Family Jewels

July 1, 2000 Hoxie Arkansas is a sweltering hot day. This is a "One Horse Town". Four corners a traffic light and railroad tracks running through. My grandmother Arnette bequeathed twenty thousand dollars to me to execute her estate. Her home is the last asset to close the estate.

My grandma worked forty years in Detroit as a secretary. She inherited her parent’s home in Hoxie. The house is an old southern country home. Wrap around porch, two full bathrooms, sitting room, large kitchen, formal dining area and a parlor. There were 4 bedrooms upstairs and an attic that ran the length of the house. To say the house was past its prime was an understatement. It maintained "a certain charm" that had local Realtors swarming for the listing.

The key tumbled the lock, the door creaked, the wooden floorboards flexed. The emptiness of the house could be felt to my bones. It was as if the house "knew" my grandmother was gone never to return.

Walking the first floor of the house. It appeared to have not changed since the 1920's. The furnishings were now antiques, but were new when originally set in place. They were probably worth a fortune on today's market. My time here was limited. My company was relocating from Minnesota to Copenhagen, Denmark.

Famished I walked to the only restaurant in town-The Wagon Wheel. It was clear I was not local. The stares bore through me. The whispers started. I shrugged it off -small town gossiping.

Returning to the house I ascended the staircase to the bedrooms. They also had not changed except for the dust on all the furniture suites. There were handmade quilts that my friend Carol would treasure.

On to the “secret” attic. Only family members knew it existed. I pulled the door to the attic open and climbed the steps. The dust and cobwebs that greeted me were overwhelming. The room had not been opened in decades. The items stored here were a few photo albums, some decorative paintings, some old clothes, many old suitcases along the west wall, an antique vanity with a mirror, several cedar chests placed against the walls. In the far east corner my great grandmother’s wedding dress was amazingly preserved. It could be restored with a good dry cleaning. The gown was a white tulle with simple beading on the front and bodice. It had a sheer beaded cape that matched perfectly. The gown was structured with twelve layers of tulle with a foundation layer of silk to give it a luxurious look. I always dreamed I would be wed in this gown. I held it up against me and gazed into the mirror. I heard a thump. The lining had torn from the gown and on the ground lay a little black book. I picked it up. It was very old yet sturdy. The outside cover had a well worn leather patina. This was a book that had significant use, not a shelf sitter. I flipped through it and realized it was a notebook. The notebook looked and felt like my own Moleskine (™) notebook. A century later I am holding a similar notebook. I must have inherited my love for writing from my great grandmother Doris. I sat down and began to read the journal. Sweat poured off me from the heat but I was lost in the words on each page. Words and phrases jumped out at me: Hitler, Jews, concentration camps, WWII, Secret American Underground Resistance. I felt like a time traveler in the middle of WWII. Why was this journal in my great grandmother’s attic, hidden inside her wedding gown. It was her handwriting. She was born in an upstairs bedroom. There was no record of her having left the State of Arkansas. Her wedding to Thomas Michaelson was held on the grounds of this home where they settled in with her parents. The arrangement worked well. Margaret and William Mitchell “Mom and Pop” were there to help with the raising of Doris and Thomas’ Children: Nancy, Rudy, Hutton and Arnette. Nothing about their lives would suggest anything about an American Underground Resistance in WWII. I am holding a “little black book” that indicates otherwise.

February 1, 1940 we met with our contact “Roderick”, he handed us a package wrapped with twine. We finished our cafe au laits and left the cafe. We arrived at another cafe, “John” met us with a large envelope. We went to the Rive Gauche-the Left Bank of the Seine River and connected with “Leslie” after a brief chat between “strangers” about the romance of the Seine she reached into her handbag and offered us her cigarette case and walked on. We gazed up at the Eiffel Tower. “The Iron Lady” A globally iconic structure. We became the “good journalists” and began snapping photos of her. We ascended in her lifts for our lunch with “Robert”. We enjoyed a traditional 3 course french meal. Robert gave us an envelope and provided our next location and contact. We proceeded to the Rive Droite The Right Bank of the Seine river. Where she waited for us on the first floor, Room 6 of the Denon Wing of the Louvre Museum-The Mona Lisa. The most famous painting in the world. Diminutive in size a mere 30 X 21 inches--astounding for her "Larger than Life Legacy". We walked into her suite, her eyes followed us. The experience was chilling, although she was known for this feature. A docent approached us. “Alison” spoke the words we came to hear. We thanked her and walked out of Mona Lisa’s suite feeling her gaze on us until we were out of sight.

We met again with “Alison” at midnight. She handed us keys to a waiting lorry. We drove the lorry to a warehouse in the near the western end of The Champs-Elysees. We marveled at the Arc De Triomphe as we waited for our next contacts.

I heard a knocking on the door. It was Realtor Ann Bryd. She stood on the porch swatting away a bumble bee. She was a classic beauty. 50 years old, 5’6” shoulder length brunette hair. She had the fashion style and business sense of a modern Park Avenue New Yorker. I wondered what brought her to this area of Arkansas-more importantly what kept her in Arkansas. She inquired about her offer to list the property. Perhaps it was nostalgia but something was preventing me from releasing the property. I got the sense that she was not going to leave without the listing. We sat in the parlor and talked about pricing and time frames. I was barely listening. Memories of the loved ones that were laid out in this parlor for their visitation and funerals came flooding back. Is this still a practice in southern states, to bring your loved ones home I wondered. There was another knocking at the door. A portly man in his mid sixties introduced himself as Peyton Wilson The Mayor of Hoxie. This was his “welcome to Hoxie” visit. He and Ann were old friends and exchanged greetings. He inquired about the property and my length of stay in town. They departed together. They stayed on the lawn talking at length. My trip to Hoxie was not announced nor expected yet it seemed everyone in town knew I was at the house. I returned to the attic and discovered I was not alone. A bumble bee was buzzing around, perhaps the same bumble bee Ann was swatting away. I picked up the journal and commenced reading.

We repeated our trips to Paris several times throughout the war. We had Passports with our names changed for cover. Wyatt and Beatrice Mason. That is where I got the Nickname “Bea” We traveled as free lance journalists covering the war in Europe.

My Great Grandparents were “secret agents” ? Helping the American Resistance in France? I turned the page. A key decorative yet functional, was taped to the page, I removed the key from the page. The weight of the key was surprising given the unique open filigree work. The bee lighted on the vanity. I noticed the top drawer had a lock. I took the key and placed it in the lock. The click broke the silence. Inside the drawer was an envelope. The envelope had my name written on the front.

Kiera

My Dear Granddaughter: I know you must be terribly confused by the findings in the attic. You will come to learn why this was kept from you until my death. Many people throughout the years have suspected but have not been able to confirm the secrets held by this home. When your mother Karen preceded me in death I had no choice but to pass the responsibility on to you. There was an American Resistance in Europe during WWII. Adolf Hitler and his Nazi Party waged a genocide on the Jewish people. history has colloquially called it “The Holocaust”. The Jewish people taken to the “work camps” or forced into ghettos were stripped of their art, jewelry, valuables and money. To preserve their legacy for future heirs, families entrusted them to us. Your great grandparents traveled to Paris many times throughout the war, each time adding valuables in warehouses that were smuggled across European countries from Jewish families. The end of the war, as families were reunited they reclaimed their valuables and money. Distribution of the assets continued until 1975 at which time the remainder of the valuables were brought over time, to our family home in Arkansas. The agreement was if they were not claimed by fifty years from the end of the war the valuables and money would pass to our family. My dearest I have left it all for you. You have a heart of gold. I know you will help many for generations with this wealth. The secrets will stay preserved as long as you maintain ownership of the house. The townspeople will stop for friendly chats with you and Realtors will be relentless. Handle them with grace. Our home’s legend has never been confirmed. No one knows what secrets this old house truly holds. You will live a life of comfort. Your only task is to protect the family home and choose your successor.

I was baffled. This must be a joke from beyond the veil. Grandma’s way of softening the grief from her passing. The Bumble Bee flew to the suitcases, then to the cedar chests then to the decorative paintings. “Grandma”? was her soul encapsulated in this bee. Inside the suitcases were thousands of jewels. The cedar chests held millions in cash. I flipped through the decorative paintings. Stunned, I realized they were all worth millions on the modern art market. These were part of the Trust.

Reflecting on the life purpose before me. I prayed silently for God’s strength and guidance. Non profits can be created throughout the USA to assist with education and basic human needs. An animal sanctuary for rescued animals will be founded in honor of the the victims of the Holocaust. I was filled with serenity and peace as I began to settle into my new home.