A Tiara Under the Tree

“Oh my God, this place is gorgeous.” Waverly’s eyes lit up as she took in the structure. “When I retire from the pageant world, I want to own a place like this and raise a family.”

Dominic gave her a wink and took

mental note of her dream house. The Italian Renaissance revival house reeked of living history. From the outside of the redbrick home, it appeared to have at least four floors. But given Dominic’s love for history and the age of the house, he was willing to bet on a few extra nonvisible floors. He secretly hoped the Harveys would give them a tour of the mansion. Dominic was dying to get a look at the cupola, the white dome with a gold cap that topped the flat roof. This was one of the many things Dominic loved about living in Georgia. It was so rich with the past. An American flag swayed in the wind high up on the flagpole. He wondered if a rebel flag had ever hung from it. He wouldn’t have been surprised.

The dark pine double doors opened and an older, dark-skinned African American man stepped out first, dressed in Civil War Union Blues. A half second later, a pleasantly plump woman in a patchwork dress followed. Her gloved hands went to her mouth and her eyes widened with what seemed to be excitement.

“Welcome,” the two chorused.

Waverly reached for Dominic’s hand. Her little fingers curled around the side of his hand. “Here we go,” she said under her breath. Glancing down, Dominic watched as she transformed herself from the slouch in the passenger seat to a full-fledged beauty queen, seven-inch tiara included.

“Mr. and Mrs. Harvey.” Waverly greeted the elderly couple with a strong, boisterous, peppy voice. Her smile, causing her eyes to crinkle in the corners, spread across her face. “Thank you so much for having us.”

“Oh, we’re so blessed to have you,” said Mrs. Harvey, stepping down off her wraparound porch. “Please, I’m Fannie, and this is my husband, Stan. We know you two are probably on a tight schedule and want to get back on the road, but we hope you’ll stay for lunch.”

“Considering your sizable donation, we’d be willing to spend the night.” Waverly laughed.

“Really?” Fannie asked eagerly. “We can have the fourth floor set up for the two of you.”

“Fourth?” Waverly repeated. “I only counted two levels.”

Once they climbed the dozen or so wide front porch steps, Stan held the doors open for the two of them to enter. Everyone’s footsteps sounded off the hardwood floors of the porch and changed in pitch when they all entered the marble hallway. Dominic tried not to gasp in awe too much.

“You look like a man who appreciates historic things,” said Mr. Harvey, slapping him on the back. “I can tell by the car you’re driving. Packard?”

“Yes, sir,” Dominic confirmed with a nod. “It’s been a project of mine.”

Waverly placed her hand on Dominic’s forearm. He felt her pride as she spoke about his profession. “Dominic restores old cars. Maybe you’ve heard of his company? Crowne’s Garage?”

Mr. Harvey’s mouth twisted as he nodded. “Yep, your name is well known in my circle of friends. I see you’re missing your winged goddess.”

Dominic turned and sighed at the missing hood ornament. “Yes, I’m in search of one.”

“I might know some folks who can help out.” Stan left his hand on Dominic’s shoulder. “You’re a big fellow, ain’t you? Ever thought of doing some reenacting?”

“I’m sorry, what?” Dominic leaned closer to make sure he’d heard correctly.

“Fannie and I are Civil War reenactors,” he said, glancing down at himself. “We have a speaking engagement after lunch.”

Good to know. Dominic was worried they dressed like this on a day-to-day basis.

“We could always use a strong guy like yourself,” Stan went on. “And I’m sure one of my friends might be able to help you out with your missing ornament.”

Ahead of the men, Waverly cast a glance over her right shoulder and gave Dominic a slight smile. “Please say you’ll do it.”

Dominic scratched the back of his neck. He was willing to give and do anything for Waverly, but dressing up and playing soldier? He’d have to think twice. Thankfully Fannie Harvey filled the short walk into the formal sitting room with the history of the house.

Mrs. Fannie Harvey led them down the main level, or proper level, as she explained. During a light lunch of crustless pimento cheese sandwiches and sweet tea, she gave them a history lesson about their home’s changes of hands over the years. The house once belonged to a man named George Harvey, Stan’s great-grandfather. He was born before the Civil War and raised as a slave but served in the house because the owner was his biological father. When the war broke out, the white owners, the Harveys, were allowed to sit out and send their slaves as their representatives. George went to war and survived. When he returned, the Harveys had sold off the rest of his family in order to maintain their lifestyle. George headed down to Southwood and married a nice woman. When he turned sixty-nine, World War I broke out and the original Harveys put their home up for sale. This was not an uncommon event for a lot of families who stayed in the South. The structure didn’t sell until the stock market crashed ten years later. George gathered all his and his family’s money together and purchased the building for a sweet price. The Harveys had been passing down their home from generation to generation.

“And with our kids all grown and on the verge of being on their own once they find jobs,” Fannie finished, “we’ve just been finding things around here to give to good homes.”

“We’d seen you, Waverly, serving the veterans on Thursday,” Stan said. “And it stuck with us.”

“That, and you look so much like George’s mother, Sissy Harvey.” Fannie reached in the folds of her skirt and extracted a silver locket. She opened the tiny lock and showed Waverly and Dominic the old grainy black-and-white photo of a woman and man filling the circular space.

Waverly’s mouth opened wide. “She does look like we could be some kin. I’ll have to ask my mother what she knows.”

Dominic peered over his glass of tea at Waverly. She sat with her elbows on the table, enthralled with the story. She was so animated at every bit of detail. Fannie pushed the locket close to Dominic’s face.