Chapter 7

It was in mid-December when I received a rather strange call from Judge Andrew Robbins. He asked if he could come over to see us the following morning. Of course, I immediately said yes. He indicated that he wanted to check on his favorite young woman, Melissa. But from the sound of his voice, I didn’t think it was merely a social call.

When he told me there would be two of them coming, I asked if they would plan to join us for luncheon and he immediately agreed.

At ten o’clock the following morning, we heard the crunch of gravel out front, and Jim — now James since he was wearing his butler’s uniform — was there to open the door and welcome our guests. Marty and I were sitting side by side on the sofa in the library — we even had a lovely fire burning since it was a very raw morning — while we awaited our guests.

“Judge Robbins and Robin,” James announced as he closed the door behind him.

Marty and I were on our feet to greet our guests. I was wearing a simple wool dress in Christmas green — it looked good with my silver hair — while Marty was wearing the same dress in red.

After exchanging pleasantries, I asked, “Since you’re interested in checking on Melissa — although we mostly call her Missy — why don’t we go up and see her? She’s in her suite.”

Something was a bit odd. In the first place, Robin had never been identified, although there was a sort of indication that she might have been Andrew Robbins’ wife. But that didn’t seem quite right, either, because he almost appeared to be on tenterhooks. Oh, well ... Robin was also a tall woman — about five feet eight — with tawny hair, green eyes, and a very good figure. Her body appeared to be well-toned as if she got regular workouts. I guessed her age to be early 40s. One thing I noticed was the care with which Robin was looking around the library. I could tell that she was very impressed.

I led the way up the curved stairway. “This is so utterly beautiful!” Robin remarked. “It’s so reminiscent of Tara in Gone With The Wind”.

“Thank you,” I replied. “It duplicates the home’s original and uses a lot of the original staircase, in fact. But unlike the original, this one uses structural steel and is considered to be fireproof.”

“Indeed? An old house like this is fireproof?”

I told her about the fire marshals’ inspection and their findings. She was most impressed.

The door to Missy’s sitting room was open, and we just looked in from the doorway. She was sitting on her typing chair while Prince and Duke were sitting on their haunches with their muzzles side by side on her lap. Both dogs’ ears were cocked, and we could hear Missy talking to them softly, although we couldn’t make out the words.

At that point, she raised her voice slightly and we could hear her say, “Guys, Judge Robbins is going to be visiting today, and he’s very important to me. He’s the wonderful man who allowed me to be adopted by Mama and made all of my happiness possible. You’re both going to be on your very best behavior, aren’t you?”

Two tails thumped the carpet. I took that as an affirmative response.

Missy did, too. “I just knew it!” she exclaimed. “You two are simply perfect!” Again the two tails thumped the carpet, and I could see the dogs basking in their mistress’s praise.

I knocked on the door and Missy spun around in her chair. The two dogs moved away so she could stand up and greet us. I was shocked to see that her eyes were red; she had been crying.

She ran to Judge Robbins and gave him a big kiss. Then she shook hands with Robin. I may be prejudiced, but I thought she was the most beautiful girl in the world. She was wearing a Christmas-red pinafore along with a white blouse with holly and berries embroidered on it. Her golden hair just glistened.

“What’s wrong, sweetie?” Marty asked. “You look like you’ve been crying.”

“I just finished this book, Mama,” she replied. It was Charles Dickens’ A Tale of Two Cities. “The ending... ‘It is a far, far better thing that I do than I have ever done’ ... It was just so beautiful!”

“You read Tale of Two Cities?” Robin asked. I could hear the incredulity in her voice.

“I started it last night,” Missy replied, “and I really couldn’t put it down.”

“But that’s a very difficult book,” Robin pointed out.

“It’s much easier than Shakespeare, though. The language is much more modern. But I really love Shakespeare! Portia’s ‘quality of mercy... ‘The quality of mercy is not strained. It falls as the gentle rain from heaven’ ... It’s just so beautiful! And in Henry V when Hal addresses his troops on the eve of the battle of Agincourt...”

“Good grief! You’ve actually read those works?”

Missy just nodded her head, looking a bit bewildered. Robin was utterly amazed.

At that point, Missy told the dogs to stay while she showed our visitors around her suite. If I hadn’t mentioned it before, Maria was responsible for much of the decorating, particularly in the new rooms. Missy’s room was perfectly done. It was feminine without being cutesy or overdone. Robin oohed and aahed over the four-poster double bed with its canopy and was dumbstruck by Missy’s private bath.

I was pleased. The fact is that while Maria is our maid, her cleaning is confined to light dusting and occasional vacuuming. For the rest of it, she supervises the work of a commercial cleaning crew that comes twice a week, as well as on request when needed. After receiving Judge Robbins’ call, I decided they were needed, and they did their usual job: Everything was spotless and I had to admit that Missy’s bathroom truly glistened. I was impressed, but far more importantly, Robin was, too.

We went downstairs with the dogs padding along after us. When we were in the foyer, I had an idea. “There’s something outside you folks might like to see.”

In the intervening time, the clouds had moved away, the sun by then was shining brightly and the temperature had climbed to about 60.

Leading the way outside, I led the way out to the sidewalk and down to the first section of our wrought-iron fence. I noted that the two dogs had taken position guarding Missy from both directions. Moreover, I noticed that Robin had noted it, too.

“This is a project Missy did herself, with help from Maria. Our sweetheart has very sharp eyes. Although this iron fence had been painted more times than anyone could estimate with the result that these bas reliefs had been buried under paint, Missy thought there might be something interesting under it all. This is what she found,” I noted, pointing to the first image. “She researched everything and did the icons in colors which, we believe, were correct for the period.”

Robin got to her knees and studied the first image closely. “Is ... is this what I think it is? Cornwallis at Yorktown?”

“If you look at them in sequence,” Marty noted, “you’ll see the whole series of events beginning with Cornwallis taking up positions on the York River, the Franco-American siege, to the Battle of the Capes, to his ultimate surrender. What do you two think?”

Slowly we made our way down the length of the fence with Robin and Robbins studying each image carefully.

When we reached the end, Robin stood up and murmured, “Wow! This is utterly priceless! And it’s been here all the time?”

“Yes, it has,” I agreed. “Missy and Maria determined that the images had never been done in color. From the beginning the fence was all-over black. Doing the images in color was Missy’s idea.”

“What do the passers-by say?” Judge Robbins asked.

Marty giggled and replied, “I’m not sure anyone has ever even noticed. They’re less than three feet off the ground, and people tend not to notice things substantially below their sight line. I don’t know if anyone has, but we do know that no one has mentioned them to us nor to anyone we know.”

“Do you mean to tell us that this young girl did this all by herself?”

Marty and I just nodded in unison.

“What an incredible talent!” Robin exclaimed. “But where did she get her art training?”

By this time we had returned to the house and were back in the library. Maria, wearing a sweater and skirt, had taken up a position in an easy chair along with her omnipresent sketch pad.

“Oh, Maria coaches her from time to time,” Marty airily replied.

“But ... I thought Maria was your maid?”

“She is,” I admitted, “and every once in a while, she’ll wave a cloth in the direction of the dust. But not very often, though.”

Without looking up from her sketch pad, Maria stuck out the tip of her tongue.

But Marty took exception. “The hell she does! There’s no dust for her to wave at.”

“No dust?” Robin asked. “How can that be? There’s dust everywhere.”

“But not here. Do you see any? I certainly don’t.”

Robin looked around the room carefully and slowly shook her head.

“It’s our air system,” Marty explained. “It’s modeled on the ones we use in nuclear submarines. Air is filtered, deodorized, sterilized, oxygen is even added sometimes, and it’s ionized. It’s the ionization that gives it an almost clean smell.”

“Good grief!” Robin exclaimed. “With a system like that your electric bill must be astronomic!”

Marty just shook her head and then explained about our gas well and gas turbine generators.

Robin’s eyes got to be as big as saucers while Marty was explaining our system and she ended by murmuring, “Wow!

“But you said Maria helps Melissa with her art. Has she had art training?”

“A little,” I admitted. “But she’s really very good.”

At that point Maria rose from her chair and retrieved her spray can of fixer. As soon as she finished and was waving the pastel in the air to dry it, James announced that luncheon was served. As we moved toward the dining room, Maria gave her picture to Robin.

The woman just stopped dead in her tracks and gasped. “This ... this ... this is a... Mina! My Lord!” Then she looked at Maria and said in a hushed and reverent tone, “You’re... Mina?”

Maria just shrugged and headed for the kitchen while the rest of us proceeded into the dining room. Robin was still in a state of shock. When we were seated, she glared at me and said, “‘A little art training’, indeed!”