The Gatekeeper's Son by C.R. Fladmark Read Free Book Online

“No, no railways.”
    She looked disappointed. “That is too bad. I like riding trains.”
    Why couldn’t the man own a damn railway?
    “So you are rich, too.”
    Again, I hesitated. “Well, no, not really … but one day I’ll inherit his company.”
    She looked concerned. “You are too young for such responsibility. It is best if Edward does not die soon.” Then she stood and bowed. “Thank you. You have been too kind, wasting your time with a common girl like me.”
    “No, Shoko, I don’t mind.” I sprang to my feet. If I were Mack, I’d have been making out with her by now. She stopped and turned to face me, her eyebrows raised, smiling in a way that made her look older. “Maybe I could show you inside … sometime.”
    She smiled again. “Now would be good.”
    I hesitated. Well, I had offered.

    William wasn’t home and there weren’t any security guys around, so I spoke to someone on the security intercom.
    “This is my friend, visiting from Japan.” I smiled at the camera. “She doesn’t speak English.”
    Shoko smiled and waved.
    “Welcome to the Thompson Manor, miss,” the man said as the gate clicked and began to open. Shoko bowed low toward the camera. She looked impressed as we walked up the curved driveway and stopped several times to admire the flowers.
    I gave her a tour of the main floor. She wanted to look at everything—the carpet, the furniture, the woodwork. Even doorknobs and light switches seemed to fascinate her. But it was when we walked into the huge kitchen with its rows of tall white cabinets and restaurant-grade stainless steel appliances that she looked like her eyes might pop out.
    “What is this place?”
    “It’s the kitchen.”
    She held her breath for a moment. “My father could feed the whole village here.” She ran her hands along the smooth countertops, shaking her head. “This is fit for a god.”
    “Yeah, it’s pretty fancy,” I said as I steered her out of the kitchen.
    She stopped at the stairs. “What is up there?”
    I shook my head. “Grandpa wouldn’t—”
    But she was already climbing. I hesitated and then followed.
    She stopped in the center of Grandpa’s study and turned in a slow circle, taking it all in. A breeze moved the air and I glanced down the hall, wondering if a window was open. Uneasiness settled over me.
    Shoko was by his desk now, tracing the edge with her finger as she circled it. She looked so small next to it and even smaller when she hopped into his chair. Her feet didn’t reach the ground.
    “That’s my grandpa’s chair.” My voice sounded hollow, like I was speaking inside a cave. “You probably shouldn’t sit there.”
    She pulled the middle drawer open and looked in. She held up a stapler, turning it, peering inside. Then she put it back and pulled out a roll of tape. She examined it with the same curiosity.
    “He has interesting things.” Her eyes rose to meet mine and I took a step backward. Her eyes were hard, dark—the same look I’d seen at the library. Like I was in her way.
    She pulled another drawer open and leaned forward to peer in. Swallowing a lump in my throat, I crossed the room and stopped in front of the desk.
    “Please, I’m gonna get in trouble. There’s nothing in there.”
    “Nothing?” The leather creaked as she leaned back in the chair. “What about a book where he records his thoughts?”
    I blinked. “You mean like a journal?”
    She shrugged, her eyes still on mine.
    “I’ve never seen one.” I glanced over my shoulder toward the stairs and lowered my voice. “And even if he did, my grandpa’s stuff is private.”
    “I am interested in him,” she said. “I am—how would you say it?—researching him.”
    I frowned. “Why?”
    She put her shoe against the desk and slowly spun the chair. When it came full circle, she stopped and looked at me again, her dark eyes obscured behind strands of hair that cascaded across her face.
    “Where is it, Junya?” There was nothing