Keys to the Castle by Donna Ball Page A

looked. Finally, with something that must have been her closing statement—Sara hoped it wasn’t anything important—the woman gave a small bow of her head and left the room.
    A marble bathtub. A marble bathtub filled with scented water and rose petals. In a castle. Sara debated for only another moment.
    â€œI don’t care how much it costs,” Sara decided out loud. “I’m going to take a bath in a castle once before I die.”
    And so she did.
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    â€œAnd then ,” Sara said into her cell phone, swinging her feet up over the arm of the settee and adjusting the folds of the luxuriously soft robe around her knees, “I came out of the bathtub and all my clothes had been unpacked and put away! They had even been steam pressed! And my dirty clothes were gone, whisked away just like that to the magical laundry or wherever dirty clothes go. Even my shoes were polished! Can you imagine how many elves must have been working while I was in the bathtub? Dixie, are you sure you didn’t have anything to do with this?”
    â€œAre you kidding?” Her sister, an ocean away, sounded as though she could be in the next room. “I wish I’d thought of it! A castle,” she repeated for what must have been the sixth time. “You’re staying in a castle! Wait until I tell the boys!”
    â€œThe chauffeur said the law firm had changed my reservation. Why would they do that?”
    â€œMaybe something went wrong at the other place,” suggested Dixie. “A flood or something.”
    â€œTheir loss, my gain.” Sara bit into a lush, ripe strawberry coated in white chocolate and barely repressed a moan of delight. “Did I tell you about the towels? They were so fluffy it was like drying off with kitten fur. And they were heated with these flat stones that were packed in the bottom of the basket. And the whole room smells like roses. What’s the name of that fairy tale, where the princess goes to this mysterious castle where food magically appears and the fireplace magically lights itself and beautiful gossamer garments are magically laid out for her?”
    â€œYou mean the one that was an animated classic and an international hit musical?”
    â€œYes, yes, that one.”
    â€œHere’s a hint: Watch out for the Beast.”
    Sara paused in the act of reaching for a cherry dipped in dark chocolate. “Oh,” she said. “ Beauty and the Beast. Right.”
    â€œThe downside of living a fairy tale,” Dixie pointed out. “Sara, who’s paying for all this?”
    â€œI have a theory about that,” Sara said, examining the label on the champagne bottle. It looked expensive, and on second thought, she decided not to open it. “The only thing I can guess is that the law firm must own this place—like a corporate retreat or something. And whenever they have clients from out of town, or out of the country, this is where they put them up. What I can’t figure out is why I would rate a room in the castle.”
    â€œDon’t ask too many questions,” Dixie advised. “Enjoy yourself.”
    â€œWell, until the Beast shows up, anyway.”
    Dixie chuckled. “Just make sure they don’t try to charge you for the champagne and flowers when you go to sign the settlement papers. Sara, it sounds like you’re having a good time.”
    â€œDespite my best intentions,” Sara admitted. She returned the champagne bottle to the ice bucket. “I only wish you could have come with me.”
    A continent and a lifetime away, a screen door slammed and a clamor of shrieking voices filled the background. Dixie said, “What? And give up all this?” Then, sharply, “Boys! Mommy’s on the telephone!”
    Before Sara could succumb to the prickle of nostalgia she was starting to feel, there was a knock on her door. She swung her feet to the floor. “I have to go, Dixie,