After this unusual exchange, our Sunday meetings have become a regular occurrence. He is exceedingly generous, giving me all manner of books to read, and supplies for making art. He proudly tells me of the talented writers he now publishes—Mr. Ambrose Bierce and Mark Twain.

And then one day, a surprise. Billy is leaving San Francisco for good. He came to the saloon to say farewell. The presence of this fancy gentleman created a stir, and he brought with him a magnificent gift—a set of books so large that a servant or footman carried them to my humble room in Miss Josie’s basement. The large parcel contained a complete set of engravings of America’s birds by Mr. John James Audubon. The volumes stand an arm’s length high! The sheer beauty of the work took my breath away—herons and swans and egrets with graciously curving necks, songbirds in flight, shore fowl in their habitat.

I was overwhelmed by such a grand treasure, but he assured me that he had little interest in pictures of birds, and he would rather see them in the possession of someone who would appreciate them.

Tucked behind the page was a letter in different handwriting.

To my treasured friend Colleen, in appreciation of our friendship, please accept the gift of these volumes, which contain the complete set of hand-colored engravings by Mr. John James Audubon. I know they will find a home with you, whose accomplishments might one day rival his own.

In appreciation and respect,

William Randolph Hearst

Natalie looked up from her reading. “I don’t know what to say. It’s a wonderful story. Do you think it’s true? Could this letter be authentic?”

“I wish I knew,” he said. “My father was so very young when he lost her. He did recall her beautiful pictures, and he spoke of ‘Mam’s birds,’ but assumed they were actual birds, or perhaps her own drawings. He was too young to know what she was about.”

“If this is true, she was acquainted with William Randolph Hearst. Could he truly have given her a set of The Birds of America?”

Grandy focused on the journal drawings. “Her renderings of birds look exactly like the Audubon versions.”

Shadows gathered in the gardens, bringing the evening chill with them. “Let’s go inside,” Natalie said. “We can finish reading later.”

Cleo had closed up shop for the evening. Natalie made a pot of tea and sent out for dinner—Moroccan lentil soup and sourdough—and they sat at Grandy’s table. She found a couple of replica editions of Audubon’s works on the shelf and showed them to her grandfather. Some of Colleen’s drawings were direct copies, as if she had been learning from the master himself.

Natalie sent a message to Tess, asking if it was possible to find out if the Hearst family had ever owned a copy of the seminal work.