April of Enchantment (Sweetly Contemporary Collection) (12 page)

“The two things more or less go together, don’t you agree?”

“It seems as if they should.” For no good reason she could think of, Laura found herself flushing. She turned away, bending over the tissue-paper-filled boxes, asking over her shoulder, “Have you seen the chandeliers?”

“Your mother described them to me over the phone, but I haven’t had a look at them.”

It was all the excuse she needed. With consummate care, she lifted out the layers of tissue, unwrapping one brilliant, finely cut luster after another. Next came curved arms and cupped bowls of crystal, and ropes of faceted beads — in all, enough to make a glittering fixture nearly five feet in width, with a drop of that much again from the ceiling. It was large, but of the size necessary if it was not to be lost in the cavernous ceilings of the enormous rooms. In the other box, though she did not unpack it, was an exact duplicate.

Laura held up one of the lusters, shaped like an inverted fleur-de-lis, letting it catch the prism colors of the light. “It’s a lovely thing,” she said.

“Yes,” he answered, his gaze moving over the curve of her cheek and the golden sheen of her hair spilling over her shoulders before he turned it to the luster she held.

The timbre of his voice was disturbing. With fingers suddenly clumsy, Laura began to rewrap the sections of the chandelier. Justin dropped to one knee beside her, reaching to help. They worked in silence for long moments. She searched her mind for something to say, and was relieved when Justin spoke instead.

“I’m grateful to your mother for finding these things for me.”

“She has worked hard to unearth them. You can be certain they are authentic Roman family heirlooms, or at least as certain as anyone can be when the proof depends on the memory of older relatives.”

“I’m satisfied of that.”

“Larger pieces have been harder to come by, although she is trying to arrange for you to buy the dining table that matches the punka, and I believe it’s eighteen chairs.”

“Eighteen?”

She smiled. “They used to have big families.”

“And those guests you were talking about,” he added.

“That’s right, some of whom came to stay a few days and never left again.”

“That’s what I call outstaying your welcome.”

“You would think so, but I suppose there was always room for one more. Aunt So-and-so could help look after the children and teach the younger girl how to embroider or keep moths out of their carpets, or else sit with Grannie and talk to her while she rocked on the gallery. Uncle This-or-that could take the young boys fishing or show them how to carve whistles out of the bamboo cane.”

“Another person to take care of.”

“Yes,” Laura said, glancing at him with mischief in her eyes, “but at least the lady of the house would not have had to be all alone out here.”

“There was that to be said for it,” he agreed, his face unnaturally grave.

Laura sat back on her heels. There was an idea she had been turning over ever since her mother had first mentioned the twin chandeliers to her. Now that the atmosphere between Justin and herself was easier, it seemed as good a time as any to broach it.

“I’ve been thinking about the double parlors. Do you have any preference about the way they are done?”

“Not especially.”

“What do you think of making them mirror images of each other?”

“Is that the way they were, do you think?”

She frowned with a shake of her head. “I’m not sure.”

“Don’t tell me the famous diary doesn’t say?” He lifted a sardonic brow.

“There isn’t much about the parlors, probably because they weren’t used too often. There are a few lines to say how magnificent they were when they were decorated for a ball. The walls were white, and the furniture was rosewood upholstered in gold brocatelle. Oh, yes, and there was a mirror at each end. That’s about it.”

“The marble mantels in each room are matched pieces, and there are the chandeliers,” he mused.

“I had in mind a large mirror, like a pier mirror, reaching from just above the floor to the ceiling on each end, between the windows in the center of each wall. If these line up exactly with the chandeliers, the effect, when you stand in the middle of the room, is an optical illusion. The mirrors reflect their images over and over, so that the eye sees an endless line of chandeliers marching down the center of a room that stretches to infinity.”

“The effect with the mirrors can be done,” he said thoughtfully, “but I’m not certain about making the two rooms a mirror reflection of each other, if by that you mean buying duplicates of each piece of furniture.”

“Why not?”

“The front parlor has windows facing the drive, but the opposite side of the second parlor is a solid wall.”

“Oh,” she said, her expression fading. “So it is.”

“But it was still a good idea,” he said, his tone soft.

She sent him a small smile. “It’s been done before; I don’t suppose we have to have it at Crapemyrtle.”

“No,” he agreed.

She tilted her head to one side. “It may even have been a little gimmicky for the house.”

“It’s possible.”

“I’ll think of something else,” she asserted.

His laugh rang out then. “I don’t doubt it. I don’t doubt it at all.”

With the chandelier packed away once more, Laura got to her feet, brushing the dust from her skirt. Justin came upright also.

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you,” he said, a tentative note in his voice.

Laura was instantly on her guard. “Yes?”

“I know that you are just coming to the busiest and most complicated part of your job here at the house, and I know that your mother is already watching for suitable antiques to furnish it, but I would like for you to coordinate the two, and see to the complete decoration.”

“You mean that you want me to suggest color schemes and furniture arrangements for the rooms?”

“I mean I want you to buy whatever is necessary to make this house look the way it should, whether it’s chairs, tables, beds, bureaus, or footstools — everything right down to the draperies, curtains, linens, even the towels and soap in the bathrooms. That is, if you will.”

“But — what about Myra?” The question had to be asked.

“What about her?”

“She won’t like it if another woman furnishes her home for her, and I really can’t blame her.”

He shook his head. “If you think she would be interested in the details, you are mistaken. Oh, she might buy a knickknack or two, but she wouldn’t dream of tackling the whole job. If we had built a new home, she would have turned the decorating of it over to a design shop, and I see no difference here, except that it’s even more important for the job to be done right.”

“She didn’t like it when I opposed her on the game room and the pool.”

“That was just a whim; she gave them up easily enough when she understood my objections.”

“I appreciate the compliment —” she began.

He did not allow her to finish. “If it’s interference you are worried about, I can assure you there will be none. You will have carte blanche. You can choose whatever you like and send the bills to me.”

“It isn’t only that,” she said.

“Money, then? I know this isn’t a usual requirement, and I certainly expect to pay you extra for the service.”

“No! Listen to me,” she insisted, her voice rising above his. “I can furnish this house as nearly as possible like it was, or else as I think it should be. But I’m not certain that you would like it or that it would be suited to the tastes of your fiancée.”

“Don’t worry about that.”

“That’s easy for you to say, but how can I not? It was only a short time ago that you didn’t want me as designer-consultant to the project, and now you are giving me the power to complete the job down to the smallest detail. That’s quite a change.”

“Consider it an endorsement of your abilities.”

“Before I can do that, I have to convince myself that this trial you insisted upon is really over.”

A frown drew his brows together. “Good Lord, Laura! Don’t you know that you would have been out long ago if I hadn’t been more than satisfied with your work?”

“I thought so,” she answered, “but you never put it in so many words.”

“Then let me take this opportunity to set the record straight,” he told her, his voice firm. “I’m more than satisfied, I’m proud of the job you have done here. You wanted a showcase for your efforts. As far as I’m concerned, you’ve got it.”

It was a vindication. She wanted to reap the triumph, but felt instead only warm joy and anticipation. With great simplicity she said, “I’ll do my very best to finish the interior as it should be.”

For a long moment, his dark eyes met hers, and there seemed to be a promise only half-concealed in their gold-flecked depths. The next instant, he was looking past her to where a green-tinged darkness was gathering beyond the windows.

“It looks like it’s coming up a storm. We had better get a move on if we are going to beat it back to town.” As if in answer, his words were accented by a low-pitched rumble of distant thunder.

Though they were scarcely aware of it inside the stout, thick walls of the old house, the leaves of the oaks outside were tossing, displaying their lighter undersides as they were twisted in the strong, gusting wind. They must have spent longer than she had thought over the heirlooms, Laura told herself — either that, or this storm was approaching with incredible swiftness. Even as they watched, the shadows in the room grew deeper, closing around them until their faces were no more than pale blurs in the darkness.

“I think you’re right,” Laura said, and moved quickly ahead of him from the library into the hall, turning toward the entrance.

It was as they opened the front door that they felt the full force of the wind. It swept under the overhanging gallery with a banshee wail, carrying bits of trash and leaves in its strength, filling the air with grit and the white swirl of spent blossoms. It tore at their clothing, sending Laura’s hair flying like a witch’s tresses, slapping the collar of Justin’s sports shirt against his cheek. Across the lawn, the thick, dark-green hedge was bent nearly to the ground. Lightning flashed with an unearthly silver-gold glow that, once started, seemed unable to stop, though it was followed immediately by a booming vibration of thunder so strong it shook the ground and made the columns of the great house shiver on their bases.

Laura started across the gallery floor. Justin shot out his hand to catch her arm, pulling her to a halt. “Wait. I think it’s too late to outrun it. We had better stay here.”

Hard on his words, there came a fierce surging in the wind. Overhead, the limbs of the live oaks creaked and groaned, and the timbers of the house behind them squeaked, making snapping noises as if in sympathy. A branch, its leaves fluttering like helpless, clutching fingers, came flying from nowhere to skitter across the gallery floor. Justin and Laura retreated back to the shelter of the open doorway.

“You don’t think —” Laura began.

He gave a short nod, his dark gaze scanning the dark, roiling clouds and the blown debris whirling past them. “It could be a tornado.”

The words were nearly drowned in a deafening crackle followed by an endless rending, wrenching sound. Out on the drive, in the glittering brightness of the storm, they saw one of the great old oaks waver, as if seeking with its enormous limbs for balance; then, with a thunderous roar, it toppled, gathering speed, falling with a mighty crash across the gravel of the drive.

“Oh, no,” Laura breathed, a sound of distress. A tree a hundred and forty years old, planted when the house was built, an ancient and venerable oak of stature and dignity lost, gone beyond recovery. At least it had come down without striking either car. There was that much for which they could be thankful.

“Oh, yes,” Justin said, his voice grim.

And then, as the lightning flashed in the swollen blackness of the storm-battered sky once more, she saw it. The oak had been at the very end of the drive, a monster whose moss-laden limbs had been as thick as most trees. Its descent had carried the topmost branches over the hedge while the thickest portion of its trunk lay across the opening that gave onto the black-topped road beyond. It would take men armed with power saws several hours to clear such an obstruction so Justin and Laura could get their cars out of the drive. They were trapped, and the tornado was upon them.

Six