STARRY STARRY NIGHT
By Pamela Downs
Chapter One
One particularly miserable, drizzly Alexandria morning, Vincent Barrow burped. He held sentry just inside the 'new room' of George Washington's Mansion, Mount Vernon, adjusting the inseam of his royal blue britches. His long, wavy brown hair hung tied with a silk ribbon. Vincent’s authentic English accent made him a lively docent for the group of attractive women, in their late twenties. They were giggly, whispering about the tightness of his clothing. Vincent visibly enjoyed the attention.
"General Washington was both architect and decorator of the mansion. He wrote in his journal that the color green, of the 'new room,’ was very pleasing to the eye. The shade is verdigris. The room is set for a formal dessert party with cakes, Jellos and fruits. In colonial times, Jello was called simply ‘gel’.”
A willowy redhead reached across the rope queue and snatched a silver dinner bell off of the display. She impishly rang it. Vincent’s thoughts muddled with a scene from a campy old movie where the King of Jelly clutched a plate of Jello. The king resembled a chimp, not unlike Vincent’s identical twin brother, Virgil.
“Now ladies, if you’ll proceed into the formal foyer, the next docent will exhibit the key to the Bastille.”
As the redhead passed by, she delicately raised Vincent’s hand and placed the bell in his palm.
“Thank you young lady.”
She seemed somehow familiar, but no, not really. An all-American looking blonde called out to her. "Hurry Marie, look where General Washington placed the front door, it's directly under the stairs, just like on the John Bee"
Vincent couldn’t resist rounding the corner. “What is the John Bee, ladies?”
They giggled. The ladies in their tour group moved on to the next room. The blonde winked and wiggled out of the foyer, catching up with the others.
Marie stood at the front door, grinning at him.
“I’m Vincent.”
In an exotic European accent, she whispered, “Marie.” as she pointed to herself. “Nice to meet you.” She nodded toward him.
“Very lovely to meet you Marie. An historically connotative name for a classic beauty.”
She sensed her face flushing, while realizing this guy was laying it on awfully thick--but she hoped he’d keep it up.
Vincent asked, “So tell me Miss Capulet, what is the John Bee? An Italian castle?”
“Italian castle called John? I think not. Giovanni del castello .”
“So you live in an Italian castle?”
“Hardly. Not many of those around in the United States.”
Vincent removed a recipe for Martha Washington’s cake, from a stack on a tea table. He groped inside his waistcoat and retrieved a pen. Handing them to Marie, he said, “Write your address down for me.”
“I think not.” she refused to accept them.
“Where do you live?”
“We’re just passing through. Where do you recommend for a hotel?”
“The Barrow Twin Inn. My brother and I own a little bed and breakfast.”
“Really? Then why are you working here?”
“For fun. I’m a volunteer. What type of work do you do? No, wait, let me guess. Nurse?”
She rolled her eyes.
“Garbage collector?”
Marie giggled. “Close. I’m a pilot.”
“Oh, so you’re here on a layover?”
“Something like that. I need a new um...airplane.”
“So you don’t work commercially?”
“I’m an independent contractor.”
“What type of aircraft do you fly?”
She stepped closer. “Open your mouth.”
He did.
“Wide...wider...”
Vincent complied.
Marie tugged his upper lip while drawing his chin down. Nice sharp incisors.
“Vampires.” she let go of him and stepped back.
A low growl emanated from the Englishman. “You fly vampires?”
“Save a horse, ride a vampire.”
“So you are a cowgirl and a pilot?”
“Giddeup...” she purred.
A group of Japanese businessman filled the foyer. Vincent realized he’d abandoned his post in the new room. As Hilda, the
By Pamela Downs
Chapter One
One particularly miserable, drizzly Alexandria morning, Vincent Barrow burped. He held sentry just inside the 'new room' of George Washington's Mansion, Mount Vernon, adjusting the inseam of his royal blue britches. His long, wavy brown hair hung tied with a silk ribbon. Vincent’s authentic English accent made him a lively docent for the group of attractive women, in their late twenties. They were giggly, whispering about the tightness of his clothing. Vincent visibly enjoyed the attention.
"General Washington was both architect and decorator of the mansion. He wrote in his journal that the color green, of the 'new room,’ was very pleasing to the eye. The shade is verdigris. The room is set for a formal dessert party with cakes, Jellos and fruits. In colonial times, Jello was called simply ‘gel’.”
A willowy redhead reached across the rope queue and snatched a silver dinner bell off of the display. She impishly rang it. Vincent’s thoughts muddled with a scene from a campy old movie where the King of Jelly clutched a plate of Jello. The king resembled a chimp, not unlike Vincent’s identical twin brother, Virgil.
“Now ladies, if you’ll proceed into the formal foyer, the next docent will exhibit the key to the Bastille.”
As the redhead passed by, she delicately raised Vincent’s hand and placed the bell in his palm.
“Thank you young lady.”
She seemed somehow familiar, but no, not really. An all-American looking blonde called out to her. "Hurry Marie, look where General Washington placed the front door, it's directly under the stairs, just like on the John Bee"
Vincent couldn’t resist rounding the corner. “What is the John Bee, ladies?”
They giggled. The ladies in their tour group moved on to the next room. The blonde winked and wiggled out of the foyer, catching up with the others.
Marie stood at the front door, grinning at him.
“I’m Vincent.”
In an exotic European accent, she whispered, “Marie.” as she pointed to herself. “Nice to meet you.” She nodded toward him.
“Very lovely to meet you Marie. An historically connotative name for a classic beauty.”
She sensed her face flushing, while realizing this guy was laying it on awfully thick--but she hoped he’d keep it up.
Vincent asked, “So tell me Miss Capulet, what is the John Bee? An Italian castle?”
“Italian castle called John? I think not. Giovanni del castello .”
“So you live in an Italian castle?”
“Hardly. Not many of those around in the United States.”
Vincent removed a recipe for Martha Washington’s cake, from a stack on a tea table. He groped inside his waistcoat and retrieved a pen. Handing them to Marie, he said, “Write your address down for me.”
“I think not.” she refused to accept them.
“Where do you live?”
“We’re just passing through. Where do you recommend for a hotel?”
“The Barrow Twin Inn. My brother and I own a little bed and breakfast.”
“Really? Then why are you working here?”
“For fun. I’m a volunteer. What type of work do you do? No, wait, let me guess. Nurse?”
She rolled her eyes.
“Garbage collector?”
Marie giggled. “Close. I’m a pilot.”
“Oh, so you’re here on a layover?”
“Something like that. I need a new um...airplane.”
“So you don’t work commercially?”
“I’m an independent contractor.”
“What type of aircraft do you fly?”
She stepped closer. “Open your mouth.”
He did.
“Wide...wider...”
Vincent complied.
Marie tugged his upper lip while drawing his chin down. Nice sharp incisors.
“Vampires.” she let go of him and stepped back.
A low growl emanated from the Englishman. “You fly vampires?”
“Save a horse, ride a vampire.”
“So you are a cowgirl and a pilot?”
“Giddeup...” she purred.
A group of Japanese businessman filled the foyer. Vincent realized he’d abandoned his post in the new room. As Hilda, the
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