At once, Twyla slides the documents back inside the envelope and opens the portfolio, evoking the whisper of graphite pencils across pads in Grams’ diligent hand as she drew unsuspecting guests. The nucleus of the soul was her obsession, not the shape or color, but an inner light of the eyes that revealed a person’s soul. Grams strove to capture her model’s inner self in her art.
Sitting on the floor again, Twyla flips through several sketches of people, arriving at an image of a one-and-a-half-story log cabin bordered by woodlands, overlooking Seneca lake. In the right-hand corner lie Grams’ initials, dated 1798. Did she mean 1998?
The next drawing depicts a dark-haired woman in a pale-yellow, Victorian-style dress, standing near a fireplace with enigmatic eyes that leap through the pai
