In the Company of Angels: Episode 3.1 – The Gallery
In the Company of Angels, Episode 3.1 – The Gallery
Jill walked down the sidewalk, noting the numbers on the buildings as she passed. It was the morning after Sam disappeared from her house. She had explained to her mother, quite truthfully, that Sam had left just after the howling had started outside. Her uncle Chris checked the yard, but by then the din had ceased and he could find no evidence of any intruders. So, the adults had all returned to the dining room and eaten dessert. About a half hour later, at Evie’s insistence, Jill had called Sam. He was back at home and was fine, but he did not offer any additional explanation other than to tell her the address of Mr. Luke’s studio.
That was where she was now headed.
When she reached the 200 block, she noticed that most of the buildings appeared to be industrial, with plenty of trucks pulling up to loading docks and lots of traffic coming and going. Number 220 was just ahead. It was a large three-story brick warehouse with a simple metal and mirrored-glass door in the front. A few windows, also mirrored, were visible on the second and third floors. The sign on the door matched Mr. Luke’s business card. It read:
Lucas Lester
Artist & Illustrator
Jill stepped up to the door and pressed the button on the intercom. For quite a while there was no answer, so she pressed it again. Then an odd but strangely sweet metallic voice finally spoke to her through the speaker.
“May I help you?”
“This is Jill Jonsson. I’m here to see Mr. Luke. Sam Deckard gave me this address.”
There was a long silence, and then she heard a loud buzz and a click as the lock on the door was released. “Come upstairs please,” said the metallic voice.
Jill opened the door and stepped inside. The entrance area was a small, unadorned room. A heavy plain metal door that apparently connected with the ground floor of the warehouse was just to the right, and a flight of stairs leading upward was to the left. Directly in front of her, the entire wall was mirrored, and she could see herself in the reflection. She climbed the two short flights of stairs to the upper floor and found herself standing before another mirrored-glass door, similar to the one on the street. She realized that this mirror must be the one-way type; through it she saw various splotches of light and some movement. She knocked, and a shadowy figure approached. The door swung wide and Luke Lester stood in the doorway, dressed now in coveralls that were spattered with every imaginable color of paint..
“Ah! Jane! It’s so good to of you to have come!”
“Uh…it’s Jill, Mr. Luke. Jill Jonsson.”
“Oh, yes, yes indeed. Silly me! I am so terrible with names! Please forgive me? May I take your coat?”
“Yes, thanks,” said Jill. She handed her coat to Mr. Luke, who took it and carefully hung it on a hanger, and then upon a very ornate cast iron coat rack by the door. Beside the coat rack was an umbrella stand fashioned of dark-glazed ceramic with golden dragons painted along the rim the floor was covered with some beautiful but faded oriental rugs. These were only by the door through which she had entered; the rest of the floor was hardwood, and, Jill noted, could definitely use a good sweeping.
But the room itself was less a room than an enormous platform, with carved wooden railings along three sides, and some sort of dark scaffolding barely visible beyond the rails, though what the scaffolding was, and what it held, Jill couldn’t see well enough to say. Whatever the structures were intended for, they appeared to reach not only to the floor below them, but all the way to the ceiling of what would have been the third floor of the warehouse.
Upon the platform itself, there were a few chairs and a large desk near the door, jumbles of standing suits of armor, weapons, racks of clothing, and dozens of easels set up randomly. Each of these held a painting, or in some cases several small paintings together. Many of the easels had coat racks next to them, on and around which were piled cloaks, or hats, or gloves, or boots, or other items that Jill didn’t recognized.
The wall behind her and parts of the platform were partitioned off by heavy purple curtains, and some of the spaces around the platform were surrounded by the curtains, Jill could see bright lights and easels with partially finished paintings within these enclosures. All of the windows that she had seen from the street below appeared to have been heavily curtained, and the only light in the warehouse came from flood lamps scattered throughout the platform. The effect of all of the jumble and clutter of the place reminded Jill, somehow, of a film studio filled with props for movie-making, and she could even imagine that the walls might be covered with thick velvet to absorb the outdoor sound.
For there was no sound within the warehouse; that is, other than the gentle humming of electric lighting. That wasn’t quite true though, Jill realized, because now and again she thought she heard fluttering coming from the dim spaces beyond the carved railings; she wondered whether birds had become lost within the building, or had perhaps found ways in and out of the warehouse and had made nests for themselves in the rafters.
All of these thoughts flooded through Jill’s mind as Mr. Luke fussed with her coat, but in reality only a few seconds had passed.
“There we are then. Welcome to my studio!” Mr. Luke said, sweeping his hand grandly toward the easels and artifacts before them. “What do you think of it?”
“Well…” said Jill. “I suppose I don’t really know what to think! I’ve never seen a place quite like this! But that’s not quite true, now that I think about it, because I did once see a live performance of a play at the Fox Theatre, and when we went backstage afterwards to meet some of the actors, I remember the prop rooms and makeup rooms and the storage areas. They reminded me of this, somehow.”
“Ah! Yes, I suppose there may well be some similarities. We do often find that we need props for the work we do here. But, what play was it that you saw? And who took you, your mother?”
“Well, it wasn’t a play really; it was an opera. It was Hansel and Gretel.” Jill paused for a moment and her voice became muted, “that was just before…before my father….”
“Oh, Jill! You’re here!” It was Sam. Jill had not heard him come in. She assumed that he must have been behind some of the curtains.
“Ah, Samuel! Yes, Jill has just arrived. Thank you for instructing her on how to find us!” said Mr. Luke.
Sam came up to Jill, grinning.
“Alright Sam, maybe now you can start to explain exactly what happened last night? And how you managed to get out of a bathroom that had no windows and no door other than the one I closed behind you?”
Sam looked up at Mr. Luke, who nodded.
“OK, look Jill, there’s a lot we’ll both need to explain to you, and it might be easier for all of us if we sat down and took it one step at a time. Before we start, would you like something to drink or to eat? Some tea maybe? This may take us a while….”
“Well, sure, that’s what I’m here for. And, yes, I’d love some tea.”
“Great, let’s sit here by the desk. Mr. Luke will look after the tea things.”
While Sam was talking, Mr. Luke had stepped toward the railings. Jill heard the fluttering again, but Mr. Luke returned a few moments later holding a tray with a tea kettle, cups, saucers, and a poppy seed cake. There were three small plates, napkins, a pitcher of cream, and a sugar bowl. In addition, there was a plate with what looked like slices of salmon, and steam was rising from the teapot. Jill recognized the combination; she had been to England with her mother just the previous year, and when they were there they had often dined on such fare at tea rooms in the Cotswalds.
“This is lovely!” she exclaimed. “I never would have expected such a nice welcome! Mr. Luke, this reminds me of an English tea. Have you ever been to England?”
Sam snickered involuntarily.
“Samuel! Be polite!” said Mr. Luke. “Jess here can’t possibly know about my upbringing! But, yes, Jess…”
“It’s Jill!”
“I’m sorry, yes Jill, I have spent quite a few years of my life in Europe, and in England in particular. I studied some years in Oxford, as well as in Rome. My mentor, Azarias, resides in London yet, and we are in constant contact. But, I’m so happy that you like the tea! Polly will be very pleased.”
“Polly?”
“She’s our…well…how would you describe Polly, Samuel?”
“Um, well, she’s not like anyone you’ve ever met; takes a bit of getting used to, that’s for sure…” said Sam.
“I meant her role in our…um…organization.”
“Oh, that! Yes, well, Jill, Polly is part housekeeper, part secretary, part computer, part filing system, and part hostess, all rolled up into one. We call her the Keeper; what she does most and best is to mind The Gallery.”
“The Gallery?” asked Jill. “Is that what you call your warehouse here, Mr. Luke?”
“Well, yes,” said Mr. Luke. “It is, partially, a warehouse, but it’s more a combination of studio, gallery, and library. We have several million paintings and sketches housed here, and these are maintained and organized in those shelves you can just see past the railings.”
“Several million?”
“Yes indeed! You’ll come to understand once we’ve explained. Samuel, would you bring out your sapphire?”
Sam stood up and drew from his pocket the very pendant and chain that Jill had found at her house the day before. He held it up to the light and Jill could see once more how beautiful the jewel was as it caught shards of light from the flood lamps around them.
“Samuel tells me that you found this when he left it at your house. Many thanks for returning it to him, by the way! You cannot know how dangerous it might have been if someone else had discovered it by mistake!”
“Dangerous?! What do you mean dangerous?! exclaimed Jill.
