Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 127368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 637(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 425(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 637(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 425(@300wpm)
“Daniel’s lovely,” Portia said softly.
He better be, I let my expression say for me.
The door opened and two women wearing dove-gray dresses with mandarin collars, white cuffs on the short sleeves and sensible black flats, came in bearing our tea on silver trays.
The tea service, I’d look up later and find was “Pearl” Nymphenburg, which was used exclusively by Bavarian royalty for a century.
But of course.
No scones and cream, instead, lifeless finger sandwiches and painstakingly decorated but completely tasteless petite fours that I could make better blindfolded.
During tea, I didn’t say the many things I wanted to say or ask any of the myriad questions on my mind, because both my sister and stepmother seemed on pins and needles. They both needed to calm down.
And then I’d get into it.
But it would seem the shiver that went down my spine when we passed the gate, not to mention that bolt of electricity when I walked in, were an indication of intuition I didn’t know I had until then.
And that same intuition was telling me it wasn’t going to get any better.
But it could get worse.
I just didn’t know at that time it was going to.
Or how bad it was going to be.
Three
THE WINE ROOM
My bedroom was a feminine extravaganza in the colors of cream, carnation pink and deep, rosy red.
It was mammoth. It was spotless. It had a bed with four posts that was so tall, I had to climb into it using the step beside it, and heavy, highly embellished but workable curtains. The room also had a seating area complete with a puffy, inviting couch in front of the pink marbled fireplace, and a delicate writing desk in the corner.
And the en suite was a dream.
If I were in a hotel, I’d be in seventh heaven, wouldn’t leave the room for the entire week, and instead I’d read a half dozen books, take daily baths, and drink nothing but champagne from breakfast until I fell asleep.
I wasn’t in a hotel, and I didn’t enjoy the idea of liking the choice that was made for me, because this room wasn’t insulting. It was the belated welcome Lou and I should have had when we arrived.
However, the weird part was that an hour ago, a maid had knocked on the door and asked if I needed any help dressing, “Or with your makeup and hair, Miss Ryan?”
Flabbergasted, hopefully politely, I’d declined.
One could take that as a very nice offering from the Alcotts, but who had lady’s maids anymore?
Stylists for special events, sure.
Someone to help you do your hair for dinner at home? No.
But I was ready and it wasn’t time to go down yet, so I grabbed my phone and texted Lou.
Can I come over?
It took mere seconds before she returned, Sure!
I left my room, walked across the hall and down two doors, and knocked on the one I’d watched the maid lead Lou to before I’d entered mine so I’d know where she was.
My windows faced the lawns and forest at the front of the house.
Hers would face the wing that made the other strike of cross.
She opened the door with perfect hair and makeup, but still in her robe.
“Hey,” she greeted.
“I feel like I should leave a note on my door so our guide will know where to find me when they come up to get us,” I replied as she stepped back, and I entered her room.
I stopped a few feet in, closing the door behind me and making the decision to do everything in my power not to let her see my allocated space.
Hers was not as big and it was oppressively filled with furniture, all of it high quality, maybe even priceless, but it was still mismatched. Likely discards from other rooms, or pieces that were too valuable to throw away, but where they used to reside had been updated and they were no longer needed.
It was fashioned into a usable room, the colors and fabrics were all in lovely shades of pale green and blue, with a theme of flowers, but it seemed close, disorganized and suffocating, not airy, artful and appealing.
In other words, I was welcome.
Lou wasn’t.
“Rabidly private, as I said. I guess not a surprise,” Lou noted as she shrugged off her robe and tossed it on a flowered chintz chair to stand unabashed in her underwear like she was backstage at a fashion show.
She reached into the opened wardrobe, and I saw she was unpacked, as I found I’d been after we were escorted to our rooms.
We hadn’t asked them to do that, or not to do it as I’d have preferred.
I wondered what they thought when they put my vibrator into the top drawer of one of the nightstands.
It had been a wild idea to pack it, but I figured I’d need every avenue open to find ways to relax this week, so in it went.