NEW YORK CITY
MONDAY, AUGUST 23, 1926
Sorry,” Elsa whispered, though she knew full well the bird splayed on its back on the metal table was past feeling any pain. She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose, then reached for the scalpel. Having already stuffed the bird’s throat with cotton, she separated the feathers down the midline of the
breast. “Here we go.”
“Talking to yourself again?” Her colleague approached before she had a chance to make the first incision. “Or are you talking to a dead bird while you skin it? Which is rather worse, if you ask me.”
“No one asked you,” she teased.
He grinned. At the age of twenty-eight, Archer Hamlin was two years older than Elsa and yet retained his schoolboy charm. She had proved immune to it, however, which made their camaraderie easy and light. He worked in the Department of Preparation, painting dioramas for habitat displays, but found reasons enough to visit her fifth-floor office. “Admit it,” he said. “You’re so lonely back here you’ve gone batty.”
Batty? Never. Lonely? Maybe. Definitely.
“Lauren left for Egypt last week,” she told him.
“Your cousin and roommate, Lauren? Say, didn’t I dance with her once? As I recall, you refused me, and she stepped in to save me from embarrassment.”
“I refused you because I don’t dance,” Elsa reminded him with a tap to her leg. She still couldn’t decide if Archer’s oblivion to her limitation made him a terrible observer or a steadfast friend. “If she saved anyone from humiliation, it was me.”
Archer folded his arms and leaned a hip against the table, watching her work. “You have another roommate, though. Her name is Ivy, right? Are you looking for a third to help with rent? I know a guy. He’s looking to move out of his parents’ house. Very tidy, very clean, upstanding and respectful. He just hasn’t found the right real estate yet. He’s not bad to look at, either.”
Suppressing a smile, she shook her head. “You’re full of applesauce.” Not that she minded right now. Her work at the American Museum of Natural History was mostly done alone. Even before Lauren had taken leave from the Metropolitan Museum of Art for a six-month survey of ancient Egyptian art, Elsa had been lonely at work.
As a research assistant in the ornithology department, preparing bird skins was part of her job, and she was good at it. In fact, with her small hands and natural perfectionism, she performed the task better than anyone else in the department. That didn’t mean she loved doing it.
“If you’re here to rescue me from my isolation,” she told Archer, “at least step out of the light for the rest of the procedure.” He shuddered. “I’m not staying. I’ve just been consulting with
Chapman on a project. He said he wants to see you.”
“Now?” She was hoping to get the bird stuffed before leaving today.
He looked at his watch. “More or less.”
While Archer whistled along the corridor, Elsa covered the bird and her tray of tools and limped to the sink to wash her hands. Ignoring the ache in her leg, she made her way to her boss’s office.
“You wanted to see me?”
“Please have a seat, Miss Reisner.” Frank Chapman, head of the ornithology department, gestured to the chair across from his desk. The bookcase behind him held mounted birds from his many expeditions; stacks of Bird-Lore magazine, which he edited for the Audubon Society; and eighteen books and field guides he’d authored himself.
Elsa took the offered chair. “Can I help you with something?
Have more shipments arrived from the South Seas?”
Mr. Chapman’s mustache twitched in a brief smile. “You most certainly can help, but it’s nothing to do with the South Seas expedition. Do you recall patrons of this museum by the name of Van Tessel? Linus and Bernadette van Tessel?”
She did. Linus had passed away two years ago, and his widow, who went by the name of Birdie, was now seventy-five years old. “I spoke with Mrs. Van Tessel at the fundraiser last summer but haven’t seen her since.”
“I don’t think anyone has. She became something of a recluse after that. She recently passed away in her sleep at her estate near Tarrytown, about twenty-four miles north of here. Her execu- tor called me in to hear the reading of her will last Friday. Poor woman. Her husband had been a wealthy explorer in their earlier years together, but when he died, she was saddled with his debts. Turns out, no one had been managing his investments for years.” A pang of sadness pricked Elsa’s chest for Mrs. Van Tessel. She hadn’t known the widow well, but even in their brief interaction, it was clear she’d been a sweet soul, and warmer than Elsa’s own mother, at any rate. At least her death had been a peaceful one. “Linus van Tessel accrued an expansive collection of birds, and according to Mrs. Van Tessel’s will, we are welcome to it in its entirety, no strings attached,” Mr. Chapman went on. “But I’d rather not pack and ship everything here without knowing if we even want it all. I need someone to go examine the Hud- son Collection—named for the river which flows next to the estate—to see what condition the birds are in. Do we have use for them, either here or to loan to other museums or schools? For the birds to have any value to us, we need to know when and where the specimens were captured. I want them all cataloged properly before entering the museum.”
Crossing her ankles, Elsa adjusted the skirt of her drop-waist dress so the pleats ran straight over her knees. It sounded like a massive undertaking. “Are there field notes?”
“Supposedly. That’s what I need someone to find. Someone thorough, with meticulous attention to detail.”
“And that someone is me?”
He smiled. “None other. The will stipulates that the museums get first pick of any assets. So I imagine you’ll run into other local museum staff while you’re there.”
“So I won’t be alone.” She wouldn’t mind a change of scenery, and the Hudson River valley was a lovely place. But the idea of going through a dead couple’s dead birds on a dusty Gothic estate in the middle of nowhere seemed macabre. A bit of company would be welcome.
“Not at all. In fact, the relatives are allowed to go in and take whatever the museums don’t want. They’ve been asked to stay out of the way for a few days, except for a Mr. Guy Spalding. He’s the nephew who inherited the land and property. He’ll be your contact should you need anything there.” He stood, and she took the signal to do the same. “What are you working on now?” “A group of warblers arrived from some vacationers who wanted us to have them,” she reminded him. “I’m preparing the last of them today.”
“Very good. Finish that, then begin at the Van Tessels’ estate tomorrow. Elmhurst, they called it. Plan to spend two or three days a week there until the project is done, which I anticipate will take a couple of weeks or so. That’s the goal, anyway. I still need you reporting to your office here on the other days to keep up with your regular work. Besides, Spalding declared at the reading of the will that he would donate the entire estate to the county to avoid paying the taxes on his inheritance. He was keen to put that plan into motion immediately, but I don’t know when that hand-off is. Oh, and Miss Reisner, I’d advise wearing sensible shoes at Elmhurst.” He glanced at the Mary Jane heels she’d changed into after walking to work in flats. “You’ll have a lot of ground to cover, including plenty of stairs.”
“Yes, sir.” She would not point out that a good pair of shoes would only take her so far.
The Hudson Collection by Jocelyn Green, copyright protected Baker Publishing Group 2024
On Central Park
Historical Fiction with Mystery and Romance Set in 1920's New York City
Step into the beguiling world of 1926 New York and discover the power of resilience, friendship, and love from award-winning author Jocelyn Green.
Elsa Reisner's lifelong dream of working as an ornithologist at the American Museum of Natural History is fading as the job begins to drain her passion. But fate takes an unexpected turn when she is assigned to catalog the bequest of a recently deceased patron whose Gothic country mansion holds secrets and treasures waiting to be discovered.
As Elsa delves into her task, she forms an unlikely bond with the estate's delightful gardener and her daughter, as well as an architectural salvage dealer who still bears scars from the Great War. Together, they embark on a thrilling treasure hunt for a missing relic intended to safeguard the servants' futures before the estate is sold. At the same time, Elsa's body seems to betray her with new symptoms from a childhood disease that isn't through with her yet.
With the brooding veteran and her handsome colleague joining the search, Elsa must navigate the tangled web of secrets and hidden motives along with the changing state of her health. As her deadline looms ever closer, will she be able to secure a new life for her friends before the estate slips from their grasp?
Mystery Historical [Bethany House Publishers, On Sale: June 4, 2024, Paperback / e-Book, ISBN: 9780764239649 / eISBN: 9781493445196]
Jocelyn Green is the award-winning and bestselling author of numerous fiction and nonfiction books, including The Mark of the King, A Refuge Assured, and Between Two Shores. Her books have garnered starred reviews from Booklist and Publishers Weekly and have been honored with the Christy Award and the Golden Scroll. Jocelyn lives with her family in Cedar Falls, Iowa. Visit her at www.jocelyngreen.com.
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