The Magnolia Palace(83)

“May I ask, why do you have multiple skirts hanging in the coat check?” Veronica asked. She’d heard of ties for underdressed diners at fancy restaurants, but skirts?

Miss Helen shot her a sharp look. “Because visitors to my library must conform to my dress code. No slacks, no short skirts, no spike heels on the women, and the men must wear jackets.” She nodded in Joshua’s direction. “If it were business hours, you would be in a jacket, young man.”

Veronica sat next to Joshua on the sofa.

“I have standards,” said Miss Helen. She set a tray holding coffee cups down on the low table in front of them. “What’s your last name?” The question was directed at Joshua.

“Lawrence.”

She went to her desk and pulled out a file. “Let’s see here.” She ran her finger down a sheet of paper. “Joshua Lawrence, intern, Brooklyn College.”

“That’s me,” he answered.

“Lawrence, anglicized from the French Laurent. A good, solid name. Ever since the Great War, I have washed my hands of all things Teutonic, and I would advise you young people to do the same. I live on a farm north of here, and believe me when I say no German visitor has stepped foot on my property. When I had the power, I refused German visitors entry to view the Frick Collection, and same with my library. I have softened in that aspect since. Reluctantly.” She settled her gaze on Veronica. “What’s your surname?”

Oh, no.

She could lie and make up a fake one, but her father had always been proud of their family ancestry. “Weber.”

Miss Helen recoiled as if she’d just been given an electric shock. “That won’t do. That won’t do at all.”

“You can’t be serious,” said Veronica to Miss Helen. “You’d dismiss an entire country of people?”

“I was proven correct in World War II, wasn’t I? Yet no one would listen to me. No one.”

“My parents are English,” Veronica said, as calmly as she could. “We’ve lived there for generations. I’m British, not German.” The fact that she had to defend herself against this insanity rankled her. “Not that it matters. All that was decades ago.”

“I saw firsthand what those heathens did.” She pointed to Joshua. “He can stay. But you, take off that skirt and get out of here. For all I know, you were here ransacking my father’s home, my father’s pride. Typical German.”

Veronica rose, her heart pounding. She had been ransacking the house. It was best if she gathered her things and got out of here as quickly as possible.

“Wait!” said Joshua, getting to his feet. “Miss Helen, we have something to show you. Something that we think is from your past.”

Joshua spoke calmly and evenly, as if approaching an excitable foal. He explained that they’d found clues to a scavenger hunt that appeared to have taken place decades ago, before the Frick residence became the Frick Collection.

Veronica expected Miss Helen to get even angrier at their discovery, but instead, she withdrew into herself as Joshua talked, becoming smaller in stature, weaker.

“Can I see them, the clues?” she said hoarsely.

“Veronica, show her,” said Joshua.

Veronica reached into her sweater pocket and pulled them out.

“What are you, a kangaroo?” said Miss Helen. But her hands began to shake as she read through each note. A couple drifted to the floor, but Joshua quickly retrieved them.

“The past two days, when we were locked inside, we followed them,” Joshua said. “It was a unique way to view the art, from an insider’s perspective. It occurred to me that maybe we could incorporate these into the tours. Have visitors try their hand.”

Miss Helen stiffened. “That’s a stupid idea. This was some trifling game done for a gentleman caller, from another age.”

“Richard J. Danforth,” offered Joshua.

Miss Helen lifted her chin. “I haven’t heard the name Richard Danforth since 1919. How did you know?”

“Veronica saw it on a guest list for a dinner party, dated around the same time, and we compared it to the monogram on the watch fob we found.”

“Good Lord. I’d forgotten all about that. You made it to the end of the scavenger hunt? Mr. Danforth certainly did not. Perhaps I should marry you.”

“I, uh, we did make it to the very end,” Joshua stammered. “If you like, we can show you.”

“Lead the way, Mr. Lawrence. Lead the way.”



* * *





Veronica followed Joshua and Miss Helen through the secret door to the Frick mansion and back into the art gallery. As they neared the enamels room, her legs began to shake. She’d been so stupid to hide the diamond.

Joshua approached the first secret compartment and opened it with his pen, taking out the fob, which he handed to Miss Helen.

She rubbed her thumb along the silk. “I ordered it myself, especially for the hunt, but my intended didn’t make it this far. Funny how no one wears these anymore.” She lifted it up, holding it with her forefinger and thumb, and handed it to Joshua. “You can keep it. It means nothing to me.”

She stepped back and looked around. “When we first moved in, this was my father’s office. He used to keep a stash of peppermints inside that compartment. He thought I didn’t know, but I’d sneak in and steal a few regularly.” One hand went to her jaw. “No wonder my teeth are so bad now.”