Page 51 of The Christmas Spirits on Tradd Street
I looked down at Anthony, surprised to find his demeanor more of anticipation than of apprehension. “Did you try to touch her?”
“Amateurs,” I said under my breath. Jayne elbowed me, giving me a look of reproach.
Louder, so Anthony could hear, Jayne explained, “Usually, any sort of physical interaction will make them go away. Eventually, so will ignoring them—which is what Melanie likes to do—but that takes longer.”
Dark brown eyes stared at me from the portrait as I crossed the foyer, and I tried to convince myself that it was the artist’s talent that caused the effect. I climbed the stairs, stopping in front of the painting. I let myhands fall to my sides as I examined the woman in the green dress, her creamy skin contrasting sharply with her dark hair, the delicate nose set in a slim face defined by high cheekbones and sharp angles.
But her mouth couldn’t be described adequately. Rosy pink lips were half-open, as if she’d just finished speaking, the corners of her mouth turned up in aMona Lisasmile. With those lips, coupled with her mesmerizing eyes, she wouldn’t have surprised me if she had stepped down from the frame and continued down the stairs. I probably would have been less surprised than the average person, but still.
“It’s the woman in Yvonne’s book,” Jack said. “It was a black-and-white copy, but it’s definitely the same portrait. And am I the only one who sees the resemblance to Mellie?”
“Not at all,” I said, flattered but not convinced. Even from the confines of a portrait, it was clear that the beauty, elegance, and poise this woman possessed were inborn. If I had any of those qualities, it could only have been accidental and only on my best days.
“No, he’s right,” Jayne said as she moved to the bottom of the stairs. “It’s not so much a physical resemblance per se—although you both have those awesome cheekbones, and there’s something to the shape of the eyes. It’s more your expression. I see it on your face a lot—that look that says you don’t have a clue as to what you’re supposed to do next, but you’re going to pretend that you do.”
I frowned down at my sister, wanting to ask her when she’d become such an expert on human behavior, but stopped when I realized that she might not be too far from the truth.
“You might be right, Jayne,” Jack said, looking past me at the portrait so he didn’t see my annoyance. “And Yvonne was right, too. Eliza was pretty hot.”
I gave him the look I gave to other Realtors who insisted their poaching of a client was accidental. “Really, Jack? Is that how you’d want men to refer to your daughters?”
He cleared his throat. “I meant to say Eliza was a remarkably beautiful woman. Just like you. Probably intelligent, too.”
We all turned to look at the portrait together, my eyes drawn to herneck and its lack of jewelry. And the absence of a red welt marring the perfect skin.
“That’s definitely her?” Jayne asked, coming up the stairs to stand behind me. “The woman you saw on the stairs at home?”
The sound of Anthony’s crutches crossing the marble floor echoed in the large space. “It was her ghost you saw?”
I met Jayne’s eyes briefly before turning to look at Anthony. “Yes. I’m pretty sure it was her. She looked just like she does in this portrait. Except...” I paused, wondering what was different besides the missing ligature marks. My gaze traveled to the peacock brooch, the four multihued gems catching the light from an unseen source.
“Except?” Anthony prompted.
I frowned at the portrait. “I’m not sure. I saw her for such a brief moment that it’s hard to recall. But I do remember her eyes. At first they were angry. And then, right before she disappeared, they seemed so... sad.”
My eyes dropped to the brooch, and I had a sudden recollection of how I’d felt that she’d wanted me to notice it. To pay attention to it. “There’s something about the brooch, I think. Something she wants us to notice.”
Jack leaned closer, his eyes narrowing as he studied a thin gold chain that was wrapped around the ribbon and her dark curls, then turned his gaze to the brooch. “Maybe it’s the light the artist wanted to paint in, but it doesn’t look like the metal in the brooch is gold, does it? The color is off—and definitely different than the gold chain in her hair.”
“It looks almost orange,” I agreed. “Not gold at all. And it’s uniform throughout, with the same orangey color, so it doesn’t appear to have been altered by whatever reflected light the artist might have seen and wanted to replicate.”
“It looks like copper,” Jayne and Anthony said together.
They looked at each other and Jayne smiled. “Jinx.”
Anthony grinned back and I resisted the urge to roll my eyes at the cuteness of it. But my loyalty to Detective Riley held me back.
“Assuming those are real stones,” Jack said, “I can’t imagine whythey’d use a less expensive metal than gold. Copper is a base metal, not a precious metal. It could be pinchbeck.”
“Pinchbeck?” I asked, hoping I wasn’t the only uninformed person in the room.
“It means a cheap imitation,” Jack explained. “It’s a mixture of copper and zinc and was originally used in costume jewelry and watchmaking. It’s supposed to look like gold, but when you hold them up together, you can usually tell which is the real McCoy.”
“Eliza wasn’t a daughter of the family,” Jayne said. “She was Mrs. Vanderhorst’s ward. So maybe those are semiprecious stones set in pinchbeck.”
“Then why is her portrait in such a prominent location?” Anthony asked. “If she wasn’t considered a member of the family, I mean. From what I understand, nothing’s been moved or changed since the Vanderhorsts owned the house, so these portraits have been here for a couple of centuries.”
“Well, she was engaged to be married to Lawrence Vanderhorst, so she was soon to be a member of the family.” Jack’s gaze spanned the staircase wall. “It doesn’t look like his portrait is here. The rest of the male portraits are from different eras.” He climbed a few steps higher, stopping in front of two smaller oval portraits in gold frames. “Look at this. There’s a whole story here—two men about the same age wearing Civil War uniforms. One is navy blue and the other gray—probably brother against brother. It’s like the Vanderhorsts exist to give me book plots.”
