Book Five, Chapter 68: Silverware
Mr. Kirst led us to a small dining room with a single window.
"You’ll have to forgive me; the formal dining room is damaged beyond repair," he said.
The (informal?) dining room we were in was probably the nicest room in the house. There were very few signs of a hundred years without affection; in fact, it only looked like it had been abandoned for less than fifty years. It was practically in mint condition. If we had to sleep in the Manor for this storyline, this would be the room to do it in.
There was a large round wooden table with place settings ready to go and little name cards for each of us, showing us where to sit.
"I chose a round table because I want this to be a conversation. I don’t want you to try to defer to me just because I’m your host," Mr. Kirst said. "And I hope you’ll notice that the silverware is genuine silver. There could be nothing less for a conversation like the one we’re about to have."
As we walked in, we were still On-Screen, but Kimberly managed to discretely elbow me and point to the painting on the wall of the dining room. It wasn’t quite the painting we had brought. It wasn’t The Omen.
It was a larger version of The Omen. Where the one we had purchased at the flea market only showed the woman’s head and enough of her torso to display her necklace, this one was a full-body portrait of her standing next to a window with a beautiful watery vista.
Still, the silver necklace was probably the most detailed and beautiful part of the painting.
It had no inscription or title that I could see, and when I asked Mr. Kirst about it, he simply said, "Oh, yes, that came with the house. You’d be shocked to know that the looters actually left some good stuff. Perhaps the best home defense is a reputation for being haunted."