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he’d been here
before. “Perhaps you can explain what these things are, Mr.
Asher.”
    He lifted his shoulders. “Sure.” He
proceeded to do so, although his explanations didn’t help Belle all
that much. She was used to grits and cornbread and potato pone and
greens and bacon. Southern food. Good food. Knowing she had to
choose, even if she didn’t know what she was getting, she finally
decided on a stuffed sopapilla . What it was going to be
stuffed with, Belle was almost afraid to find out.
    Everything turned out to be quite tasty in
the end. Belle was vastly glad about that, as she’d suffered qualms
for her delicate southern stomach. As she attended to the children,
she kept her attention fixed on the conversation being carried on
by the adults at the table with her. Mr. Asher, she soon
discovered, was a very persuasive gentleman.
    “I envision this series of studies as a
portrait of America, Mr. and Mrs. Richmond,” he said. “I intend
them to depict the true wealth of our great nation.”
    “Wealth is good,” Mr. Richmond stated
uncertainly.
    Mr. Asher smiled. “Wealth is very good. But
what I perceive as this wonderful country’s greatest asset is her
people. When I shut my eyes, I can see a series of portraits
featuring a mother and her sweet children embodying all the best
qualities of every family in America.”
    Mrs. Richmond, Belle was interested to note,
blushed and appeared quite gratified. She shot her husband a
glance. He caught it and grinned at her. Belle was touched by the
exchange and had to wipe a stray tear from her eye and wished she
weren’t so emotional—not up here in the North, where southern
sensibilities weren’t appreciated.
    “I’m not sure I’m expressing myself very
well, Mr. and Mrs. Richmond, but perhaps you can understand anyhow.
I envision these pictures as symbolic of the United States. They’ll
depict the best our nation has to offer. They’ll show the world
that perfect freedom, perfect beauty, and perfect harmony can be
found here, in the United States of America.” He went so far as to
thump the luncheon table, making Belle’s glass of water slop
slightly. She reached out to steady it.
    He didn’t notice. “If that weren’t so,
people wouldn’t be flocking to our shores. These portraits will be
a tangible demonstration of the American quality of e quality. And hope for weary masses of humanity who
have no opportunities in their native countries.”
    Mr. Richmond’s face had been wreathed in a
complacent smile. With Win’s last words, his smile tilted. “There
are too many dirty immigrants here already, if you ask me.”
    Mrs. Richmond patted his hand. “Now, now,
George. You know they aren’t all dirty and ignorant.”
    “Humph.”
    Mrs. Richmond smiled sweetly at Win. “George
gets quite upset when he contemplates the immigrant situation, Mr.
Asher.”
    As if he didn’t want anything to spoil his
vision, Win quickly chimed in. “But don’t you see, Mr. Richmond?
These pictures will inspire all who come here to achieve greatness!
Nobody will want to wallow in the ghettoes after they get a look at
the series I visualize.”
    Both Richmonds considered this. So did their
children. So did Belle. Mr. Asher smiled at them all in turn, then
cleared his throat. The way he straightened, as if he were steeling
himself to tackle a tough problem, puzzled Belle. Until he next
spoke.
    “So, the thing is, Mr. and Mrs. Richmond,
your children are charming. Perfect. They’re exactly right for what
I want to do. And so are you. But—well—you see, what I’d really like to do is use your children and
Miss Monroe in this series of portraits.”
    The gasp of surprise was universal.

Chapter Three
     
    After the initial gasp of shock, which he’d
expected, the reaction from the Richmonds was also very much what
Win had expected. Mrs. Richmond’s eyes grew large, then narrowed.
She tried to hide her disappointment and annoyance, but couldn’t
quite do it. Mr.