“So that’s our story.” Ashish waved the letter in the air. “We’re all Armand, and we’ve got to get to our beloved Guinevere.”
“How do we want to do this?” Pinky asked, her hands on her hips. “I think we should divide ourselves into two groups: guys versus girls.”
“Why two groups?” Samir frowned.
Pinky turned to him, her chin thrust out, ready for a fight. “You have a better idea?”
“Whoa, kids,” Ash said. “Take it easy.”
“Actually, I do,” Sam retorted, ignoring him. “I think we should divide into three groups, seeing as how the room has clearly been divided into three segments.” He pointed to the pirate ship in the center of the room; the right side of the room, which contained the desk; and the left side of the room, which contained the chest. “I’m betting all three of those have clues we’ll need to solve. If we divide into three groups, each group can work on solving their respective clue.”
Pinky narrowed her eyes, and after a minute, she shrugged. “Yeah, actually, that’s true.” Then, smirking, she added, “Even a broken clock is right twice a day.”
Samir opened his mouth to respond, but Sweetie jumped in. “Speaking of clocks,” she said, taking the letter from Ashish and reading it quickly, “did anyone notice that the last line said ‘The clock is ticking’? I feel like that’s a clue.” She gestured to the large antique-looking clock on the wall.
“And that’s on the desk side of the room, so let’s divide up?” Rishi looked around, and everyone nodded. “Okay, I think it just makes sense for Dimple and me to work together, since we each know how the other thinks. And similarly, Ashish, you’ll be with Sweetie.” He turned slowly to Pinky and Samir. “That leaves… you two. Is that okay?”
Ashish tried to suppress a grin as a range of emotions washed over Samir’s face—happiness (which he quickly squelched), uncertainty, and even a little bit of fear. Pinky’s face, on the other hand, was a mask of annoyance.
“Of course it’s okay,” she responded, even though it must’ve killed her to say it. “It’s not like I’m going to break up one of the happy couples.”
“Sweetie and Ash, why don’t you guys take the desk and the clock, since Sweetie was the one who saw that the clock might be a clue?” As an older (bossy) brother, Rishi took on the role of leader pretty easily. “Pinky and Samir, do you guys want to take the chest? And Dimple and I can do the pirate ship.”
Ash bent deeply at the waist and took Sweetie’s hand, planting a kiss on it. “My dearest Guinevere,” he said in a really terrible British accent. “Come! We shall go hither, to unlock the aforementioned clues!”
Sweetie laughed, grabbed his shirt collar when he straightened up, and planted a kiss on his lips, her mouth soft and firm. “I love you.”
Ashish’s heart trip-hammered in his chest. He’d never get used to her saying that to him. Never ever. He gazed into her hazel eyes, getting lost in them for a moment. “I love you too.”
Pinky made gagging noises. He glared at her over Sweetie’s shoulder, and then the couples all melted away to their respective corners of the moodily lit room to decipher their clues. They had exactly thirty-nine minutes left.
Ashish & Sweetie
The clock that hung on the wall above the writing desk was shaped like a big stopwatch. It had a brassy metal coating, and its large face gave the appearance of being tea-stained. The numbers were all Roman numerals, and a large metal second hand ticked as Ash and Sweetie looked up at it.
She turned to him, smiling. “You’re taller, so I think that means you have to get it down.”
He kissed her on the nose. “Gladly, oh tiny one.” He had to stand on his tiptoes to do it, but Ashish was able to unhook the clock off the wall and bring it down to the surface of the desk.
Sweetie flipped it over. On the back was a clear plastic pocket, and in it was a slip of paper. Her eyes shining, Sweetie reached two fingers in and pinched the paper, bringing it back out and unfolding it.
“There are many lovers whose lives and loves span the centuries and who’ve captivated my heart, dear Armand. But fewer people have had a love affair like the two I’m thinking of. When he said, “You’ll be my _________ always because mine is the true _________,” I nearly cried, so great was my longing for you. Do you know who he was and who he was speaking to? If so, you might just unlock the next clue.”
Sweetie gave the slip of paper to Ashish, her brow furrowed in concentration. “That sounds so familiar. That’s from a book, right?”
Ash read the clue and set the paper down on the desk, next to the clock that was still ticking steadily away. “It does sound familiar, but no… it’s not a book.” He didn’t read nearly as many romance novels as Sweetie. Or novels, period. “It’s—oh my God. I have it.”
Sweetie looked up at him. “What? Where’s it from?”
Ashish beamed at her. “Do you remember our favorite pastime over winter break?”
Sweetie cocked her head, confused. “Our favorite…” Then understanding rushed onto her face. “You mean…?”
Ash nodded, grinning. “Watching Downton Abbey. You said I couldn’t possibly be serious about you unless I understood your deep and abiding love of the Abbey. I’ll be honest. I considered ripping my eyeballs out just so I’d have an excuse to not watch it, but once we began, I got totally sucked in.”
Sweetie laughed, her eyes crinkling in mirth. “Yeah, you did. I remember wanting to stop and do something else once, and you were like, ‘But what about poor Edith? We can’t just leave her hanging!’ ”
Ashish pretended to look outraged. “Hey, she was a very complex character who got the short end of the stick a lot!”
Sweetie held up her hands. “Sorry, sorry.” Then, glancing back down at the piece of paper, she said, “So… are you saying this quote is from Downton Abbey? But—oh my God! Matthew says that to Mary, doesn’t he?”
Ashish nodded. “Yep. ‘You’ll be my Mary always because mine is the true Mary.’ ” He dabbed his eye with a finger. “Only Matthew truly understood the essence of Mary.”
“What about Henry, though?” Sweetie said, and then she shook her head. “No, we need to stay on task.”
“Right. So, the note says ‘You might just unlock the next clue.…’ So are we looking for a lock? Maybe ‘Mary’ is the password?”
“Or ‘Matthew,’ ” Sweetie agreed as they both began poking around the writing desk. She looked over her shoulder. “Hey,” she said conspiratorially, and Ash leaned in closer. “Do you think Pinky and Sam are okay? Don’t be obvious when you look.”
Ashish itched the back of his neck casually, then stole a glance over his shoulder. Pinky was saying something intensely. (Well, Pinky said everything intensely, but this was different—he could tell.) Samir’s gaze was trained on her, his jaw set.
“They’re always bickering.” Widening his eyes, Ash turned back to Sweetie. “Kind of like my Patel grandparents. But if anyone else criticizes either of them, the other one comes at the criticizer, teeth bared and claws out. It’s scary because my grandma is like a feral cat.”