good taste.
Verlaine stood, began packing his papers into a messenger bag he kept in the corner of his office,
and was about to call it a night when he stopped short. There was something uncanny about the letters.
He could detect no obvious pattern—in fact, they were almost purposely jumbled. But there was an
unaccountable recurrence of some very odd compliments Innocenta paid Mrs. Rockefeller. At the end
of several missives, Innocenta praised the other woman’s good taste. In the past, Verlaine had
skimmed these passages, believing them to be a trite way to bring the letters to a close. Taking the
letters from his bag, he reread them again, this time noting each of the many passages of artistic
praise.
The compliments revolved around the choice of Mrs. Rockefeller’s taste in a picture or design. In
one letter Innocenta had written, “Please know that the perfection of your artistic vision, and the
execution of your fancy, is well noted and accepted.” At the close of the second letter, Verlaine
read, “Our most admired friend, one cannot fail to marvel at your delicate renderings or receive
them with humble thanks and grateful understanding.” And yet another read, “As always, your
hand never fails to express what the eye most wishes to behold.”
Verlaine puzzled over these references for a moment. What was all this talk about artistic
renderings? Had there been pictures or a design included in Abigail Rockefeller’s letters to
Innocenta? Evangeline hadn’t mentioned finding anything accompanying the letter in the archives, but
Innocenta’s replies seemed to suggest that there was in fact something of that nature attached to her
patron’s half of the correspondence. If Abigail Rockefeller had included her own original drawings
and he discovered these drawings, his professional life would skyrocket. Verlaine’s excitement was
so great he could hardly think.
To fully understand Innocenta’s references, he would need to find the original letters. Evangeline
had one in her possession. Surely the others must be somewhere at St. Rose Convent, most likely
archived in their vault in the library. Verlaine wondered if it was possible that Evangeline had
discovered Abigail Rockefeller’s letter and had overlooked an enclosure, or perhaps had even
discovered an envelope with the letter. While Evangeline had promised to look for the other
missives, she had no reason to search for anything more. If only he had his car, he would drive back
to the convent and assist her in the search. Verlaine fumbled through his desk, looking for the
telephone number of St. Rose Convent. If Evangeline couldn’t find the letters in the convent, it was
more than likely that they would never be found. It would be a terrible loss for the history of art, not
to mention Verlaine’s career. He suddenly felt ashamed that he had been so afraid, and of his
reluctance to return to his apartment. He needed to pull himself together immediately and get back
upstate to St. Rose by whatever means possible.
Fourthfloor,St. Rose Convent, Milton, NewYork
Before the previous day, Evangeline had believed what she’d been told about her past. She trusted the
accounts she’d heard from her father and the sequence of events the sisters had told her. But
Gabriella’s letter had shattered her faith in the story line of her life. Now she distrusted everything.
Gathering her strength, she stepped into the immaculate, empty hallway, the envelopes tucked under
her arm. She felt weak and dizzy after reading her grandmother’s letters, as if she had just escaped
from the confines of a horrible dream. How had it been that she’d never fully understood the
importance of her mother’s work and, even more astonishing, her mother’s death? What more had her
grandmother meant to tell her? How could she possibly wait for the next two letters to understand it
all? Fighting the urge to run, Evangeline walked down the stone steps, making her way to the one
place she knew she might find the answer.
The Mission and Recruitment offices were in the southwestern corner of the convent in a
modernized series of suites with pale pink carpeting, multiple-line telephones, solid oak desks, and
metal filing cabinets containing all of the sisters’ personal files: birth certificates, medical records,
educational degrees, legal documents, and—for those who had departed this earth—certificates of
death. The Recruitment Center—combined with the Mistress of Novices’ Office due to the decline in
membership—occupied the left arm of the suite, while the Mission Office occupied the right.
Together they formed two open arms embracing the outside world to the bureaucratic heart of St.