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Countess Dorothy Borghase gingerly picked her way through the mounting snow as she maneuvered around the snow-laden plants and shrubs outside Margaret’s enormous, Windsor Farms home. Dottie had decided that since the roads seemed okay, she’d head out to Margaret’s house and get the story directly from the horse’s mouth. Dottie was like that. She didn’t want any second-hand information. She supposed it was just part of her noble upbringing. She wanted to be in charge and know everything. She thought her friends should tell her everything first. Probably part of the competitiveness she learned as an Olympic silver medal winner as well. After all, I am an aristocrat. Well, maybe not royal like William, Kate, and the queen, but nevertheless an aristocrat.
Margaret Massie’s neighborhood was the epitome of old Richmond. Designed in 1926, Windsor Farms was one of Richmond's first planned neighborhoods. It was designed like an English village, with curvy streets with English names like Dover, Canterbury, and Berkshire. The neighborhood was dotted with various architectural styles; but the most common by far were Colonial Revival and Cape Cods. Margaret’s brick colonial mansion was located on an eighteen-acre parcel that extended down to the historic James River. Dorothy had attended dozens of parties, both inside and outside of the estate, always catered by the best Richmond had to offer and attended by local Bluebloods and moneyed people from D.C. and the first families of Virginia. Also included were Margaret’s eccentric collection of artist and actor friends.
Margaret’s husband, Beau, was wealthy. In truth, he was richer than most everyone and was arrogant and opinionated. Dottie wasn’t sure she really liked him, and pretty much felt the feeling was mutual. She’d managed to tolerate him over the years since Margaret was her best friend. They’d been through thick and thin, and Margaret, even though she was pampered beyond belief, was a good soul, and spent a great deal of her time helping others less fortunate than herself. In the sixty years Dottie had known her, Margaret had managed charity balls, raised money for the homeless and unfortunate people, childcare centers, dog shelters, the Museum, and just about every charitable cause that had come her way.
Dottie and Margaret had lived their lives together. They’d ruled Richmond as ingénues, newlyweds, matrons, and now dowagers. The two had been docents at the Valentine Museum of Richmond that chronicled the life and history of Richmond. They organized and managed the Junior League of Richmond. They’d raised their children together, and essentially managed St. Christopher’s and St. Catherine’s private schools for about twenty years. Beau Massie, a University of Virginia alumni, along with his sons, had partied in box seats at Scott Stadium on Alumni field at ‘the University.’ They’d covered each other’s asses too many times to tell and spent many an afternoon hunkered down either in the vodka or sherry bottle. They’d shared a lifetime of memories and were the best of friends.
Dottie carefully maneuvered her tall, elegant frame up the de-iced porch and rang the massive brass doorbell. Margaret’s maid answered. “Good afternoon, Countess.”
Dottie nodded stiffly and asked for Margaret.
The maid ushered her into the foyer and went to get Margaret who stumbled in shortly thereafter and fell into Dottie’s arms, her eyes red from crying. Her maid followed her everywhere she went.
The two older women hugged for a moment, and the maid assisted Margaret into the parlor, helped her sit down, and left to get coffee.
Dottie stared at her friend. “Screw the coffee, Marge, we’re hitting the bottle. It’s five o’clock somewhere, right?”
Margaret started to protest, but Dottie was firm. “Just a small glass or two of sherry. We’re not drinking the entire bottle today, I promise.” She waved away Margaret’s objections and smiled knowingly. “We’ve got to keep our wits about us and figure this out. Besides, I’m driving, so I’ll just have a snort.”
Margaret smiled weakly. “I’m sure a glass of sherry will certainly calm my nerves. What can it hurt?” she asked.
“We’ll consider it ‘medicine’ for your nerves,” Dottie suggested.
“I can get Frederick to take you home in the Town Car; it’d be a good idea anyway because when the roads freeze in a few hours we’re going to have black ice.”
“Perfect.” Dottie poured two crystal glasses full of crème sherry from Margaret’s cut glass decanter on the sideboard. She handed one to Margaret and said, “Now, catch me up. What’s happened?”
Margaret drank deeply from her glass and the golden liquid slid smoothly down her throat and warmed her like gold fire in her veins and belly. She sighed and said, “That’s good, Dottie. Just what the doctor would’ve ordered.”
Dottie sat patiently as Margaret enjoyed her ‘sherry moment,’ as they chose to call them.“ Has Beau contacted anyone?” she prompted, knowing Margaret’s husband could work the world from the top of his money tower downtown and that he would to find his beloved granddaughter.
Margaret shook her head.
Dottie looked at the strain on her friend’s face as she remembered their lives together. Sixty years had flown by quickly. Now, they’d become a part of Richmond’s dowager population where they spent most of their time conducting tours at the Virginia Museum of Fine Arts, having lunch at Bloomingdale’s, and talking about people at the country club.
“He called the police chief, but they can’t do anything officially until she’s missing for twenty-four hours, which,” she said as she looked her watch, “will be in just a few hours.”
Dottie nodded. “Tell me everything. Everything you know, and I’ll get the information to Michaela. Michaela left to go down to her old precinct to talk to the lieutenant in charge just as soon as I got your text.”
Margaret smiled gratefully. “Michaela. God bless her. She’s just the best. We’ll be able to depend on her.”
Dottie nodded firmly. “Yes, no question. She’ll find Allison, and I’m going to help her.” So tell me, what do you know?”
Margaret looked uncertain. “Not much. Allison was staying here. She has been for a few weeks. Her parents are still in Europe but should be home late tonight. As I told you the other day, she finished dental hygienist school at VCU and graduated in December. She traveled with her parents for a while and decided to get a job to put her degree to work.”
Dottie nodded impatiently, “I know, I know. Why’d she go to Dr. Dude’s place? We both know the rumors about him and young women.”
Margaret gave Dottie a stern look. “I don’t agree with all of those rumors. She chose Dr. Smirkowitz because of his prestige and his work. There’s more than one story out there. Nicholas Smirkowitz has the best, most lucrative practice of cosmetic dentistry in Richmond. She knew she could get the best experience. She’s contemplating dental school, you know.” Margaret paused for a moment as her eyes filled with tears.
Dottie sat impatiently and sipped her sherry. “Yes, yes, go on.”
Margaret gave Dottie a peevish look. “Just be patient, Dottie, I’m talking as fast as I can. I’m a little stressed, you know.”
Dottie nodded. “I’m sorry. I just want to help as best I can.”
“She’d finished her travels and decided to get a job, and Dr. S. had an opening, so she applied. She called on Monday, the interview was two yesterday, Wednesday, and she never came home. She didn’t call or text. I didn’t get worried until about six last evening when she didn’t show up for dinner.” Margaret paused for a moment. “I thought she’d gone shopping or met a friend for dinner, but nevertheless, she’d have still called me.”
Dottie nodded again.
“She’s just so sweet and thoughtful. She’s a perfect granddaughter,” Margaret said as her face crumpled into tears. She pulled a tissue out of her pocket.
“Margaret, don’t get so upset, at least until I can get all the information to tell Mic. Did you call Dr. Smirkowitz’s office?”
Margaret nodded and gave Dottie a dirty look. “Of course, I did. The office staff said she’d left about three-thirty. I talked to Smirkowitz himself, who assured me she had the job and had left in the afternoon after a very delightful and fruitful interview.”
Dottie rolled her eyes. “Was Smirkowitz there when you called to check on her?”
She shook her head. “No, or maybe I should say that I don’t know. I called his service, and he called me about nine o’clock last night. He seemed surprised and concerned she wasn’t home.”
Dottie was quiet, waiting for more. Margaret remained silent. “Is there anything else?”
Margaret shook her head as tears streamed down her face. “No, not really. I called several of her friends, but they hadn’t seen her. I don’t know anything. Only that she is missing.” Margaret brushed tears from her eyes, blew her nose and reached for her sherry glass.
Dottie stood up, paced the room, and returned with the decanter of sherry and a box of tissues. “I’m sure Mic will check the traffic cams and get back with us. At least we’ll be able to track where she went in her car.”
A flush spread across Margaret’s face. “Good. If Michaela can find Allison, I’ll buy her a new restaurant. In fact, I’ll buy her anything she wants.” She pushed her sherry glass towards Dottie, “Hit me again, friend. I’m feeling better.” Margaret smiled and held her empty sherry glass out to Dottie. “Just one more.”
Dottie smiled and complied. She rose and glanced out the window. It was still snowing furiously. Maybe she’d just spend the night with her old friend. After all, she did have her own room at Margaret’s mansion, and the cook made great dinners. Yes, she’d stay she decided as she reached again for the sherry. She’d have to remember to call Cookie, her housekeeper so she wouldn’t worry.