The job proved quiet, categorical, and regular, qualities that suited Evangeline. At twenty-three,
she was content to believe that her appearance and character were fixed—she had large green eyes,
dark hair, pale skin, and a contemplative demeanor. After professing her final vows, she had chosen
to dress in plain dark clothing, a uniform she would keep the rest of her life. She wore no adornments
at all except for a gold pendant, a tiny lyre that had belonged to her mother. Although the pendant was
beautiful, the antique lyre finely wrought gold, for Evangeline its value remained purely emotional.
She had inherited it upon her mother’s death. Her grandmother, Gabriella Lévi-Franche Valko, had
brought the necklace to Evangeline at the funeral. Taking Evangeline to a bénitier, Gabriella had
cleaned the pendant with holy water, fastened the necklace around Evangeline’s throat. Evangeline
saw that an identical lyre glimmered at Gabriella’s neck. “Promise me you will wear it at all times,
day and night, just as Angela wore it,” Gabriella had said. Her grandmother pronounced Evangeline’s
mother’s name with a lilting accent, swallowing the first syllable and emphasizing the second:
An- gel-a. She preferred her grandmother’s pronunciation to all others and, as a girl, had learned to
imitate it perfectly. Like Evangeline’s parents, Gabriella had become little more than a powerful
memory. The pendant, however, felt substantial against her skin, a solid connection to her mother and
grandmother.
Evangeline sighed and arranged the day’s mail before her. The time had arrived to get down to
work. Choosing a letter, she sliced the envelope with the silver blade of her letter opener, tapped the
folded paper onto the table, and read it. She knew instantly that this was not the sort of letter she
usually opened. It did not begin, as most of the regular convent correspondences did, by
complimenting the sisters on their two hundred years of perpetual adoration, or their numerous works
of charity, or their dedication to the spirit of world peace. Nor did the letter include a charitable
donation or the promise of remembrance in a will. The letter began abruptly with a request:
Dear St. Rose Convent Representative,
In the process of conducting research for a private client, it has come to my attention that Mrs.
Abigail Aldrich Rockefeller, matriarch of the Rockefeller family and patron of the arts, may have
briefly corresponded with the abbess of St. Rose Convent, Mother Innocenta, in the years 1943—
1944, four years before Mrs. Rockefeller’s death. I have recently come upon a series of letters from
Mother Innocenta that suggests a relationship between the two women. As I can find no references to
the acquaintance in any scholarly work about the Rockefeller family, I am writing to inquire if Mother
Innocenta’s papers were archived. If so, I would like to request that I might be allowed to visit St.
Rose Convent to view them. I can assure you that I will be considerate of your time and that my client
is willing to cover all expenses. Thank you in advance for your assistance in this matter.
Yours,
V A. Verlaine
Evangeline read the letter twice and, instead of filing it away in the usual manner, walked directly
to Sister Philomena’s office, took a leaf of stationery from a stack upon her desk, rolled it onto the
barrel of the typewriter, and, with more than the usual vigor, typed:
Dear Mr. Verlaine,
While St. Rose Convent has great respect for historical research endeavors, it is our present policy
to refuse access to our archives or our collection of angelic images for private research or
publication purposes. Please accept our most sincere apologies.
Many Blessings,
Evangeline Angelina Cacciatore,
FSPA
Evangeline signed her name across the bottom of the missive, stamped the letter with the official
FSPA seal, and folded it into an envelope. After typing out the New York City address on an
envelope, she affixed a stamp and placed the letter on a stack of outgoing mail balanced at the edge of
a polished table, waiting for Evangeline to take it to the post office in New Paltz.
The response might be perceived by some as severe, but Sister Philomena had specifically
instructed Evangeline to deny all access to the archives to amateur researchers, the number of which
seemed to be growing in recent years with the New Age craze for guardian angels and the like. In
fact, Evangeline had denied access to a tour bus of women and men from such a group only six months
before. She didn’t like to discriminate against visitors, but there was a certain pride the sisters took in
their angels, and they did not appreciate the light cast upon their serious mission by amateurs with
crystals and tarot decks.