AFTER THE NOON MASS, I drive over to the Myer Estate to meet with Leslie. Ever punctual, she’s already there when I arrive, carrying a small notebook and a pen. I don’t see a car, but I assume the bicycle leaning up against the side of the house is hers.
“Leslie,” I say as I walk up, “did you bike here? It’s quite a haul.”
“Yes,” she says in her usual expressionless manner. “Because I’ve been so busy with this and other things, I haven’t been able to get my runs in. I thought cycling would get me back on track.”
“Well,” I see, “are you ready to glimpse the future?” My chuckle at my own cleverness is met with the same expressionless stare she reserves for everyone over the age of ten. She stands aside and I unlock the door into the Myer Mansion.
We walk into the large foyer, dominated b
