Eventually the touring car drew up before a country inn.
"This is a surprise for you," smiled Draco S. Wren, straightening his bandana. "I didn't know if you knew there was still a Lilac Inn."
Nancy was thrilled. "It's just like the old Lilac Inn in my mystery! It burned down."
"This is a restoration of the original Lilac Inn," said Draco S. Wren. "I happened to hear about it this morning."
"The lilacs are blooming, too!" There was a lilac grove, with flowers ranging in color from white to deep purple. Nancy told Draco S. Wren some lilac lore she had learned when solving the lilac mystery. "They are not to be confused with larkspurs, which figured in another of my mysteries."
"Lilacs become you," he said as he framed her face against a backdrop of lilac blossoms, damp with a recent light rain.
"Oh, Draco S. Wren!" Nancy gushed, then felt embarrassed. She was Nancy Drew, daring girl detective. She had to be calm and collected.
Inside the inn, Draco S. Wren pinned a lilac sprig from the centerpiece to Nancy 's shining golden hair. Tea arrived, with a trolley of jam biscuits, lady fingers, charlotte russe cream puffs, almond torten, walnut meringues, raspberry trifle, and assorted other delectables, in addition to dainty, trimmed cucumber and salmon sandwiches.
"This is just like my books!" Nancy exclaimed, delighted, and barely giving a thought to Bess. "Isn't it a charming and thoughtful gesture when life goes as it should?"
As they gaily consumed the delicacies, Draco S. Wren began to speak of the serious matter he had so far kept from Nancy.
"I have come to consult the great Nancy Drew about a mystery," he said. His zircon ring flashed a reflection on his gleaming teeth.
"You are a man of mystery," Nancy said sweetly. She was flattered and giddy.
" Nancy, do you remember anything of your mother?"
Nancy was startled at the question and aroused by the coincidence. "She died when I was three. All the books say so."
"Are you sure?"
Nancy 's heart leapt up. "I never beheld a death certificate with my own eyes. But I was told of her magnificent deathbed speech. Father wouldn't allow me to attend the funeral."
"Did you ever wonder about her?"
"Yes! Just this week. Do you bring news of my mother? Is she alive after all?" Nancy clapped her hands gleefully. The gesture was surprisingly out of character.
"No, I don't believe she is, I'm sorry to report. But there is something puzzling about her identity. You must apply your sleuthing abilities to several clues I have."
The mention of clues was as appetizing as the cinnamon tea loaf Nancy buttered. She listened eagerly. The atmosphere of Lilac Inn was almost intoxicating.
"What would you say, Nancy, if I told you that your mother didn't die when you were three, but that she ran away to the Alaskan territory?"
"But that seems unlikely. Why should she run away? She had a small child-myself-to care for. We were a contented household. Hannah Gruen was even then an ever-faithful servant."
"Your mother was in love with another man, I am told."
"But how could that be? She was married to Carson Drew, my father." Nancy was truly puzzled.
"I have proof-from various hotel records-that she went to Alaska for a time. And there is a certain note, written on her own perfumed and monogrammed stationery."
Draco S. Wren produced a frayed letter. The note said, "Dear Carson, I am leaving you for another man. His name is Andy C. Wren. We are going to Alaska. Do not try to catch me. Good-bye forever. Bon-Bon."
Nancy recognized her mother's nickname. She was stunned speechless, a rarity. She reviewed her exploits. Could her mother have met foul play at the hands of Felix Raybolt in disguise? A cold, scheming kidnapper he was. Or Alonzo Rugby and Red Busby? A cowardly pair. Or Tom Stripe. She surveyed her repertoire of crooks. The note had been forged, no doubt. Burglars had often entered the Drew home trying to get their hands on Nancy 's clues. They could easily have swiped the monogrammed stationery.
" Nancy, I can see you have put your pretty thinking cap on. I knew you would enjoy this mystery."
Nancy 's mind was whirling as she pieced facts together rapidly. She could hardly finish her baked Alaska.
"Eat heartily, Nancy. There is more." Draco S. Wren took a baked Alaska and more tea. "Let me tell you about a woman named Candy Wren. You recognize the name, of course."
Nancy nodded. Who could fail to recognize that famous personality? Candy Wren's face had once been in the newspapers daily. She was photographed with wealthy playboys and noblemen. And Candy Wren was a popular author of children's books, as everyone knew. "Then you are related to the famous late Candy Wren? Or late famous?"
"She was my mother," said Draco S. Wren. "She rarely frequented our Alaskan frontier home. She was always away on personal appearance tours in her furs, and she left me with nursemaids. She sought the bright lights of the cities but sent me souvenir soaps from hotels. My father, too, neglected me. He was rarely there, for reasons you will soon guess. I grew up a virtual prisoner of the nursery, for it was too cold to go out and play. Alaska was a crystal tundra. I so longed for a true family that I resolved to set upon a quest for a long-lost sister I had heard of. When I was very young I was told about her-about how beautiful and brilliant she was. Her golden hair was described to me so often by my Inuit nannies that I began to confuse her with the princesses in the fairy tales. My childhood was so lonely that I promised myself that if I ever found this beautiful sister I would care for her and give her everything I had."
"What is your theory about the disappearance of the sister? Was she kidnapped from the cradle?" Nancy recalled such a case involving twins.
"No. It is more complicated. And I'm surprised you haven't guessed the solution."
"I recall that Candy Wren perished in an unusual accident a few years ago. Was your lost sister in the accident?" Nancy probed for clues and connections.
"No, her daughter was not with her. Candy Wren disappeared off the Mediterranean coast following a mysterious boat explosion. Alas, the bulk of her fortune-and mine-was with her. A small, carved chest of jewels."
Nancy recalled the many lost jewel boxes she had recovered. "Do you suspect that your mother is still alive and that the jewels have fallen into unscrupulous hands?" Nancy thought fleetingly of pirates and deserted islands.
"No, Nancy. I know that she is dead and that the jewels are lost in the briny deep. Fragments of the box found floating along the coast of Corfu proved that long ago."
"Of course, a diamond embedded in a wayward barracuda is not an unfathomable coincidence," Nancy ventured, thinking of a glorious yachting cruise.
"I'm not trying to solve the mystery of the boat explosion. And the jewels are lost. My search is for the long-lost sister. What do you make of these clues?"
Nancy tried to summon all her wits, but her mind was clouded over. A dangerous blackmailer had once had her cornered like this, but she had aroused herself in the nick of time. "Think of the name Wren, Nancy," said Draco S. Wren with a meaningful look. For a second, he seemed to leer.
"Candy Wren was your mother, and she must have been related to Andy C. Wren, whom you mentioned earlier in an unlikely attachment." Nancy spoke slowly, a crease on her brow. "That is partially correct. Think of that clue, Nancy. Your mother ran away to Alaska with Andy C. Wren. Andy C. Wren, I now reveal, was married to my mother, Candy Wren." Draco S. Wren paused, watching Nancy intently. When he saw no flicker of comprehension in her blue eyes, he added, "Wren was her married name. She didn't migrate to Alaska as a Wren." He paused again, seeming to study Nancy. He seemed annoyed with her. In exasperation, he said, "I'll give you another clue. Her nickname was Bon-Bon." He seemed to lunge slightly toward Nancy as he said this.