L. Marie Adeline- S.E.C.R.E.T

women who might also be going through the steps right now. Is there more than one?
Am I the only one? So many questions I knew Matilda would never answer unless I
became a S.E.C.R.E.T. member.
If the courtyard surrounding the coach house was a tangle of vines and bushes, the
grounds of the Mansion beyond were trimmed and pristine, giving o an unearthly
bright green glow that made the short grass look almost fake. There was a thick smell of
roses in the air, roses that climbed halfway up the sides of the Mansion and looked like a
giant crinoline in pink, yellow and white. The building had an Italianate facade typical
of some of the grander homes in the neighborhood, with wide white columns that shaded
the cool porch and supported a rounded balcony above. But it was grand in a way that
the other houses in the area weren’t. And though beautiful, it felt standosh, a little too
perfect. The whole building was covered in pale gray stucco with white cornices, and the
porch wrapped around the top and bottom. Ornate Juliet balconies framed small
doorways on the second and third oors. The whole place was lit from within by a
warm, dusky glow that was inviting but also strange. We pulled up at the side entrance,
but the cobblestone driveway continued over a rolling hill that led to a garage in the
backyard. It looked like a place you’d never want to leave, but that you could never
really live in either.
A woman dressed in a black-and-white uniform appeared from the side door. She
waved. I lowered the limo’s back window.
“You must be Cassie,” she said. “My name is Claudette.”
I’d become accustomed to waiting for the driver to get out of the car and open my
door. When I stepped out, I noticed a few bodyguard types wandering the grounds, all
wearing tailored suits and dark sunglasses, one of them speaking into an earpiece.
Claudette said, “He’s waiting for you in the kitchen. He doesn’t have very long, but
he’s quite excited to meet you.”
“Who’s he?” I asked, following her. And what did she mean by he doesn’t have very
long? Wasn’t this supposed to be my fantasy? “You’ll see,” she said, keeping a reassuring
hand on my back as she ushered me in through the door.
The side entrance had a marble oor in a black-and-white houndstooth design that
carried down the hallway. A small fountain framed by two cherubs spilled water from
vases into a shallow pool. Peonies poked out of giant vases. I caught a glimpse of a
spectacular foyer to my right. Another bodyguard was sitting on a chair at the base of
the stairs, reading a newspaper.
“Why don’t you wait outside,” Claudette said to him.
The big man hesitated before abandoning the seat.
We made our way down a long hall, following the sound of loud hip-hop or rap music;
I didn’t really know the dierence. My heart was pounding. I felt terribly underdressed
for this place and wondered why they had me in such a plain, everyday outt. The
bodyguards, the tight schedule, the music—all was very confusing. We headed for what
seemed to be the back of the house, passing a number of small plush chairs that lined a
wide hallway, the music getting louder as we appraoched a set of double oak doors. I
noticed the round inlaid windows were covered in black tissue paper. What was going