The Stacks

Chapter 28: The Lions' Den

Sunday afternoon, Harry and I drove to the Metlers' residence. I had spent hours trying to decide what to wear and how to style my hair, hoping to make a good first impression. I still wasn't convinced this was a good idea. It had been barely a year and a half since their daughter passed away. Harry grieved in his own way, but the way he had described Mr. and Mrs. Metler's grief was entirely another story. Again, I chose to trust that he knew it would be fine, or he wouldn't have asked me to come along.

He hadn't told me that the Metlers owned such a huge estate. I didn't necessarily need warning but I was rather stunned as we approached what was easily a million-dollar estate in Rochester Hills, one of Detroit's wealthiest suburbs. I knew these swanky areas existed - I grew up near Troy and there were plenty of wealthy neighborhoods nearby. However, I never knew anyone personally who lived in this kind of luxury.

The front door was answered by an-honest-to-goodness maid for heaven's sake, clothed in a long, black dress and wearing a plain white apron. No frilly hat or pinafore, but I would have thought I stepped into an episode of Downton Abbey.

"Hello, Pamela," Harry greeted her cheerfully. "This is Regan."

"Oh, Mr. Harry, it's good to see you," she said, clapping her hands together in glee. "And it's lovely to meet you, Ms. Regan." I wanted to tell her that just Regan was fine, but I was still in a tad bit of shock.

Just then, a busty blonde woman came into the foyer. If I didn't know better, I'd think she was an older Marilyn Monroe, from the way her blonde hair was poofed and coifed around her smiling face, which was adorned by bright red lipstick and heavy mascara. "Harry! How lovely to see you!" 

Harry hugged her warmly and murmured, "Good to see you, Mary."

This had to be Mrs. Metler, although I would never have guessed it, based on Liz's appearance. The two looked nothing alike. From what little I remembered of Liz, her hair was almost jet black and she had a long, narrow face with high cheekbones and sunken cheeks. Mrs. Metler's face was decidedly more full. Her hair seemed to be "enhanced" as I'd never seen a woman her age with such a perfect shade of blonde, but I was convinced she had been a natural blonde at one time.

"And who do we have here?" She asked in a tight yet polite voice.

My mouth dropped open, surprised already for the second time in a matter of minutes. Harry had said they had asked to meet me, hadn't he?

"I'm sorry, Mary, how rude of me," Harry said and I was certain he was putting on a heavier British accent than normal. "This is Regan Flannery." There was no further clarification about who I was exactly.

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Regan," Mary said, holding out her somewhat pudgy hand to shake mine. A spurious smile seemed to have taken up permanent residence on her face.

I shot Harry a nervous glance and the look on his face read, Just play along. I pressed my lips together into a puckered frown, shooting a glance back to him that meant You have some explaining to do.

"Nice to meet you, too, Mrs. Metler," I replied with the best courtesy I could muster.

She turned and led us into a cavernous great room that had two-story windows facing a lake that appeared to be the center of the ritzy neighborhood. A huge fountain billowed out of the center of the lake, leading me to wonder how they kept the water warm enough to keep flowing in December.

"Arthur, dear!" She hollered. "Harry's here with his friend." A flash of genuine embarrassment burned my cheeks.

"Harry, my boy!" I heard the blaring of his deep voice before I saw him bounding down the stairs like and excited teenager going on his first date. He was tall, taller than Harry, with very dark hair which was sprinkled with a bit of salt and pepper. By his complexion and his appearance, I would guess him to be Middle Eastern or maybe Greek, but his accent was one hundred percent American.