Before noon, Alice left to meet with the professor at the restaurant in Maplehurst Inn on Main Street for lunch. Alice had originally suggested meeting at The Cup & Saucer, but the professor didn’t seem to think it had “the right ambience,” so she had reserved a quiet table near the back of the restaurant where they could talk about the set design for the play without being disturbed. Alice told Annie she thought they would be coming to Grey Gables to see the tapestry and the other props by about one o’clock.
Annie finished her own lunch and sat crocheting in the living room while she waited for them to arrive. It was getting close to one-thirty when she heard the sound of a car pulling into her driveway. She looked up and out through the window and saw Alice’s sporty Mustang parked behind her own classic Malibu. Another car pulled up behind Alice’s car. It was a really impressive luxury car—a silver, four-door Mercedes-Benz Coupe. At first, Annie wondered why there were two cars, but then she stood up, and she could see that there were more people than she was expecting.
Alice got out of the car quickly and was headed toward the house. From the front passenger-side seat of Alice’s car there arose a tall, blond-haired, young man that Annie had never seen before. Then she recognized Felix as he clambered out of the Mustang’s tiny back seat. Professor Howell, in his cashmere coat and wearing a stylish Stetson hat, stepped out of the driver’s side of the Mercedes and walked around to the passenger side to open the door. It was Stella who got out of the front seat. After she was out of the car, and he had closed the door, the professor offered his arm to her, which she accepted.
At the same time, the back door of the Mercedes that faced Annie opened, and a tall, distinguished-looking man got of the car. Then he leaned over to offer his hand to a woman with short white-gray hair who had scooted across the seat in order to get out of the car on the same side. The man and woman were considerably older than Annie—perhaps not Stella’s age, but not much younger than her either; Annie guessed they might be closer in age to Professor Howell. She had never seen them before, but she had a feeling they might be the Fortescues.
Annie went to the front door and opened it, standing in the doorway with her arms crossed against the cold as she waited for her visitors to walk up the driveway and along the front walk that led to the porch. Alice reached Annie first, and with a contrite look on her face she said quietly, “I’m sorry! I didn’t know that the others were going to show up. Fortunately, there was plenty of room in the restaurant. I’m glad we arranged to meet there instead of The Cup & Saucer! I just couldn’t say no when they all wanted to come over here to see the tapestry.”
“Don’t sweat it, Alice,” Annie said, reverting to the slang they had used as teenagers during her summer visits to Stony Point. “I really don’t mind.” She smiled reassuringly.
Felix and the other young man were close on Alice’s heels; the people from the Mercedes were taking their time coming across the driveway, which had been shoveled, but retained a layer of hardpacked snow. Alice took that time to introduce the young men. “Annie, you know Felix, of course.” Felix was apparently a man of few words even when he wasn’t in the presence of Professor Howell. He simply nodded once at Annie, pausing to push his glasses back up his nose afterward. Alice continued to introduce the other young man. “And this is Stacy Lewis, the actor who will be playing the part of King Lemuel in the play. Stacy, this is Annie Dawson.”
Annie’s first impression of the young actor was that he was simply gorgeous.
“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Dawson,” said Stacy, flashing a mouthful of pearly white teeth and reaching out to shake her hand.
She took his hand and said, “Nice to meet you too. Please call me Annie. Come on in out of the cold.”
By then, the others were climbing the steps onto Grey Gables’s porch. “Please come inside where it’s warm,” said Annie. Once they were all inside in the main hallway, she closed the door and turned to introduce herself. “Hello, I’m Annie Dawson. Welcome to Grey Gables.”
Stella took over the introductions. “Annie, I’d like you to meet dear friends of mine, Dolores and Cyril Fortescue. Of course, you know Professor Howell.”
“Nice to see you again, Professor,” said Annie. “And I’m pleased to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Fortescue. Here, let me take your coats.”
The Fortescues were friendly and gracious, and insisted that Annie call them by their first names since they would all be working together on the play. Cyril spoke with a British accent that sounded like the “upstairs” variety of some Masterpiece Theater drama, and Dolores’s accent was more like Annie had gotten used to hearing all around her in Maine. She thought that Dolores must be a native of the state. With all of the formalities out of the way, Annie explained how she and Alice had set up the props in different rooms and asked the professor where he wanted to begin.
“Well, I think we’d all like to see this tapestry we’ve been hearing about from Mrs. MacFarlane,” said the professor, who continued to insist on using surnames. Annie supposed it was his way of keeping the distance needed to maintain his authority as the director—and with his students as their professor.
“Yes, it sounds lovely,” said Dolores. “Cyril and I love art and antiques. This piece sounds unique and interesting.”
“Very well then,” said Annie. “It’s just over here in the living room. It might be a little crowded for all of us. Alice, maybe you could show Felix and Stacy into the library, and then they can see the tapestry after this group is finished.”
Annie’s four guests lined up along the bottom edge of tapestry to gaze upon it, hardly saying a word for several minutes. Annie stood off to the side, and she was in a position to study Dolores and Cyril while they studied the it.
Cyril Fortescue was very tall and lanky. His hair was silvery gray and thick, and his eyes were a dusky blue color. His pleasant expression changed very little, as if he was completely unperturbed by the world around him. He was wearing blue jeans and a blue denim shirt under a dark gray wool sport jacket. He was still a very handsome man, and Annie could imagine him playing the romantic lead in his younger years.
Dolores Fortescue was pixielike. The tip of her small nose turned up just slightly, and her blue eyes seemed to have an inner sparkle. The style of her hair only served to accentuate Annie’s impression of her—it was cut in layers that ended just above chin-length, with her ears peaking out behind the strands that brushed her cheeks, revealing dangly copper-colored earrings. She had a petite figure, and she was wearing jeans like her husband, but with a soft, pink gingham-print oxford-style blouse. She had been wearing a sweater, but in the warmth of Grey Gables she had taken it off and tied the arms around her neck. She looked up at Annie just then and caught Annie watching her, but she just smiled and gave Annie a quick wink, and then looked back down at the tapestry.
“I can see why Mrs. MacFarlane is so excited about this,” said the professor. “It’s quite remarkable. I agree with her that it would be a perfect backdrop in the great hall set. But I understand you have some misgivings about our using it?” he asked, looking at Annie.
“Well, yes,” said Annie. “I admit I’m hesitant. You see, my grandmother was a great friend to many people in her long life, and she would often store things for them in the attic. In her later years, I think that Grey Gables just became too much for her to handle, though I didn’t realize it at the time. It was only when I returned to Stony Point after her death that I could see that it had been a struggle, and that she could have used my help, even though she never asked for it. I wish I had been more thoughtful. But the point is that there are things in the attic that might not necessarily be mine to dispose of as I please. Yes, the house is mine, but it’s just not always so clear-cut for me when it comes to things from the attic—especially when it comes to something like this. I want to be true to my grandmother’s spirit of friendship, and I want to be sure that the things that are up there end up in the right hands.”
“I think I unde
rstand your reservations,” said the professor, “but surely it can do no harm for us to use it, very carefully mind you. Perhaps we can work it out so that it is only on stage for the dress rehearsals and the actual performances. That should mitigate the chances of anything happening to it. Please consider what the addition of this fine work of art could mean to the play.”
Annie decided. “All right. I’ll agree to that. I’ll check around and see what I can find out about the best way to display it and anything else I might need to do to protect it. Molly Williams over at Expert Cleaners is pretty knowledgeable about all things having to do with taking care of any sort of cloth. She may be able to offer some suggestions.”
“I have some friends in the fine arts and antique businesses who might be able to offer some advice too,” said Cyril, “and if you should decide you’d like to sell it, be sure to let me know. I have contacts at all the big auction houses.”
Annie was caught off guard. It had never entered her mind to sell the tapestry. She just said, “Thank you, Cyril, but I don’t have any plans to sell the tapestry. But if you happen to have any good advice from your friends about storing and protecting it, I would appreciate it.”
“Very well,” said Cyril. His placid demeanor seemed just a little ruffled, but there was nothing that Annie could do about it.
“Well, it certainly is lovely,” said Dolores. “I’ve never seen anything quite like it, except perhaps in Europe. Though, now that I think about it, it does remind me, in style at least, of the Unicorn Tapestries at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York.”
“I agree,” said Cyril. “Whoever made this had a real understanding of the power of image. He or she has used a lot of iconic images to add layers of meaning.”
“What do you mean?” asked Annie.
“Well, just take—for instance—the panel where the woman is gathering wool. The bush is a holly bush. Its red berries represent the blood of Christ, and its thorns the “crown” that was thrust upon Jesus’s head. In the background, the single lamb among the sheep—that is a way of representing Jesus with his Church,” said Cyril.
“That’s really interesting,” said Annie, seeing the tapestry in a whole new way. “How did you come to know so much about this?”
“It’s just something I’ve studied on my own,” replied Cyril. “It’s funny though; there was a time when people understood how to read images like these in a way that we’ve lost today.”
“Why is that funny?” asked Stella.
“It’s funny in an ironic way,” said Cyril. “Here we are, in a culture in which we are surrounded, one might even say bombarded, by images, yet we often don’t have the slightest idea of their power to influence us and couldn’t tell you the meaning of them if we were asked. We may talk about those ‘poor illiterate people’ of the Middle Ages, but let me tell you, they understood rituals and images, and they could read them like you and I can read books. We’ve lost that understanding to a large degree, in part because we’ve told ourselves that what we see every day doesn’t affect us. In my opinion, we’re only fooling ourselves.”
“Well said,” the professor interjected. “Though, as a professor at an institution of higher learning, I like to think that I convey to my students the importance of the image—the way that they move on stage, and the costumes and the set, all these contribute to how we relay the meaning of the words to the audience.”
“I’ve no doubt that you do, Rudy,” said Cyril. “But one wonders how aware the audience is of the reasons they are affected by certain images, and sometimes I wonder if they know how much they are being manipulated.”
It took Annie a moment to realize who “Rudy” was. She’d never even heard Stella refer to the professor in such a casual way. The professor himself seemed to take offense at Cyril’s words. He made a huffing sound and said, “Perhaps that’s what you learned at the Royal Academy, but at Longfellow, we—”
Stella cut off the professor, “Now, gentlemen, I think this is a discussion for another time.”
“Of course, Mrs. Brickson,” said the professor. He took a deep breath and shot a look at Cyril that, while not angry, wasn’t exactly friendly either. Annie had the impression there was some history between them. She wondered if they had known each other before—perhaps back in the days when the professor was an actor too. Dolores reached up and patted her husband on the shoulder, in a way Annie had seen her mother do when she thought Annie’s father was getting a little too intense during a conversation.
Dolores tactfully changed the subject. “Annie, do you know what these letters represent?” She was pointing to the bottom corner under the scene of the reading woman.
“Besides the Roman numerals in the center, which represent the number 1966, not really,” said Annie. She began walking over toward the “Home Song” tapestry on the wall. “The letter panel on the large tapestry is almost like the letter panel on this small one, except this number is 1946.” As Annie explained that the small tapestry had been displayed in the same place since she was a child, she took it down from its place in the niche and laid it beside the reading-woman panel.
After studying it for a moment, Dolores asked, “So the ‘Home Song’ tapestry has been displayed in this house as long as you can remember, but you had never set eyes on the large tapestry before a couple of weeks ago?” She didn’t really expect an answer, so she continued. “It seems very odd that your grandmother kept it in the attic. Of course, there’s really no place here to hang something this large in a home, but why not donate it to a museum so it could be appreciated?”
“That’s one reason that makes me wonder about it,” said Annie. “She may have been asked to store it, so she might not have felt like it was hers to do with as she pleased.”
“Do you have any ideas about the ‘L.C.’ on each end?” asked Cyril.
“No,” Annie admitted. “I really don’t, and I’m not even sure where to start looking.”
“If you like, I can make some inquiries,” said Cyril. “Would you mind if I took a few photographs?”
“Not at all,” said Annie. “I’d appreciate any help I can get to discover the history behind this tapestry, and the smaller one as well.”
Cyril took his cellphone out of his pocket and began taking several pictures, having to take several consecutive shots to get it all in, and then he took close-ups of each scene as well.
“Now that we’ve got this all settled,” said the professor, “what else have you got to show us, Mrs. Dawson?”
9
When they had finished looking over all of the other props, Annie invited them all to stay for a cup of tea and a slice of pound cake, which Alice had baked and brought over that morning. They thanked her, but had to refuse since the Fortescues had an engagement that evening and had to get home. Annie was glad to have met Dolores and Cyril. She liked them, even if she had rankled Cyril a bit by saying that she wouldn’t consider selling the tapestry. Now she was really getting excited for rehearsals to begin so that she could see them in action on the stage.
The discussions about the play were only peripheral while they looked at the props, and no one had mentioned Jacob’s name. She had liked Jacob too. She couldn’t imagine what could have caused a falling out between the Fortescues and their son-in-law. For their sakes, and for Jacob’s daughter’s sake, she hoped it could be worked out.
Alice had to leave with the others so that she could return Felix and Stacy to Main Street where Felix had parked his car. Alice promised to return as soon as she could get away to help Annie put her house back together.
Only about half of the things the professor had seen for the set had gotten his approval, but he had liked the carpet and the trunk, so Annie was going to arrange for Wally to come by with his pickup truck on Monday to transport them to the Cultural Center. The smaller things, Alice and Annie decided to deliver themselves the following week. The tapestry would stay where it was in Annie’s house for the time being, at least until t
hey figured out how to display it properly. Then, when that was settled, Professor Howell suggested they bring the tapestry over the Cultural Center to store it in one of the empty offices on the fourth floor where he said it surely would be safe.
Annie decided to go ahead and return the tapestry to the upstairs bedroom so that she could release Boots from her confinement in the mudroom. The conversation with the Fortescues about the tapestry set her mind to working on the problem of learning who had made it and who it might belong to if it didn’t belong to her grandmother. The clues were slim—two years, 1946 and 1966, and “L.C.,” which were either someone’s initials, or some sort of abbreviation, or maybe both. She wondered how on earth she could ever figure it out.
As she leaned across the bed to arrange the muslin covering over the tapestry on the bed, she lifted one leg behind her to help maintain her balance and her foot bumped the edge of the closet door, causing it to slowly open with a creaky sound. She’d often had trouble with that particular doorknob staying latched, and she was a bit annoyed when she turned around to close it. Then something caught her eye. The upper shelve of the closet was filled with different-size boxes of letters that her grandmother had saved. Betsy Holden was a prolific letter writer, and she saved every letter she had ever received. Annie knew the boxes of letters were there, but as often happens—out of sight, out of mind. Now she thought to herself, I wonder …
It was a long shot, but what if there was something in one of the letters about the tapestry? There were a lot of letters, and it might take a long time to go through them, but where else did she have to start? Betsy had marked the boxes with the years in which the letters had been received in five-year increments. Annie got a chair to stand on and began looking for a box marked 1946–1950; she found it and set it down on the floor. Then she climbed back up on the chair and rummaged some more until she found another box marked 1966–1970. She took the two boxes and sat them on the floor in the hallway. Then she went back in the bedroom to close the closet door very gingerly, willing it to stay latched. When she thought she had it, she closed the door to the bedroom and carried one box down to the living room and set it in one corner.
The Tapestry in the Attic Page 8
