by V. M. Burns
“Can you tell me the time?” She tapped the watch.
I looked at my phone. When I told her the time, we picked up the pace. She led me back down the hallway, then reached into her pocket and handed me a card. While we walked back the way we came, she explained, “This is a card with the important information, including our telephone number, the number of her suite, and directions for watching her on the pet cams.”
When we were back in the lobby, I took care of the mundane information of checking Aggie in.
“You have great handwriting.” I noticed her beautiful script.
She smiled. “Thank you. I used to be left-handed when I was younger and my handwriting was horrible.”
“Used to be left-handed?”
She nodded. “Yeah, my teachers forced me to use my right hand.” She shook her head. “Some superstitions about left-handed people being evil. When I was a kid, my teachers spanked me if I used my left hand for anything.”
“That’s horrible.”
She shrugged. “Now I can’t really use my left hand for much of anything.”
I completed the forms with my vet information and my contact information and left a credit card for charges.
Later, I sat in the car and stared at the building. I felt like a mother who had dropped her infant off at day care for the first time. I was confident the staff would take good care of Aggie. Plus, I was only going to be gone for a few days. Aggie would have a great time. However, none of that prevented a tear from falling as I backed out of the parking lot and drove away. As I looked back at the building in my rearview mirror, a dark cloud rolled overhead and I couldn’t get away from the feeling in the pit of my stomach that it was a bad sign.
Chapter 3
By the time I got on the interstate, excitement had drowned out the sadness. Once I arrived at the museum, where I’d agreed to meet Linda Kay, I was laughing at the memory of Aggie, sprawled out sphinx-like on a bear-skinned rug gnawing away at a huge dog-shaped treat that was nearly as long as she was.
I was the first to arrive and checked my watch. If I hurried, I could run over to Da Vinci’s bakery and pick up coffee and some delicious treats for the ride. The bakery was just a block away from the museum, and I was lucky to get there when there wasn’t the normal long line of customers. I recognized the young man behind the counter from my nearly daily visits since I’d discovered the bakery.
“Good morning. The usual?” Brad smiled.
“Not today.” I explained I was taking a road trip with my boss and her husband and wanted a few goodies for the road.
He nodded and suggested a variety pack of pastries and a carton of coffee. He even threw in three travel mugs to help. Da Vinci’s wasn’t cheap, but it was well worth the price. So I paid and hurried back to the parking lot.
I didn’t have long to wait. Linda Kay and her husband, Edward, pulled up next to me in a white SUV that made my heart contract with the tiniest bit of jealousy. When I saw Linda Kay’s beautiful smile radiating at me from the front passenger seat window, I quickly squelched all jealous feelings and smiled back.
She lowered her window. “Good morning. Sorry we’re a little late.”
“No worries. You gave me time to pick up a little something for the trip.” I got out of the car and retrieved the Da Vinci’s container.
“Oh my goodness, you shouldn’t have.”
I passed the container to her through the window.
“But I’m really glad you did.” She laughed.
Edward got out and walked around to help me with my luggage. I popped the back hatch of my SUV, and he reached in and got my suitcase. “Is this it?” He shot a glance at his wife. “Imagine that, only one suitcase.” He turned away and winked at me.
Edward Weyman was a quiet, soft-spoken man. He wasn’t tall, nor was he short. He wasn’t fat or skinny. He was an average man of average height with an average-looking face. His brown eyes and wispy brown hair were also pretty average and nondescript. However, what set Edward Weyman apart was his heart. He was the kindest, most gentle soul of a man I’d ever met. I knew from Linda Kay he was retired from the post office. He had always been handy and had used a lot of those skills to help make their home handicap-accessible by building a ramp for Linda Kay’s scooter, installing handrails, and retrofitting their kitchen so she could indulge in one of her favorite pastimes, cooking. Now he was fulfilling a lifelong passion and had started building custom furniture. Like me, Edward wasn’t an employee of the museum, so I knew from doing the books, his expenses weren’t covered. Nevertheless, I thought it showed how much he loved Linda Kay that he often traveled with his wife, especially for overnight stays, to help her with personal things and to make sure she was comfortable. Jacob said at one time Linda Kay had been more mobile and used crutches, but she was no longer able to do that and relied on her scooter much more. Jacob was an employee and had majored in art, so his trip would have been paid by the museum. He would not only be able to help Linda Kay with any work-related things, but he would also be able to lend his knowledge and expertise to her. Unfortunately, that was one area where I wouldn’t be able to help. However, I was determined to do my best.
When I got into the back seat, I felt as though I was sitting in the lap of luxury. The saddle-brown quilted leather seat felt like butter and had charcoal piping and wood trim, which gave the vehicle an added layer of opulence.
“Nice car.” I ran my hands over the seat.
“Thank you.” Linda Kay handed me a coffee and extended the pastry box for me to make a selection. “We got a great deal on it.”
“Our old car got damaged in a hailstorm.” Edward backed out of the parking lot.
“We loved that car.” Linda Kay took a bite of a cheese Danish and moaned.
Edward got us onto the interstate in a few short turns before reaching over and selecting a pastry from the box. “Totaled…”
“We were forced to get a new car and needed something big enough to accommodate my scooter.” Linda Kay finished his sentences as a matter of practice acquired after three decades of marriage.
I had a great conversation with Linda Kay, with the occasional smart-alecky crack thrown in by Edward. When combined with the sensation of floating on clouds that riding in a luxury vehicle gave me, it was a quick and pleasant trip. The two-hour ride from Chattanooga to Atlanta flew by in record time. Even the normally paralyzing Atlanta traffic wasn’t as torturously slow, and we actually continued to move. Although at times we crept along at a snail’s pace, we continued to move. I thanked God multiple times for the commuter lane. The fact that today was Sunday also probably contributed a lot to our continued forward progress.
During the ride, Linda Kay filled me in on what to expect at the art auction, which I found fascinating. She likened the event to an upscale and refined sporting event akin to The Hunger Games. Art lovers, museum curators, and collectors vied for the finest works of art.
She passed to me the catalog the auction house had provided, and I flipped through the pages, marveling at the beautiful paintings, sculptures, glass works, and other objects. Linda Kay and Jacob had pored over the catalog for weeks prior to the auction, but since I wasn’t expected to attend, I’d stuck to my ledgers.
“We don’t have pockets deep enough to get the really fine pieces,” Linda Kay said.
I gasped. “This says Leonardo da Vinci,” I said in the quiet, reverential tone I reserved for church and funerals. “Seriously, they’re auctioning a real Leonardo da Vinci?”
Linda Kay chuckled. “It’s actually a newly discovered Leonardo. Experts are still debating the authenticity of the painting, but enough of them have signed off on it that it’s finally getting acknowledged as the real thing.” She shook her head. “The curators from the big museums will be bidding on that. Although I think it’ll go to a private collector.”
“Wow! I can’t
believe they’re still finding paintings by Leonardo da Vinci after all this time.” I paused to consider the idea that a masterpiece could lie around, undiscovered and unrecognized, for centuries. “Do you think it’s real?”
I saw her shoulders rise in a shrug. Although I couldn’t see her face, I knew the expression. “Beats me.”
“Not likely,” Edward mumbled as he skillfully changed lanes.
“Check out that pendant on page twenty-seven,” Linda Kay said.
I flipped to the page and stared at a gold and enamel egg pendant. “A translucent mauve enamel divided by a chased laurel band within red and opaque white borders.” I scanned the rest of the description. “Believed to be created circa eighteen ninety-five by Fabergé work master Alfred Thielemann.” I looked up. “What’s a Fabergé work master?”
“The House of Fabergé operated in the late nineteenth century, much like a McDonald’s franchise today. When Carl Fabergé took over running the business in the late eighteen hundreds, things were going well. In fact, there was so much work the two Fabergé brothers couldn’t keep up. So, they hired craftsmen…work masters, who owned their own workshops to produce the jewelry and art pieces they designed. The brothers provided sketches or models of what they wanted, but the craftsman did the actual work.”
“You mean Fabergé didn’t create their own artworks? Not even the Fabergé eggs?”
Linda Kay chuckled. “Probably not. Although Carl Fabergé was a highly trained craftsman, there’s no proof he actually made anything.” She took a peek at me in the rearview mirror and laughed. “Oh, my goodness. I’m sorry to burst your bubble.”
“Well, if they didn’t make them, why are they called Fabergé eggs?”
“The House of Fabergé designed them. The craftsmen were commissioned to execute their designs.”
“Walt Disney didn’t create most of the Disney films,” Edward said.
“You’re right. I guess I just envisioned Fabergé as this brilliant jeweler who designed those amazing eggs.”
“He was a brilliant jeweler. However, he most likely didn’t sit down and spend countless hours actually sculpting, soldering, and creating the eggs. It’s known that two master workmen were responsible for creating most of the eggs, Michael Perkhin and a Finnish jeweler, Henrik Wigström.”
“I feel like you’ve just told me there’s no Santa Claus.”
“Of course there’s a Santa Claus. Don’t let anyone tell you any differently.” Linda Kay laughed. “Seriously, I hope I haven’t ruined the art show for you.”
“Oh no. Not at all.” I shook off the disappointment I’d allowed to cloud my thoughts and flipped through the rest of the catalog. “Do you think you’ll be able to get this pendant?”
“I’m hoping the big guns will be distracted by the da Vinci and the other sexier pieces during the evening sale tonight and then we’ll just sneak in tomorrow at the day sale and snatch up a few bargains.” She looked around the seat. “I did tell you to pack an evening dress, didn’t I?”
I nodded. “I packed one, but it’s been a long time since I’ve worn it. I hope it still fits.”
Edward mumbled something about a “monkey suit” as he pulled off the interstate and up to the front of the Ritz-Carlton Hotel.
I stared at the large façade and said a silent prayer that I wouldn’t say or do anything to embarrass myself or Linda Kay.
The marble floors, crystal chandeliers, and rich wood-paneled walls created an atmosphere of luxury, which would have normally made me uncomfortable. However, I found myself smiling at the thought that my dog was lounging in equally luxurious surroundings. My room was large, with a king-sized bed that felt huge for one person. I had a balcony that looked out on the city.
I had several hours before I needed to dress for the evening, so I pulled out my laptop and connected to the Pet Haven website. Aggie was stretched out on the bear-skinned rug in front of her fake fireplace, asleep with her head on a large stuffed bear. She looked peaceful and obviously unconcerned about me. The large bone treat was nearby, and I smiled at the corner of the treat that was missing. She might be small, but she was definitely determined.
Watching Aggie sleep made me drowsy. I decided to explore Atlanta rather than napping. I knew Linda Kay had scheduled a massage and Edward was planning to sit in the bar and watch some big college football game between the University of Georgia and Alabama.
According to the guidebook in my room, the hotel was only a half mile away from Centennial Olympic Park, the Georgia Aquarium, and a few other tourist attractions. I stopped at the concierge desk on my way out and got a map and confirmed my directions. Then I headed out for a quick look around.
Despite the fact that it was the middle of the winter, the weather in Atlanta was still warm. I walked to Centennial Olympic Park and watched the water shoot up from the Olympic rings. My timing was great, and I was able to watch one of the four Fountain of Rings shows, where the fountains were synchronized to familiar music and included lighting and sound effects. The show was spectacular, and I found myself applauding with the other spectators when it was over. In addition to the map, the concierge had also given me a brochure about the park, which included a link to their mobile website. The website had an audio tour, which I listened to as I strolled. I learned about the park’s history and the 1996 Olympic Games, which the city of Atlanta had hosted. In addition to the history, I also learned about the architecture and culture of the city through the music and even a trivia game. The twenty-one-acre park was massive. Too massive to explore completely. So I took a few pictures with my cell phone and made a mental promise to return in the spring or summer. Visiting the aquarium would have to wait too. Hopefully, I’d have time tomorrow to explore more.
I made my way back to the hotel in time for tea on the mezzanine, another item my in-room brochure alerted me to try. It wasn’t quite the same as the high teas Dixie and I experienced when we spent a semester abroad in college. However, it was a wonderful, indulgent experience I thoroughly enjoyed. Sterling silver tea strainers and bone china cups gave the event a feeling of elegance. Champagne was an American addition that lent to the special feel. In addition to the tea, the hotel served slices of seeded tea cakes, scones, and sandwiches with salmon and caviar, certainly a step up from the cucumber sandwiches I’d had in England.
After tea, I went to my room and took a quick nap before showering and dressing for dinner. Linda Kay and Edward had arranged to meet me for cocktails at six, by which time I was refreshed and excited. It wasn’t every day I got to dress up in fancy evening wear and mingle with tuxedo-clad art experts.
Linda Kay was dressed in a black full-length evening dress with an elegant silver brocade jacket. From under her scooter, one silver shoe rested. Linda Kay only had one leg, but she never let that hinder her from doing whatever she chose, including kickboxing classes or tai chi. I had yet to muster up the courage to ask how she managed the kickboxing, but perhaps the occasion would present itself for me to ask.
Edward stood nearby in the standard black tuxedo that all of the men had donned. His eyes darted around the room like a caged animal’s, and he tugged at his shirt collar so frequently, Linda Kay swatted his hand.
“Good evening. You two look wonderful,” I said.
“We clean up pretty nice, don’t we?” Linda Kay smiled. “Now, if Edward will stop tugging at his collar, folks might think we belong here.”
Edward took a sip of his drink and mumbled something about “feeling like a waiter.”
Linda Kay smiled at me. “Now, you look absolutely gorgeous in that dress. I’ll bet Red would fall on his knees if he saw you in that.”
Heat rose to my face. “I bought this dress years ago to wear to a fancy Christmas Eve party in Lighthouse Dunes, but Albert got shingles and we weren’t able to go.” I stared at the dress, which was also black. It was a fitted black velour dress with a
bateau neckline and long sleeves. At the top of each shoulder was white sheer fabric that flowed on each side of a plunging deep V on the back that went almost to my waist, where it ended in a large bow. In contrast to the conservative front, the back also had a slit that went farther than my Midwestern sensibilities would have liked. In fact, I’d considered having the slit reduced. However, I found the slit made it possible for me to not only walk without shuffling like Morticia Addams, but it also allowed me to lift my leg enough to get in and out of the car.
Linda Kay grinned. “I haven’t known you long, but this dress is beautiful, and I just can’t imagine …”
I laughed. “You can’t picture a conservative CPA like me wearing it?”
She laughed. “Well, it doesn’t seem like something you’d pick.”
“Normally, I wouldn’t have worn anything quite this daring.” I explained how I’d taken the train to Chicago and my daughter, Stephanie, and I had gone shopping to find something to wear to the party. We’d gone to several stores with no luck. Before giving up, Stephanie insisted we try Neiman Marcus on Michigan Avenue. I was certain I couldn’t afford an umbrella in the store, but I was surprised when she discovered the designer dress on a clearance rack. It had been marked down multiple times and was now less than fifty dollars.
Linda Kay laughed. “Now, that sounds like you.”
Edward returned with a glass of champagne for each of us. We talked and Linda Kay smiled and chatted with art associates who came up to talk to her. Eventually, it was time for dinner and we went into the dining room.
Dinner was delicious, and I ate more than I should, but I promised myself I’d walk it off tomorrow in the aquarium. Afterward, we drank coffee until it was time for Linda Kay to pick up her paddle and make her way to the evening show in the hotel’s ballroom.