw said. Instantly, he shifted from playing against Jeff to demonstrating to Josh how all the moves worked and why he was making them. Though he talked so quickly that Brenda was immediately confused, Josh seemed to be following every word he said. After watching for only a few seconds, Brenda let herself be guided into the house.
Thirty minutes later, after she’d had a full tour of the house—save for the cupola on the fourth floor, which Hildie had explained was Dr. Engersol’s private apartment—Brenda sank down into the depths of the leather-covered sofa in Hildie Kramer’s office, grateful for a moment in which to collect her thoughts in such a comfortable setting. Hildie’s big desk was cluttered with papers and framed photos, and a well-used ceramic mug sat next to a plate on which a doughnut—clearly part of Hildie’s morning snack—remained. Brenda felt overwhelmed by everything she’d seen. Nothing about the place was anything like what she’d been expecting. From what she’d seen so far, the Academy didn’t resemble a school at all. Instead it appeared to be just what it looked like from the outside: a huge home where people lived.
She’d seen the immense dining room. Like most of the house, it appeared very much as it had been when old Eustace Barrington had died back in 1942, at the age of 103. The walls were still covered with red silk, and the original sideboards, filled with china, stood against them as they had for more than a century. An immense crystal chandelier hung in the center of the room, its pendants brightly polished. The only change, Hildie explained, was that the original dining table at which Eustace Barrington had often entertained fifty people at formal dinners, was gone, replaced by much smaller tables for four or six.
In each of the more than twenty rooms Brenda had been shown, mahogany paneling gleamed on the wainscoting, and ornate plaster moldings adorned the ceilings.
A music room at the back of the ground floor overlooked a broad terrace and the hills rising up behind the school. “According to Mr. Barrington’s will,” Hildie had explained as they’d entered, “the house was to be preserved in its original condition, right down to the furniture. He left a huge endowment, and directed that the place be kept as a museum. But he did realize that a time might come when even the endowment wouldn’t be enough to maintain the mansion, and he put in a clause to the effect that in the event the endowment wasn’t sufficient for upkeep, the university could put the house to use, provided that—and I quote—‘it be maintained as a residence in as close as is practically possible to its original condition, which was as a home for the children to use and enjoy.’ ”
She’d gone on to note that the word “children” had proved to be the key. The lawyers were able to argue that since he hadn’t specified his children, the clause could be interpreted to mean that any children could enjoy the house, and that as long as the building was used for the benefit of children, the will would be satisfied. “Actually, it was Dr. Engersol who first came up with the idea,” Hildie told her now.
“Dr. Engersol?” Brenda asked.
“The director of the school,” Hildie explained. “The Academy was his idea. He’s always been interested in gifted children, and when it became obvious that the house was turning into a massive white elephant, he went to work.” She smiled as