Out Of Hounds

CHAPTER 23

March 2, 2020 Monday

“Pretty terrific.” Sister craned her neck to look up at St. Paul, the golden weather vane on top of the stables. “Thought putting the horse weather vane on top of the big hay shed nice, too. Let’s take a picture and run in to the 1780 House. I need to pick up some odds and ends at Foods of All Nations. If we stay here we’ll wind up doing more chores.”

Gray put his arm around her shoulders. “Every now and then it’s a great idea to escape chores. And it’s a sunny day. That’s a surprise.”

Sister admired the beautiful weather vane, close to two hundred years old. “I seem to recall a conversation in the library where you questioned my impulsiveness, my discipline when it came to beautiful objects.”

He put his arm around her waist. “Well, now, not exactly. All I did was remind you of your desire to buy the Louis XV desk.”

“It really was lust and a kind of reckoning because of Uncle Arnold’s stolen desk but I didn’t buy it.”

“No,” he dragged out. “No.”

“Oh, Gray, sometimes one can’t be but so practical, and apart from horses I’m fairly reasonable. Although I must say Carter Nicewonder is forever pushing antique jewelry under my nose. Haven’t bought any pieces but I do notice, my angel, that if there is a tool you need, you buy it.”

He quickly said, “Sam and I are rebuilding the house.”

She put her arm around his waist now, too, and squeezed him. No point questioning tools even if they cost thousands of dollars. A good compressor can set you back.

“I did jump at St. Paul.” He sounded almost confessional.

“Baby, I’m glad you did. St. Paul brings back a wonderful memory of your mother and that silly rooster. Graziella and St. Paul, what a combination. I remember your mother well. Apart from her stunning beauty, which, of course, Aunt Daniella also has, your mother was quiet and kind, very kind, even when people were not kind to her. And those who should have been slapped usually wanted to go to bed with her.”

“After our dad died, Sam and I became protective of Mom. If she could see this fellow up there now she would laugh.” He took a breath. “It’s a funny thing but when you paid for half of the rooster, I can’t explain it, I could relax.”

“You don’t have to explain it. Gray, we’re in it together. Not that we see everything eye to eye. You’re a high-powered CPA and I’m still a geologist whether I’m teaching or not. I’m much more drawn to the natural world than that of people. But even if I do something not particularly fiscally prudent, I try to listen to you.”

He kissed her cheek. “I didn’t fall in love with you because you’re prudent. I fell in love with you because you have a big heart and you let me be me. I never had to prove anything to you. Well, maybe I had to take some big fences early on that I might have gone around, but you’re the only woman close to me who accepted me as I am. I don’t know, honey, my experience is women try to change men.”

They walked out to the car continuing the discussion.

“They try to change women, too. But I know exactly what you mean, which is why I am glad St. Paul is looking down at us. He’s helping us talk about the important things and maybe, maybe, your mother is looking down, too.”

Pulling into the parking lot of the 1780 House, Gray noted, “Yvonne. Those two are becoming good friends, and isn’t that Carter’s car?”

“Every year that man buys a new car or SUV. The antique jewelry business is good, or his is, anyway.”

They walked into the door to a rapturous greeting from Abdul and Ribbon. Aunt Daniella was also there. The people, not as rapturous as the Welsh terrier and the Norfolk terrier, were nonetheless glad to see them.

“Kathleen, what are you all studying?” Sister asked as a stack of nine-by-eleven papers rested on the coffee table and everyone was looking at one, passing it around.

“Michael Lyne’s work at the various auction houses.” Carter glanced up as the two pulled up chairs.

“Can I get you all anything to drink?” Kathleen offered.

“No.” Sister took up a sheet of paper with four colored representations just about one and a quarter inches by one and an eighth, small but clear. “I quite like him.”

“Some of the studies, the line drawings, are offered at two hundred to four hundred dollars. The larger works, so many in watercolor, are priced at three thousand to eight thousand.” Kathleen handed a sheet to Gray.

“Are you thinking of offering his work?” Sister was very curious.

“No, but Harry has two here. I like this work and Lionel Edwards’s work, too. Watercolors are affordable, but I’m not an art dealer.”

“Maybe not, but you have a good eye,” Carter complimented her. “Which reminds me, Buddy Cadwalder bought the entire contents of a townhouse at Rittenhouse Square in Philadelphia. There are still townhouses despite the high-rises.”

“He’s in the right market,” Aunt Daniella commented, as she knew Philadelphia from her youth. “Well, Carter, is he prudent? I mean, according to the papers the young people have no interest in exquisite furniture.”

Carter smiled. “Aunt Dan, there’s so much money in Philadelphia and the Main Line, he’ll always make money. Those people in their forties and fifties will snatch it up. But an entire townhouse!”

“Well, we came here to show you St. Paul.” Gray handed Kathleen his phone. “We thought you might be able to use the image.”

“St. Paul? Graziella’s rooster?” Aunt Danielle loved to watch that silly rooster strut behind her sister, who would pick him up and the damn bird would coo.

“In honor of St. Paul.” Gray smiled. “When Kathleen had her grand opening he was on the table. I couldn’t help it. I thought of Mother, so Sister and I bought it and see…” Kathleen handed Aunt Daniella the phone. “Perfect. Wouldn’t Mother love it?”

“She would.” Aunt Daniella handed the phone to Yvonne, who smiled as she handed it to Carter.

“A most impressive rooster. I’ve always wondered why the rooster is the symbol of France. Usually nations use eagles or lions or bears. Why a rooster?” Yvonne wondered.

“That’s a good question.” Carter rubbed his forehead for a moment.

“Gallus is cock in Latin and the rooster is a symbol of bravery, regeneration. I vote for that,” Sister said. “This is when we realize how young we are as a nation. Most of Europe was ruled at one time or another by the Romans. Anyone who wanted to succeed learned Latin as well as their ways.”

Aunt Daniella added, “Anyone here who wanted to get ahead learned Latin. Started in ninth grade at our little school, and segregated though it might be, we had such good teachers. I think if the teacher is good, the students learn because they like the teacher. I deeply mistrust sitting children in front of computers.”

“At Custis Hall Tootie needed a computer, as did all the other students, but this wasn’t to supplant teachers. But you are right, Aunt Dan. A teacher can inspire a student. A computer won’t inspire anyone,” Yvonne replied.

“Kathleen, if I come across any drawings, all reasonably priced, of foxhunting scenes or dogs, would you like me to put those people in touch with you? You’d be surprised what you see when you buy old family jewelry,” Carter suggested.

“Well, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt. I don’t want to represent myself as anyone who knows sporting art, but prints or watercolors on the walls are in keeping with the items in the store. And I can learn. I’ll enjoy learning.”

“If I see anything, what is your limit?” Carter got right to business.

“I think I had better stick to drawings, maybe a small watercolor. Mmm, a hundred fifty to two-fifty. I know the figures on what we are looking at are a bit higher but they are already retail prices or parameters for auction bids.” Kathleen looked at Sister.

“So you would double your price?”

“Most times, but one can always negotiate. The important thing is to get people in the store. I’m not an art dealer, but if I please someone and the price is right, they’ll be back.”

“Now, there’s a retail mind.” Carter laughed then turned to Sister. “Are we going to the joint meet? Last hunt you mentioned it in passing. The season is about over.”

“Our season ends March 14. Jane Winegardner, O.J., suggested all the other hunts come for the March 14 weekend. We’ll get two hunts off. She said there would be a big Andre Pater exhibit at the Headley-Whitney Museum.”

“Yes, I’ve been reading about that. Ought to be something a little different. Old Frankfort Pike in Lexington is lovely. Big farms, big money.” Carter glowed with the thought.

Yvonne inclined her head. “You must know where all the money is?”

“Not really. Harry, Kathleen’s late husband, had contacts to the old families in Virginia, old furniture. Well, it’s the same for antique jewelry. The money splashed around starting mid-nineteenth century. A wife became a man’s advertisement, if you will. Most of my contacts are east of the Mississippi just as most of Buddy’s are east of the Mississippi and north of the Mason-Dixon line. Lexington bursts with treasures.” He smiled slyly. “And remember, George Headley was a jewelry designer. Not what one would expect from the scion of a great family, but he was both creative and rebellious. I will never get any of his pieces, that I know. But I do okay.”

“Indeed you do.” Aunt Daniella smiled her seraphic smile.

“Aunt Daniella, you honor me. You all may not remember, but in 1994 the museum was robbed of much of Headley’s creations, to the tune of $1.6 million. Took them five years to nail the thieves, a gang in Ohio. Much of the jewelry was broken up, melted down, and sold. That was the end of that.”

“I would expect the Munnings stolen from Mrs. Buckingham, that one painting, would exceed the value of the jewelry?” Gray asked.

Kathleen shuddered. “Can you imagine owning a piece of art worth that much? However would you protect it?”

Abdul chipped up, “I’d let her know if anyone was around.”

Ribbon, eyes bright, replied, “You have to bite them. Really hard bites.”

Yvonne stroked her Norfolk terrier, not knowing the conversation.

“It seems to be the problem. Crawford spent a huge sum on his security, not that I ever asked, but he must have.” Carter held his hands palm upward.

Yvonne turned to Aunt Daniella. “Let’s go to Lexington. You, too, Kathleen, we could use a road trip.”

“Sounds good to me.” Aunt Daniella grinned, ever ready for adventure.

The door opened and a man, maybe in his early forties, walked in, holding some flyers in his hand. He looked at the gathering.

Kathleen stood up. “Can I help you? I’m Kathleen Dunbar, owner of 1780 House.”

“I’d like to leave you some flyers. I’m running for county commissioner.” He reached out to shake her hand, which she took. “Jordan Standish.”

No one said a word as Kathleen took the flyers. “You’re the one putting posters on telephone poles. You’re against foxhunting.”

“A cruel sport for rich people. Elitist. If you read my materials you’ll see I’m for free college, healthcare, representation, and mandatory birth control in insurance.”

Gray, looking at him, said, “You would prefer people play football?”

“Well, no, but foxhunting is wrong. If you look at my positions, you’ll see I am for income redistribution.”

Kathleen read his list. Some things she agreed with, some she didn’t.

Aunt Daniella read aloud, pausing when she reached…“Reparations. How interesting.”

“Well, I’ve got many places to visit but I invite you to any of my campaign meetings.” He turned and left.

When the door closed, Aunt Daniella purred, “I just love it when white boys talk about reparations.”