*
That night, Derek and I enjoyed a quiet dinner outside on the deck with grilled steaks, baked potatoes, and a salad, my favorite meal. Sweet Maggie lounged contentedly at our feet under the table, but we kept Charlie inside the house because I was afraid she’d be the perfect snack for the red hawks that flew over the hills.
I told Derek how Mom and I had dropped in on Trudy, and I described the kitten sculpture I’d seen. “It looks so lifelike, I expected it to start prancing around like Charlie would, frisky and adorable. And it’s beautifully sculpted. It may not be a Rodin, but I imagine it’s worth a lot of money.”
“I’m sorry to say I didn’t even notice it the first time we were there,” he said. “I’d like to see it.”
“I didn’t see it that first time, either, probably because her house is jammed with so many baubles and goodies.” I gazed at him for a second, then smacked my forehead. “I can’t believe I forgot I took a picture.”
He chuckled as I jumped up, grabbed my phone, and scanned the photograph. “Here it is. The lighting’s not that great, but I think you can get the general idea.”
He studied the photograph and slid his fingers across the screen to enlarge it several times. “I’d like to see it in person, but your photo-taking skill is not bad.”
“Thank you, considering I took it while Amelia was glaring at me from her kitchen hideout.”
He glanced up at me. “Why?”
“She’s just weird.” I set the phone aside and continued eating dinner. “By the way, I talked to Gabriel about installing a security system at Trudy’s house. I’m concerned about Henri’s threats.”
“She doesn’t have an alarm on her house?”
“No, and after looking around again today, I’ll bet some of her so-called tchotchkes are more valuable than she realizes. Many of them are old family heirlooms, so she might not have any idea what they originally cost.”
He chewed a mouthful of steak as he considered that. “I was thinking that very thing when we were there the other day. But I didn’t know her home wasn’t hooked into the Dharma grid.”
I paused with my fork in midair. “What exactly is the Dharma grid?”
“Robson asked Gabriel to set up a wide-area security system to protect anyone in the commune who felt that their property might be vulnerable. It also covers Robson’s home, of course, and the winery, the school, the art museum, and a number of the shops and restaurants on the Lane.”
I frowned. “Is this a result of that ugly incident that happened last year?”
He hesitated, but then confessed, “Yes.”
“So it’s all my fault.”
“No, it’s not.” Derek grabbed hold of my forearm and gently squeezed for reassurance. “It’s the fault of those friendly neighbors who turned out to be murdering psychopaths.”
“I suppose.” I set my fork down. “But I’m the one who brought them into our world.”
“I refuse to let you beat yourself up over this,” he said firmly. “It was time to raise the level of security around here anyway. The times are changing.”
“You can say that again,” I muttered. “Gabriel’s probably got drones flying by, watching all of us.”
“Yes, he does, love.” He pointed to the sky. “Be sure to smile.”
“Very funny.” But the joke did improve my attitude. So did a sip of the full-bodied cabernet we were drinking. After savoring it for a moment, I returned to my baked potato. But then I remembered something else. “Trudy was going through some old letters of her mother’s, and I took one of them with me. I want to try to track down the papermaker, but it would be fun if you could translate the contents.”
“I can try,” he said between bites. “Couldn’t Trudy translate it for you?”
“No. She thinks it’s some hybrid of schoolgirl medieval French and Latin or something. It was a letter from her aunt to her mother, and they probably wanted to keep the contents a secret.”
He smiled. “I’m intrigued. Let me give it a whirl after dinner.”
Once we were finished with dinner and dessert—homemade gelato from my sister Savannah’s restaurant—I washed the dishes, and Derek put them away. Then I found Trudy’s letter and showed it to him.
“The paper’s beautiful, isn’t it?” I said.
“Yes. Unusually thick. It almost has a satin finish, which seems odd to me because it’s so old.”
I nodded. “Some old vellum appears satiny to the look and to the touch.”
He turned it over a few times, studying it.
“As I said, I’m mainly interested in the paper, but I really hope you can read this language. It would be fun to give Trudy the translation.”