The Family Business

“The Family Business”

The moment he’d first laid eyes on the house John knew it would be perfect for them. Having grown up in England he’d always loved the Italianate style homes along the coast and this one was a perfect example; two and a half stories with painted siding, shutters flanking tall, narrow windows, and his favorite feature, a low-pitched roof with a railed widow’s walk. As a boy he’d been told the widow’s walk was a place for a woman to sit and watch the sea, waiting for her husband’s ship to come into view and return safely from a voyage. Many of them never made it back.

Despite the nostalgic connection to his youth the main reason John liked the house was that it didn’t stand out from the other, similar homes on the street. It sat way back from the curb, nestled in a stand of oak and ash trees and anyone passing by would probably pay no attention to it. That was just the way he wanted it. When they’d toured it with the realtor he and Margot quietly talked about each room and how it would fit into their plans. They didn’t share much personal information with the realtor. When the tour was finished and they made a cash offer there wasn’t much left to be said anyway.

After living for twenty years in upstate New York, moving to Clayton, Georgia hadn’t been part of any kind of long-term strategy for them. But circumstances had arisen that made a quick relocation necessary. There were other places they’d thought of but each one had its own downside; too many people, too cosmopolitan, too far west. Neither of them had ever heard of Clayton until they did a Google search for small towns in the east that were reasonably close to a major airport. It was ninety-seven miles from the Atlanta airport and had a population just over two thousand. Clayton was about as close to invisible as a town could get and that was exactly why John and Margot had chosen it.

Sharon’s living room window looked out to the street and beyond it to the Italianate house nestled in the trees. It had been on the market for nearly a year and she’d seen only one potential buyer tour the house before she saw John and Margot that day. Sharon enjoyed sitting in her big, plush chair looking out at the neighbors and now her attention had been turned to the new ones across the street. She’d watched, sipping her morning coffee when the moving van pulled into the driveway. She’d held her cat in her lap and watched as the new owners pulled up to the curb and helped an elderly man from the car, then walked with him into the house. And late in the afternoon after the moving van had left she’d sipped a glass of whiskey and watched a young man in a rental van pull into the garage and wait for the door to close behind him. She’d have to wait until dark, when the lights in the house came on, before she’d learn anything more about her new neighbors.

The movers had done a thorough job of placing furniture, staging boxes and making it easier for John, Margot and their son, Jack, to finish up things. John’s father and patriarch of the family, William James Broadhead, sat in a rocking chair offering advice and directions that were mostly ignored. By the time the sun went down and the lights came on they’d all had enough and were ready to relax. While Margot pulled the drapes shut John brought a box from the kitchen and set it on the floor. A few minutes later the sideboard had been turned into a temporary bar.

Jack held up a bottle of whiskey and asked, “Papa Willie, the usual?”

The old man smiled and said what he always said, “Three fingers, neat.”

“Make it two,” John chimed in, “and your mother wants her Guinness.”

Jack set about pouring and serving the drinks and before he sat down he asked, “Dad, what about the stuff in the van?”

John let out a deep breath. “Oh, let’s just leave it there for now. It’s safe and out of sight. We’ll take it out in the morning and check it all against the list Nathan sent me.”

“Okay, but when he dropped me off at Heathrow he said to remind you we have to move it as soon as possible.”

“Yeah, I know. Fortunately this load is all small stuff, nothing too big or heavy, so it should be easy to transfer.”

Margot leaned forward in her chair. “I don’t get why Nathan is always so nervous.” She turned toward Jack. “Ever since we sent you over there to work full time things have gone totally to plan.”

“I know, Mom, but even though these items are small they’re worth a bundle and you know that Nathan is all about the money.”

Papa Willie cleared his throat and growled, “I gave that little shit his start in the business and he needs to just calm down and let us take care of things like we always do.”

Margot rolled her eyes at the comment, She stood up and said, “Jack, how about helping me hang that painting in the hallway.”

“I thought we had a buyer, are you keeping it for yourself?”

Margot smiled. “Yes, it’s a perk that comes with the job. I might as well take advantage of it while I can.”

As darkness fell, Sharon saw the light go on in the little rooftop room beside the widow’s walk. A moment later she saw the shadowy outline of an old man leaning on the railing, his cigar glowing against the dark sky. She watched the house for a while, keeping her own lamps turned off so she wouldn’t be seen sitting by her window. There was nothing more to see and she went to bed around midnight.

Her timid, long-distance effort to meet her new neighbors continued the next morning. She was tempted to just walk over and knock on the door but her strained relationship with the previous owners made her reluctant to move too quickly. They had made it very clear that they found her nosey and intrusive, so this time sitting and watching from her chair with her morning coffee seemed like the prudent course of action, or inaction. About ten o’clock the young man backed the rental van out and drove down the street. That was it. For the rest of the day there was no sighting of the new owners and the van never returned. The drapes had remained closed.

Late that afternoon as Papa Willie poured his three fingers of whiskey with no ice, he asked, “Have either of you noticed the woman across the street, the one who’s been watching us since yesterday?”

John answered, “No, I’ve been too busy to do any neighbor-watching.”

Margot walked to the living room window and carefully pulled open the drapes, just enough of a crack to see across the street. “You’re right. There she is, just sitting there.”

“Relax,” John sighed, “It’s totally normal for people to be curious about newcomers.”

“She was watching me last night,” Willie added, “Up on the roof. I hope she isn’t watching every time I go out there for a god damned cigar.”

Ever the voice of reason John said, “Let’s not get jumpy here. There’s no reason to think she’s anything but a nosy old lady. The only people who have this address are the ones we gave it to.”

Margot closed the drapes. “Sooner or later we’ll meet her so let’s all just not worry about her if and until we have a reason to.”

“I agree. None of us wants a repeat of what happened in New York. Let’s just be careful and keep our eyes and ears open.”

Willie stood up and headed for the stairs but Margot stopped him. “Hang on a minute, Papa, it’s almost four o’clock and Jack’s going to give us an update and you should be in on it.” By the time the phone rang the three of them had drinks in hand and were ready to get back to the family business.

“Hi, Jack,” John said, “We have you on speaker. How was your flight? How are things going?”

“Hi, everyone. My flight was fine, pretty foggy when we landed at Heathrow but otherwise routine. I’m heading to Paris tomorrow morning and then on to Dresden.”

John leaned closer to the phone. “Okay, I’ve got Nathan’s latest list here. What are you working on?”

“The Paris trip will be to look over some pieces at Musee Marmottan. Nathan has his eye on a couple of Monet lithographs. They’re from his Post Impressionist period and Nathan has a buyer.”

Willie shook his head. “Remember the rule; Jack: Obscure is safer than famous.”

“I remember and don’t worry. It’s a really nice little litho and it’s pretty much unknown. There’s no record that it was ever published anywhere so we get the Monet name value without anyone recognizing it.”

Margot asked, “Good thinking. What’s in Dresden?”

“Mom, I think it’s a piece you’d really like, a small Durer bronze of a horse and rider.”

“How small?” John asked.

“Less than five pounds, very portable.

Willie asked, “A Durer, another big name. How safe do you and Nathan think it is?”

“It’s a piece that the museum got back after it was stolen during the war. It hasn’t been on public display for nearly ten years so again, not familiar to most people or the authorities.”

John paused for a moment then said, “Okay, it all sounds workable. Anything else?”

“Yeah, just one thing. The Rossetti painting left London today around noon. You should have it on Friday.”

“Okay, we’ll be watching for it and I’ll contact the buyer. Be careful and keep in touch. Call me on the dark phone if you need anything.”

“Thanks, Dad, hope the new house is working out okay. Talk to you soon.”

Sharon couldn’t imagine why, after almost a week of watching out her window there had been almost no sign of activity from the neighbors. There was no name on the mailbox. There were no visitors, no one leaving for work and the drapes had never been opened. One day a man left in a car and an hour later returned and pulled into the left side of the garage. The old man’s nightly cigar on the widow walk was the only activity she’d seen. Then late on Friday afternoon, when she’d sat down with her daily glass of whiskey, she watched the garage door open and a rental van pull in beside the owner’s car. As usual the door closed before she could get a look at the driver. It stayed in the garage until it was dark out and then backed out and drove off. It seemed suspicious to her, but then so did a lot of other things about the people in that house.

Margot was peeking out through the tiny opening in the drapes. “She’s still sitting there, watching. I’m sure she must have seen the van come and go.”

She stepped back from the window and let John have a look. “Then she probably saw me too when I went to get groceries. Big deal, she saw two vehicles come and go and nothing else.” He turned toward Margot and said with a sigh, “She just might be something we’ll have to deal with living here.”

It was obvious that Margot didn’t like what he’d said. “John, we have too much on the line now. We got spooked and left the house in Binghamton and I’m not going to let it happen here. We’re so close to being able to quit all this and turn it over to Jack. I want a normal life.”

Willie walked over and said, “Let me have a look at her.” John stepped aside as Willie pulled the drapes wide open and stood there, defiantly staring back at Sharon. “Come on, lady, take a good look.”

John’s eyes widened. “Dad, what the hell?

“Big deal, so she can see me. So what? Now she knows we’re on to her and we know she’s watching, but she’s got nothing.” He stood there almost as if he was posing and he saw Sharon stand up and walk to her window. He was quiet for a moment and then said, “You know, she’s kind of good looking.”

Standing there in the window Sharon had felt so exposed. The new neighbors had seen her watching them and she’d wondered if they were angry or just as curious about her as she was about them. She’d stepped back, turned off the lamp and stood out of view. She knew she had a problem. She’d always had an unusually strong interest in the lives of other people and it had only gotten worse since her husband had died. She was desperate for something to do. She was alone with too much time on her hands. But all of that didn’t change the fact that these neighbors weren’t like other people.

Willie’s brief look at Sharon had made him curious enough to lean on the railing and watch her house while he enjoyed his evening cigar and another glass of whiskey. The light in her window was off so he couldn’t tell if she was watching him back. He thought back to how nice she’d looked in her white slacks and blue and white flowered blouse. He wondered how old she was and how she’d come to being alone.

For the next few weeks, every time a van had pulled into the garage and then left after dark, John and Margot had wondered if the woman across the street was watching. They’d been talking to Jack almost daily, getting updates on his activities and about what he was sending their way. They’d had numerous conversations with customers about payments and deliveries. Papa Willie was proud of the way Jack had immersed himself in the family business. They were busier than they’d been in a long time so when the doorbell rang it was particularly jarring.

Margot opened the door slowly, not really surprised when she saw the visitor. “Hello, I’m Sharon Katzenbaugh, your neighbor across the street.”

Margot was speechless for a moment, trying to figure out how to respond. Finally she said, “Hello, I’m Margot Broadhead.” She stood silently, sizing up her neighbor and wondering what prompted the visit

John walked in from the kitchen and before he could say anything Margot opened the door wider and said, “This is my husband, John.” After a moment of uncomfortable silence she added, “Please, come in.”

All three of them were nervous and it showed. Sharon glanced in every direction, taking in the view of so many interesting objects. That made Margot more than a little uneasy. John’s nervousness was mixed with curiosity about the reason for her surprise visit. Finally Sharon said, “I’m sorry, I wanted to stop by and welcome you right after you moved in but I figured you were busy settling in.”

Margot looked at John then back at Sharon. “Yes, it’s been very hectic around here.”

Sharon continued her not so subtle look around the room. “You have some lovely things.”

John nodded. “Thank you. We’re in the, uh, antique business.”

They were interrupted when Willie came hurrying into the room, moving faster than he had in a long time. “Hello there. I’m William, call me Willie.” He stared at her with a nervous smile on his face.”

“Dad,” John said, this is Sharon Katzenbaugh, our new neighbor.”

Willie’s nervous smile never faded. “Yeah, I’ve seen you over there a time or two.”

Trying to hold up her end of the conversation Sharon nodded toward a large framed print near the staircase. “Isn’t that a Samuel Alken aquatint?” She walked over to it and looked at it closely. Her familiarity with the piece sent a shiver down Margot’s back.

Willie answered, “Yep, it’s an Alken. You’ve got a good eye.”

Sharon smiled. “Well, I taught Art History at Emory University for over twenty years. Did you know Alken got his start as a sculptor before he got into engraving?”

Nothing she said did anything but add to Margot’s uneasy feeling. The last thing they needed was a visitor who knew so much about art. She answered, “No, I didn’t know that.”

Willie’s smile broadened and there was a twinkle in his eyes. “That’s right, and he practically invented the aquatint process.” He paused as he looked at Sharon. “I’ve spent a few years in the art world myself.”

John’s eyes widened and he said, “Dad, maybe Sharon wants to talk about something besides art.”

“Oh no, it’s fine,” she said, smiling back at Willie. “I’ve been away from galleries and the art world ever since my husband died and I really miss it.” She thought to herself that she hadn’t felt so alive in years.

It was a situation that neither John nor Margot had ever expected to be in. In all their years in the business they’d never had an art expert so close to their operation and their collection. Now a woman they’d just met was standing right in the middle of it. They were close to turning things over to Jack, although Willie planned to stay with it until the day he died.

Willie’s voice broke into their thoughts. “Sharon, it’s a little early but every day around this time I treat myself to a drink. Would you care to join me?”

Sharon smiled and said, “Sure, I like a whiskey, three fingers, neat.”

Willie looked at John and Margot, then at Sharon. “You know, we could use an extra hand around here.”