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Page 15.
Chapter 12.
 "This is Nikos Stavros, the curator," Lexa said. The gray-haired man in dark business suit bowed slightly. "Mr. Stavros, this is my friend Dr. Jeff Maxxon."
"Pleased to meet you." Jeff shook the offered hand.
Lexa said: "Dr. Maxxon is writing a book about Raritania City. I wanted to show him the museum."
"I'll be happy to tell you anything I know," Stavros said. His voice betrayed a faint accent. Greek, Jeff surmised. Stavros fawned in her presence; no wonder, Jeff thought, seeing Albert Beering's portrait glaring down at them from a high wall. "Thanks." Jeff pointed to the portraits. "There's Mr. Beering, obviously quite a number of years ago."
Stavros nodded. "Those portraits of Mr. Beering and his late wife were painted in 1962 by the well-known Dutch artist Tikk Lubbers."
Jeff stared at the two paintings. The woman, who appeared to be in her fifties and had rich dark hair (colored?), faintly resembled Lexa. Albert Beering had looked meatier around sixty, with the same cold brilliant eyes and harsh little mouth; and something about the bald, bulbous head...
Lexa said, "I'm going to run along. You enjoy yourself and give me a call sometime soon, hear?"
"Yes!" He watched her walk away. She threw a look over her shoulder that made Jeff's back shiver pleasantly.
Stavros interposed himself, eager to help. "Dr. Maxxon, let me show you the upper room if I may." He led Jeff up a broad, shallow flight of carpeted stairs. He indicated the ivory-like hand railings. "Those are covered in plastic, did you notice?"
Jeff touched the dull material.
"Plastic," Stavros said, "was a great invention for the times. The Queen Mary had plastic-covered hand railings, which were proudly advertised. They were supposed to keep ladies' delicate hands warm, as opposed to wood or steel railings that were beastly cold during North Atlantic crossings. As you can imagine, plastic potty seats were the rage also."
"Makes sense," Jeff said. Something was bothering him at the fringes of his mind, and he wasn't sure what it was.
They came to a small library. "Here are the archives of the leading families of Raritania City. The Russets, the Longs, the White-Astors, the Bell-Longchamps, the Duquays, they are all represented here, all the big families that spent millions of their private money, with matching federal funds to build the city." He indicated a series of bookcases stuffed with notebooks, albums, and the like. "Most of the old families are long gone now. Mr. Beering thought it important to preserve something of their legacy. And here is the Beering display." He indicated a bookcase crammed with notebooks.
"What's this?" Jeff said, running his finger along a stunning set of heavy leather-bound books on one of the Beering shelves.
"Oh, those are what you might call yearbooks. Mr. Beering started having them made up beginning in 1967 with the unfortunate death of his son Alex in Vietnam."
"Lexa's daddy," Jeff said.
"Yes," Stavros said.
"You knew him, huh?" Jeff said running his finger along the gilded book backs.
"Yes," Stavros said. "Alex was a fine young man."
"How sad," Jeff said sincerely, while noting a gap in the books. He pulled down the first volume, which appeared to be a history of the Beering family from the time of immigration during Civil War times.
"Alex was something of an idealist," Stavros said. "He earned his B.S. in engineering. He also earned an R.O.T.C. commission in the Army. That was all fine, but Mr. Beering hoped he would take over the business from him."
"But he didn't want to?" Jeff ventured, leafing through the book, whose information ended in 1900.
"No he didn't," Stavros said. "He married a young lady, Myra Whiston, whom Mr. Beering did not approve of." Stavros whispered: "The family name was Weisberg, German Jews, but they changed it at Ellis Island." He nodded at this fact, leaving Jeff to conclude that was the source of Beering's disapproval. "Then of course the poor fellow was killed in combat, leaving an only child."
"Lexa," Jeff said.
"Yes."
Jeff replaced the book on its shelf. "The second volume is missing," he told Stavros. "That would be the volume that covers Beering family history from 1900 to 1962, when the first annual yearbooks came out."
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