Sisterchicks in Gondolas! (5 page)

I was out of breath when we reached the top. I set down my luggage and leaned against the wall.

“You okay?” Steph asked both of us.

I nodded and forced a smile. Sue wheezed a breathless, “Great!” Neither of us was willing to give Steph any reason to lump us into the category of incapable, as she had with her “gray-haired” mother.

Steph showed us two more keys as we stood by the front door. “You need both of these because the door has multiple locks. Open the top one first. Like this.”

Sue and I watched and nodded. The door opened inward, and as it did, we gawked at the ornately decorated, spacious room and didn’t move.

“Sweet peaches!” Sue exclaimed.

“Are you sure you didn’t just break into a back door to a museum?” I asked.

Steph chuckled. “No, this is the apartment. Most of the furniture was replaced in the late 1700s and early 1800s, and of course all the light fixtures are from the early 1900s. Some of the marble floors are original. This is the entry room.”

“Don’t you mean the dining room?” Sue touched the thick, highly polished dining room table that dominated the center of the room with eight ornate, high-back chairs tucked into their proper places. Two of the walls had glass-fronted bookcases while framed pen and ink drawings of scenes from the Old Testament hung from the other wall. Even with the commanding table in the center, plenty of space remained to navigate the entry room with our suitcases.

“No, there’s a separate dining room. But first come through this way to the sitting room.”

Steph led us into a magnificent room, as grand as any palatial parlor from castles I’d visited years ago in Germany and Austria.

“Are you sure this is where we’re staying? I mean, are you certain this is the rental apartment?” I asked.

Steph nodded. “This is Venezia. It’s like this everywhere. Too much, isn’t it?”

“It’s amazing.”

The sitting room was large enough to seat twenty people with space left for another twenty to stand. The beautiful, inlaid mosaic design on the marble floors was mesmerizing. On two of the walls a life-size fresco filled the area with noble grandeur. The left wall was covered with a faded tapestry that I’m sure had a detailed story all its own. The wall directly ahead of us was framed with three windows that had to be ten feet high and came complete with billowing sheer drapes.

“Look at the ceiling,” Sue murmured, head back, gaze fixed on the decorative trim and the painting of a serene blue sky and fluffed-up clouds where three floating cherubs reached for each other with pudgy hands. “Who painted this?”

“Who knows?” Steph said with a shrug. “I’d guess it was one of the many greats who turned Venetian homes into their private art schools. The dining room is this way.”

Sue and I didn’t move. We were still captivated by the beautiful ceiling.

“It’s like the Sistine Chapel,” I said.

Steph chuckled over her shoulder. “Not exactly. It’s nice, but you’ll soon see so much of this kind of Byzantine and Romanesque art that it’ll all start to look the same.” Motioning to one of the three couches in the room, she said, “That sofa with all the old silk pillows covering it is the most comfortable for sleeping.”

I did a quick count of the luxurious chairs and couches
in the room. Eleven. And three small, square tables set up like our version of game tables or card tables. Only nothing was “folding” about these tables with their carved wooden pedestals and inlaid wood tops.

Sue and I drew close as we headed for the dining room. “Did you have any idea this place was so extravagant?” she asked.

“None at all. I thought it would be an old building, but since it was ‘restored,’ I assumed it would be a modern apartment inside with chrome appliances and plastic dishes like the time-share condo my parents used to go to in Aspen.”

As soon as we stepped into the dining room, I knew we wouldn’t be dining on plastic dishes. Two ornate china cabinets offered us the finest in stemware, china, and crystal carafes. Another solid table with carved legs and six matching chairs sat under the most amazing glass light fixture I’d ever seen. The long plumes of glass fanned from the top of the chandelier like elegant ostrich feathers. The perfectly balanced glass holders for the five light bulbs that rested under the fanned-out plumes transformed the center of the room into a carnival of light the same way a spewing fountain in the center of a town plaza brings life. Above the radiant light fixture the painted ceiling portrayed another scene of floating angel babies. Built into the front wall, between two more ten-foot windows, sat a stately working fireplace with a marble mantle. “I feel like I have to sit
down.” Sue steadied herself by grasping the back of a chair as she stared at the high ceiling.

Steph glanced around as if trying to see what Sue saw. “The floor is uneven under the table so be careful when you walk around the backside. It shouldn’t be a problem, but just know that it’s permanently sloped due to the building’s settling. Are you ready to see the kitchen and bedrooms?”

“Do you want to wait here?” I asked Sue.

“No, I’m ready. I’ve just never seen anything like this in my life. I can’t believe we get to stay here.”

As if a breather for our senses, the kitchen was mild. No painting by undiscovered masters appeared on the ceiling or walls. Everything was simple. Sue couldn’t stop running her hand over the marble top of the kitchen table. The table was rectangular and large enough to fit six chairs around it comfortably.

“Do y’all know how much this grade of marble goes for in the U.S.?” Sue asked. “I mean, even a cutting-board size of this sort of marble. This is incredible.”

Steph told Sue to brace herself before she showed her the large sink, also in marble.

To this day I don’t think Sue has recovered from the marble overdose. Especially because the marble flooring continued through the rest of the apartment. With Steph at the helm, we floated down the hall.

“This is the linen closet,” she said. “You’ll have to make up all the beds because our maid service just cleans the
towels and sheets, but she doesn’t make the beds. Don’t ask me why; it’s odd, I know. I’ve asked her before, but she refuses. So now we just tell all the guests they have to make up the beds.”

“No problem,” I said.

As we continued the tour, I counted five moderate-sized and moderately decorated bedrooms before we viewed two tiny “water closets.” Just when I thought we had made a complete circle back to the entry room, Steph opened a side door and invited us into the ultimate princess bedroom.

“This is my favorite room,” she said. “I love the pale green color of all the furniture. I call it the ‘Beauty and the Beast’ room. You know, the video in which all the castle staff have been turned into furniture, and they start to sing and dance when Belle shows up.”

I vaguely remembered watching the animated video many years ago. When I looked again at the matronly bureau drawers, I saw what Steph meant. The furniture in this princess bedroom did appear to have some dormant performing skills hidden beneath the pale green paint.

The floor space had to be comparable to the gigantic sitting room we had viewed earlier. At the far end of the magnificent room, double-slatted doors opened to the balcony I’d viewed from the street. Bright afternoon sunlight streamed in when Steph threw open the shuttered doors. Sue gave a happy little sound when she saw the piano.

“Do you play?” Steph gave the keys a playful plunk.

“A little,” Sue said modestly.

“She used to teach piano lessons,” I said. “All three of her grown children are very accomplished. Her oldest son went to college on a music scholarship.”

Sue headed for the piano without adding any details. That’s when I remembered they had sold the piano when they moved into the new house. This would be a treat for her to play again.

I checked out the twin beds and matching vanity table, complete with rounded mirror and padded, pullout seat. On the opposite wall was a tall dresser that reminded me of a dress form for a broad, buxom woman.

Sue played a light, airy tune on the piano, and the room filled with an enchanting happiness.

“Lovely,” Steph said.

“Keep playing,” I urged, lowering myself to the edge of one of the beds. “It’s the perfect music for this room. Look at the detail on these headboards and footboards. Hand-painted, no less.”

“I know,” Steph agreed.

As Sue closed her eyes and let her fingers express her feelings in music, I walked across the room to check out the balcony. My estimations were correct; we could fit a couple of chairs on the balcony, sit in the sun, and soak up the gorgeous view of the canal that ran the length of our street. I would be happy to sit there for hours and watch all
the quiet activity of this peaceful neighborhood.

Sue finished the music with a run of high notes fading slowly as she barely touched the keys.

“That was beautiful,” I said.

“Good to see someone using that old piano,” Steph said. “I hate to break this up, but the last rooms I need to show you are the main bathroom and the storage closet. Are you ready to see them?”

Sue and I completed the tour with an introduction to an elongated bathroom that had a shower attachment inside the tiled tub. It was the most updated part of the apartment since indoor plumbing obviously hadn’t been part of the original palace floor plan.

At the end off the hall was the final door Steph opened. “The space under the stairs is where you’ll find extra cleaning supplies.”

“Where do the stairs lead?” I asked.

“To a small space on the roof. You can take laundry up there if you want to dry it quickly. You saw the washing machine in the kitchen, right? Although in summer your clothes will dry just as quickly indoors once you open the shutters at both ends and let the breeze through. That’s the advantage of being on the third floor.”

I poked my head into the storage area and tried to see where the stairs led, but all was dark after the first four steps.

“Can you think of any questions? You have my contact information, right? And you understood my instructions
earlier about getting the trash down to the street level before eight on Tuesday morning. What have I forgotten? Oh, the name of the restaurant where you can take your group tonight. I’ll write that down. And anything you find in the kitchen to eat is yours.”

We said ciao to Steph and meandered back into the kitchen to figure out what resources we had available. The refrigerator was small and narrow like most European refrigerators. I checked inside and found a few condiments, some Roma tomatoes still connected to the vine, and two waxed cardboard boxes full of fresh green beans.

Sue opened a cupboard door on the decorated wooden sideboard. “We have pasta. Lotsa pasta. And some olive oil and garlic cloves.”

“Good. That means we have enough to eat dinner here. We can do our grocery shopping in the morning nice and early. What should we do next? Take our luggage into the princess suite?”

“Slight problem, Jenna. Did you count beds while we were on our tour?”

“No.”

“There are five bedrooms. Each of the five bedrooms has only one bed, except the first one and the princess room.”

“Is this a trick question?”

“No, there’s nothing tricky about it. We have a total of seven beds.”

“Seven beds for seven ‘brothers,’ ” I quipped.

“Right. And no beds for the cooks.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. ‘Oh.’ Where are you and I supposed to sleep?”

“Well …”

“You know what, Jenna? I wonder if that’s why Steph pointed out the comfortable couch in the sitting room. She knew two people would need to use those couches as beds.”

“Okay, so you and I will sleep on the couches. It’s only for the first few nights while the men are here. When they leave, we get the princess suite all to ourselves. What do you think?”

Sue didn’t look thrilled.

Just then a breeze skimmed across the marble floors.

“Ahh.” I closed my eyes and felt the swirling air across my face. “God is breathing His blessing on us.”

Sue pulled up her unruly hair into a bunch with her left hand, letting the coolness of the room minister to her perspiring neck. “You’re right,” she said slowly. “Just being here is an extravagant blessing. I don’t know why the thought of sleeping on the couch got to me the way it did.”

“I do.”

Sue looked amused. “You do? You know what’s going on in my psyche? Tell me.”

“You’ve been sleeping on far too many couches and
chairs in waiting rooms and doctors’ offices over the past few years. Sleeping on anything but a bed means ‘unsettled’ to you. It means you can’t really relax. It means you’re on duty and that you’re out in the open and at any moment someone may wake you, and you’ll have to get up and manage more trauma.”

Sue twisted her closed lips into the kind of pressed-together scowl she made when she was trying not to cry. “You’re right.” She let down her hair and sunk into one of the nearby chairs.

“This is a new season for you, Sue. For both of us. Couches can now mean sleepover fun or adventure and happy times. Not all couches are cursed.”

Sue nodded slowly. “You’re right. New beginnings. A season of refreshing. Isn’t that what we decided this trip was going to be for both of us? Jumping into the deep end.”

“Yes. New beginnings. Refreshing. And sleeping on couches for a few nights.”

“I can do that.” She sounded as if she needed a little more convincing. But, as I’d seen her do many times during the past few years, Sue stood and put on her determined face. She could tough her way through any difficult situation. Didn’t mean she liked it. But she pushed hard and always got through.

“We should make the beds first,” she said with an air of
authority. “Then they’ll be ready whenever the guys arrive. After that, why don’t you and I go to the restaurant Steph suggested for lunch?”

“Sounds good to me.” It struck me that whenever any of us come into unfamiliar situations that feel out of control, our instinct is to try to take control. Sue was doing a pretty good job of finding her place, and if taking control of the schedule helped her to settle in, that was fine with me. Strangely, I didn’t feel as if our circumstances were out of control. I felt very much at home. I loved this place. What if I decided I wanted to live here for the rest of my life?