Bond Gwenda - The Lost Legacy

S tephen stepped over the low iron fence and past a sign that read DO NOT WALK ON THE GRASS . He wanted to get a better look at an old tombstone. The granite monument was topped with sharp spikes and inscribed in a language he couldnt read. He didnt even recognize the alphabet, much less the individual words.

This was a week of firsts: the first time hed ever been to New York, the first time hed ever been to a graveyard, the first time hed ever been to a funeral. The first time hed ever known anyone who had died.

One of the many mourners gathered for his grandmothers funeral walked by, then paused when he noticed Stephen. The man was enormous, with shoulders as broad as a football linemans, which threatened to burst out of his fancy suit jacket. His hair was brushed back from his forehead and swooped up over each of his ears.

Fool of a boy. Not all who cross that fence find their way back. Who do you belong to? The mans nostrils flared as he leaned over the fence and gave Stephen a hearty sniff. Ah. You are a Lawson. The prodigals son, I imagine. But... hmm, theres something odd about you.

Was the man implying that Stephen smelled bad? Before he could think better of it, he took a whiff back. Sorry, Stephen said, I cant tell who you are.

The enormous mans eyes narrowed. Um, oops.

Stephen! Over here! His dad called from beside the family mausoleum, waving him over.

Sorry, I have to Stephen pointed toward his dad and made a speedy escape back over the fence and away.

The family mausoleum was something else new. Stephen hadnt known that somewhere in a cemetery tucked away in view of New York Citys skyline sat a marble building with the word LAWSON inscribed above its brass door. It was crowned with a giant mortar and pestle and carved with chef s knives and cutting boards and other instrumentssome he didnt even recognizeof his familys traditional trade. The mausoleums heavy door was closed now. His grandmother had been interred behind it following a brief, nearly wordless ceremony that had ended a little while ago. Chef Nana never had been big on speeches.

Stephen picked his way among the mourners. They all seemed taller or shorter or skinnier or somehow sharper than people back home in Chicago.

I told you to stick with me, buddy, his dad said as he got close. His dad was a welcome bit of normality, stocky and compact, with short brown hair darker than Stephens own sandy blond. He looped his arm around Stephens shoulders. And read the signs for once. This cemetery has some, well, unusual corners to it, and you dont want to get lost. Or, uh, step on anyones toes.

Tell me about it. That guy smelled me and called me odd.

Really? His dad gave a nervous half laugh and steered them forward. There are some people I want you to meet. And a couple of things I need to prepare you for.

Okay, Stephen said, though he didnt feel much like meeting anybody, especially not any of these strange people. He wasnt the odd one in this crowd. His dad had sprung a lot on him after they got the news about Chef Nana, like apparently they would be staying in New York so his dad could take her job. Sure, it was summer vacation. And Stephen had been a kind of loner at his school. But Chicago was still home. Mostly he wanted to find a quiet space and think about his grandmother, try to figure out how to believe that he would never see her again, never receive another letter from her, never hear her goofy stories about the hotels monsters again.

The knot of people his dad led him to werent quite as weird as the other mourners. Well, except that the man who stuck his hand out for Stephen to shake was dressed in some kind of uniform with braids and epaulets at the shoulders. He was also big, if nowhere near the size of the man who had sniffed Stephen.

You must be Nanettes famous grandson, the legendary artist Stephen. Im Julio. I worked with your grandmother at the hotel.

A stern-looking woman in a sober black business suit smiled gently at Stephen. We all did. Im Carmen Gutierrez, Julios wife.

And his boss, Stephens dad said. His tone was light, but Stephen knew his dad well enough to know it was a strain for him to keep it that way. Carmen and I have known each other since we were younger than you are now. We grew up at the New Harmonia together. She practically runs the whole place these days.

The New Harmonia was the exclusive New York hotel where Chef Nana had run the kitchen, where his dad would run the kitchen now, the hotel where they would live. Stephen hadnt even seen the place yet, so he was still getting used to the idea. Everything was happening too fast.

A short boy about Stephens age stepped in front of Carmen as if he had every right in the world to interrupt. He had close-cropped red hair and glasses, and he wore a suit complete with a black bow tie. I am Ivanos Mercutio La Doyt. And now you have the great honor of meeting my parents, Roman Horatio and Rafaela Katarina La Doyt, whom you are already in debt to for

Therell be time for that later, Ivan, Carmen said, stern again. Julio needs to get your parents to the park.

Two more adults, pulling suitcases, had appeared beside the Gutierrezes. The slight man wore a sharp suit and a pair of glasses with black frames, and the tall woman a sleek black dress and glasses of her own. The woman gave Stephen an encouraging smile. We will do our best to get back soon.

Stephen had no idea what that had to do with him, and the couple had already turned to leave. His dad called after them, Good luck, and thank you.

The man nodded over his shoulder.

Who are they again?

Ivan said, They are the New Harmonias masters of hotel detection.