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“My name is Dr. George Whitehead, and today, I find myself in a very exciting position,” Dr. Whitehead began. “I stand in the basement of the historical Sunrise Cove Inn of Martha’s Vineyard, where the owners have discovered what seems to be a secret room. Together, we are going to open the secret door between this room and the next and see what’s inside.”
Amanda’s thoughts raced. She searched across the wooden slats for some sign of a door but came up with nothing. It was all green and brown and black. She flinched when she realized she should have worn a face mask to protect herself from spores. But before she could run upstairs, one of the construction workers passed out N95 face masks, and she slipped it over her mouth and nose. It was hard not to think of the pandemic and all the fear that had come with it.
But this was a moment of excitement. It was a historic occasion.
Dr. Whitehead continued to speak to the camera without a mask. He explained that “secret entrances” like this were quite common more than one hundred years ago. “There must be a spring somewhere,” he explained as he rapped on different parts of the wooden wall. On the other side was a hollow echo. “You hear that?” he asked the camera. “The room on the other side is quite large. I would guess ten feet by ten feet? Not a mere closet. That’s for sure.” His voice shifted to a higher pitch. It was clear he was excited.
It took Dr. Whitehead some time to find the trapdoor. After a while, he switched to his normal talking voice and grew disgruntled. Bart kept filming, but his arms looked tense and tired. Amanda had begun to suspect that they would need a chainsaw to get through when—suddenly—came a soft pop, like the sound of a champagne bottle opening.
Dr. Whitehead returned to his vaguely English accent immediately. “Did you hear that?” His eyes were alert. Right in front of him, part of the wall had jumped from the rest of it to reveal a tiny latch. On the count of three, Dr. Whitehead pulled up the ledger and opened the door. The sound of the hinges creaking and groaning made it clear it hadn’t been opened in decades, maybe centuries. Amanda held her breath.
Nobody was allowed inside the room yet except for Dr. Whitehead and Bart with the camera. Amanda held a flashlight inside from the doorway and traced the corners, the ceiling, and the floor. The ceiling was blackened in some places, presumably from the fire that had destroyed the house where the Sunrise Cove Inn now stood. There were two full beds, a bunk bed, a massive trunk that looked fit for buried treasure, a small bookshelf with dusty books on it, and a broken cabinet. In the farthest corner was what looked to be a baby’s crib. Amanda’s heart lurched. She stumbled back, imagining a baby in this room, so far beneath the earth. Why? What was it for?
Grandpa Wes couldn’t stop shaking his head with awe. He wiped his brow with his kerchief and spoke through his mask. “I can’t believe it. I must be dreaming.”
Sam touched the small of Amanda’s back and laughed with surprise. There was nothing to say. Not yet.
Amanda was getting claustrophobic. As Dr. Whitehead continued to monologue to the camera, she told her grandfather and husband she was headed upstairs. They followed after her wordlessly. When they emerged on the landing, the curious gazes of at least twenty pairs of eyes met them. Everyone spoke at once, demanding what they’d seen. Amanda accidentally broke the string of her mask as she pulled it off.
“What was down there?” A female guest with a black bob made fists, her eyes enormous.
“What did you find?” another guest badgered.
Sam removed his mask and put on his “manager” face. “I can’t share details right now,” he began, “but we’ve discovered something historical downstairs. A site that is yet to be fully understood.”
Amanda felt strange and euphoric. As the guests threw more questions at Sam and Grandpa Wes, she weaved through the crowd and turned to corner to find Audrey and Genevieve. Genevieve was awake but happy, kicking her feet at Audrey, who was smiling down at her. It was a beautiful portrait.
* * *
It didn’t take long for the guests at the Sunrise Cove to post about the event on social media. They felt a part of something spectacular and once in a lifetime, and they had to announce it to the world. Their excitement at seeing Dr. George Whitehead in the flesh was palpable, too. A few dared take photographs of him as he left the basement covered in dust. Others posted photos of the Sunrise Cove from the outside and said, “Mystery at the Sunrise Cove! We’re dying to get in the basement to see what’s down there. Tell us your secrets, Mr. Sheridan!”
Amanda watched the news unfold from home. Genevieve was asleep upstairs, and Amanda attempted a noodle recipe she knew Sam liked. Sam was on the couch with a glass of wine and the television on. He was weary but excited. When he flipped to the news, they were already talking about the Sunrise Cove.
Dr. Whitehead had sent the news a video of himself walking through the trapdoor of the basement, but nothing else. It was like a “teaser” video. The anchors speculated wildly about what could possibly be down there.
“It’s another historic event in Massachusetts,” one of the anchors finished happily. “We have a very old American history, and there’s always something new to surprise us from the past.”
Amanda took a seat on the sofa while the noodles boiled and watched Sam’s face. He was rapt.
“We got so many reservations today,” he explained. “For late summer, fall, and even winter. A few people asked if they could come next summer already. It’s barely May 2024, and we’re filling up for June 2025!” He rapped his fist against his thigh and smiled.
Amanda knew he took this seriously. He wanted the Sunrise Cove Inn to flourish. He wanted to prove himself.
Chapter Thirteen
Wes spent that evening watching the news with Beatrice. Twice, they showed a clip of him on television wearing his N95 and bracing himself as Dr. Whitehead entered the trapdoor. He’d been terrified that Dr. Whitehead was walking into something sinister; something that should never have been opened in the first place—like in that film The Mummy. But when he shone a flashlight through the ten-by-ten space, his heart had opened with awe. Whatever that room was, it had a story. And Dr. Whitehead was going to get to the bottom of it.
“You look so handsome,” Beatrice said when they showed Wes on screen again. She stood behind him and swept her fingers through his hair, then lightly massaged his head. Wes could have swooned.
“What do you think it was?” Beatrice asked as they got ready for bed later that night.
Wes wasn’t sure. “Dr. Whitehead said it’s at least one hundred years old and that it was absolutely a part of the burnt-down house. He has theories about what it was used for. A hiding place of some kind.” He stroked his five o’clock shadow and sat on the edge of the mattress. “He thinks it was covered up by accident when my grandparents built the Sunrise Cove.”
“How will he put together the story of the past?” Beatrice asked as she lay back in bed, adjusting the pillow beneath her head.
“I assume he has his ways,” Wes said with a laugh. “It’s scary how much he’s uncovered. He was at a Mayan site a few years back when he noticed a stone that looked a little out there, and he used it to find an enormous stone floor beneath the sand. It was completely preserved.”
“He’s like a magician. He can see through time,” Beatrice said.
