Blood, Tears, and Gold

Chapter One - The House of Angels

|The House of Angels|

When the doorbell rang across the D'Angelo house, it tolled as though in warning. Turn away, turn back now.

From outside on the chilly front porch, Leigh Nightingale could hear it echo in the too-big manor. It seemed to go on forever. She craned her head around and moved backwards to take another look at the Victorian manse in all its traditional restored glory.

Stained-glass windows, wide eaves, a small turret at the front and ornamental brackets that made the manse look like a Gothic gingerbread house all gave off the effect Leigh knew the D'Angelos wanted; they were filthy rich.

The front door with the golden lion knocker opened up and there stood a thin, incredibly tall woman in her mid-forties, her black hair in a chignon, pearls laced across her throat, and overalls splattered with paint.

Leigh could recognize her Auntie V anywhere, no matter it had been almost ten years. Vanessa D'Angelo was a hard soul to miss, with her pealing laughter, striking though faded looks and sharp eyes. The only signs of her aging were the crinkles dabbled at the edges of her green irises and the streak of gray running from her forehead. Auntie V's obsession with the arts was shared by Leigh's mother, only Ruby Nightingale was an actress rather than a painter. Or had been.

"Leigh?" Said Auntie V. Her eyes suddenly became watery.

"Hello, Auntie," Leigh smiled apologetically, but she worried it might look like a grimace and quickly glanced down at the luggage by her feet. "I'm sorry I'm a little later than I expected, my taxi hit traffic on our way out from Birmingham-"

"Oh, my girl!" Leigh suddenly found herself tackled into a bear hug. Sharp perfume oozed off the woman and stung the nose hair off of Leigh's nostrils. She fought the urge to sneeze. "Oh my darling girl, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry."

Leigh wrapped her arms around her aunt's waist and hugged back. She had seen the telltale signs of grief on Auntie V's face since they were mirrored in her own; sleepless, puffy gray eyes, the wilt to her shoulders as though the weight of the sky had been placed upon them. Even Auntie V's chignon had a few flyaway strands, which Leigh found shocking. If memory served well, even in the most dire of circumstances, Auntie V had always kept her composure, her rules always maintained, never a toe out of place- never a hair on her head misplaced.

Leigh hugged back and didn't bother to tell Auntie V how hollow the apologies were to her ears. Auntie's grief was just as real as hers; it was the only bond the two shared after ten years of separation, after all.

When Auntie V let go, she held Leigh at arm's length, the same teary look in her eyes. "Oh, you've grown so much. I mean, I visited you in the hopsital and all, but I just..." She shook her head, as if mentally scolding herself. "You look so much like your mother."

Leigh's throat closed, but she managed a slight smile for Auntie V's sake. Her aunt beckoned for Leigh to follow her inside and turned to call for her husband. "Rolph! Rolph, Cassandra, come down, Leigh's here!"

Leigh gathered her suitcase and pillow and followed her aunt through the threshold, glancing at the large lion head roaring at her as she passed. Leigh mused at the sharp shiny teeth and pompous flick of it's mane. Honestly, it seemed a bit excessive, but once she came into the entry hall she realized excessive was the D'Angelo's middle name.

Lush Persian carpets and exotic plants covered the oak floors of the hall. Replicas of world famous paintings, antiques and canvases done by the master herself were placed carefully throughout the walls, and there was even a golden tapestry of what looked to be an angel with it's wings widespread and poised for flight on a shield. The family crest, perhaps?