Forget to Remember

looked like me.” Carol hadn’t bothered to bring a picture of Cynthia, since she was apparently a better likeness for her than the picture on the Internet missing persons Web site.
    Lord B focused on her as if seeing her for the first time. He was about to say something when a small bundle of energy burst into the room in the form of a woman wearing a long, black dress that might have been fashionable eighty years ago and incongruous sneakers, or trainers as Carol knew they were called here. Her cheeks were flushed under her white hair that was pulled into a severe bun.
    She strode directly to the cart and poured herself a cup of tea. Then she addressed Lord B. “Lovely day for a brisk walk, Abie. You should try it. It would help your arthritis.”
    “Yes, Hermy, I plan to do a few miles on the stationary bike in a bit.”
    “Better to go outside in the fresh air. The sun gives you Vitamin D and siphons the toxins out of your system.” She pronounced the “vit” in vitamin to rhyme with “it.” She took a couple of sips of tea and turned to Carol. “I’m Hermione. No, don’t get up.”
    She shook hands with Carol, who mumbled her own name, and then turned back to Lord B. “Where did you find her? I’m sure she’ll make a good subject for one of your infamous paintings. In fact, if I recall correctly, there’s a girl in your den who looks a lot like her. Well, I’m off to a meeting of the Young Ladies Welfare League.”
    Before either of them could say anything more, she was gone. Lord B smiled at Carol. “Well, now you’ve met my sister. My older sister, although you wouldn’t know it by watching her nonstop activity.”
    “She seems very nice.”
    “She is that, but we operate on different planes of existence. Since she alluded to my weakness, I feel it only fair that I mention hers. She’s never been married, never had a date as far as I know. There’s a bit of verse that describes her. Since it uses baseball terminology I can’t usually recite it in England, but I spent several years in the States and I’m sure you’ll understand it.
    “It goes like this: ‘Beneath this clay lies Ellie May; for her life held no terrors. She lived a virgin, died a virgin; no runs, no hits, no errors.’”
    Carol laughed. “She doesn’t seem to be any the worse for it.”
    “No. Certainly she’s a good spokesperson for her lifestyle although, it’s not one I could undertake. She mentioned a painting in my den. I would like you to see it.”
    Lord B laboriously rose from his seat. Carol followed him to another room containing a high, glass-topped table that must double as a desk—it even had a computer on it—and more paintings on the walls, with a higher percentage of nudes than in the other room.
    He pointed to a good-sized nude hanging above the table. “What do you think of that?”
    Carol couldn’t suppress a gasp. It was either a picture of her or her twin sister. The face, the body style. The model’s hair was longer, but the same color as Carol’s. She looked at it for another few seconds and calmed down a little. It wasn’t her. “That must be Cynthia.”
    “I don’t know the name of the model, but it was painted by Jacques, the fellow who died in the crash. Too bad. He had talent.”
    “I’m sure that’s Cynthia. At least I can be certain she was here.”
    “I never met her. Since we can’t ask Jacques about her, I don’t know how we can trace her. Would it help if you had a picture of the painting?”
    Carol nodded. “Yes it would. At least it would prove I tried to find her.”
    Lord B stepped up to the table, which was high enough so he could operate the computer while standing. He was obviously an expert. With a few clicks of the mouse, he brought up a likeness of the painting on the monitor, activated the printer, and printed a copy. Carol asked him for a second copy. He made three and handed them to her. She thanked him. He turned toward her.
    “As far as I know, that’s all I can do for you . Let’s talk about what you can do for me.”
    “Anything.”
    “Sean tells me he asked you to pose for him. He saw you as an ideal candidate for my collection. Of course, he’s seen this painting. He was correct. If you’ll be his model, I’ll make sure you get paid double the usual fee.”
    She should have seen this coming. In a way, Sean had set her up. Still, she had learned something about Cynthia. Old men were obviously attracted to her. There was nothing wrong