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"Our decision? But . . there are so Many things to decide. For example, where will we live?"
"You'll live here, of course," Tony said. He materialized in the office doorway so quickly, he was like a spirit that had instantly taken shape. "Sorry to interrupt, but I came in to get something and just overheard your last question."
"Here?" I looked at Logan. He was smiling like a Cheshire cat. "What does he mean?"
"We were saving that as a final surprise," Logan said.
We? I thought. We were saving that as a final surprise? He was already thinking and acting like Tony's partner.
"What final surprise?" They looked at each other like two conspirators. Did Tony just happen to arrive at the right moment or had he been standing outside the office door throughout our conversation waiting for his we? I wondered.
"If you'l1 just follow along," Tony said, "I'll show you." Logan reached down and took my hand.
"Come on, silly. Let's see what he has to show us. Come on." He smiled at me.
I rose slowly, reluctantly, knowing I was being led to a view of my own future. We would all-be filled with trepidation if we could suddenly see the rest of our lives, I thought Right now I was being swept along, carried by a momentum that was not my own Like a marionette, I-held Logan's hand and we followed Tony up the marble staircase.
"You remember these rooms on the south wing," Tony explained as he turned right at the top of the stairway. "We never even opened them for guests. My grandfather and grandmother lived on this side of Farthy. I always wanted these rooms to remain something special." He turned and looked at me. "I hope you feel that way, too, Heaven."
"I don't understand what you mean, Tony," I said. He simply smiled and a light sprang into his pale blue eyes, bright like the golden flame of an oil lamp burning securely in its clear glass globe. Then he went to the large mahogany doors that were usually kept closed and opened them with a grand flourish, thrusting them back and stepping away to let me see.
"The suite of Mr. and Mrs. Logan Stonewall," he announced.
"What?" I folded my arms across my body protectively and turned to Logan. He stood there, still smiling like a Cheshire cat. "What is this?" I walked forward and entered the suite.
Nearly everything had been redecorated. The French Provincial furniture in the sitting room had been reupholstered in a striped silk cloth in my favorite color: wine red. A large Persian rug had been placed over the hardwood floor. The walls had been done in a floral-patterned cloth paper, the colors in the petals picking up on the reds and whites in the upholstery and rug. Over the two large windows hung antique silk drapes, behind which were sheer curtains.
Tony moved ahead and opened the bedroom doors. Even the oversized king-size bed looked lost in the enormous room, the floors of which were covered with a thick, beige carpet so soft to the step it felt as though I were walking over marshmallows. The windows on either side of the bed had been
redesigned, making them longer and wider, thus providing the room with a great deal of sunlight and making it look bright and lively.
The light oak posts of the bed with their handcarved threads rose to support a milk-white and apricot canopy. There was a matching bedspread with frilly edges, and rust-colored throw pillows had been placed at the center. To the right of the entry was a white marble vanity table, resting in the middle of a marble counter that ran nearly the length of the room. Under the counter were drawers framed in wood the shade of the marble counter. Above it was a wall of mirror, the edges of which were trimmed in gold.
The entrance to what would be my bathroom began at the end of the counter. This additional bathroom had obviously been added recently, too. The fixtures were modern and plush, with the whirlpool tub set in a caramel-tinted tile floor. All the knobs and faucets were gold-plated. There were mirrors everywhere, which made the bathroom look larger than it was, although it was, in and of itself, one of the largest bathrooms I had ever seen. Even Jillian's seemed small in comparison.
I turned from the bathroom and went to the immediate right of the bedroom door, where there was one enormous walk-in closet so deep and so long I thought it had as much space as our entire cabin in the Willies. There were even new garments hanging on the racks, dresses and skirts and suits of the latest fashion. I turned to Tony in amazement.
"Went on a buying spree one day. Whatever you don't like, we'll send back. Don't worry about it." He smiled.
"I don't believe this," I said. There were even pairs of matching new shoes displayed on the bottom shelves. Tony always wanted to control everything-- even to the clothes I wore, the way I dressed and put on makeup.
But the one thing that caught my attention the most was the painting hung above the bed, just under the canopy. It was an oil capturing a scene in the Willies with a shack set in the belly of a small hill Two small figures sat in rocking chairs on the porch of the shack, looking remarkably like Granny and Grandpa.
"Of course, you can change anything you want," Tony said.
I stared at him a moment and then shook my head. Obviously, so much redecorati
on and
renovation had to have begun some time ago. Tony had been planning this, hoping or expecting that Logan and I would live here. I wanted to be angry, to despise him for always getting his way, but the brightness and the richness of the rooms, rooms obviously built to cater to my taste, rooms created to make me feel happy and at home, tempered my indignation and smothered the sparks of my anger.
I looked at Logan, who stood beside Tony, beaming. For a moment another, more frightening thought occurred to me. Could he have known about this all along, even before we came to Farthy? Did he always know that Tony would offer him a vicepresidency and did he simply pretend his amazement and excitement? Was he capable of such deception? I didn't think so, but under Tony's guidance, anything was possible.
"How did you know we would even consider doing this?" I asked Tony. He shrugged. "It makes no difference. If you weren't going to live in this suite, it would still serve a purpose--it would be your personal guest suite, available only to you whenever you wanted to use it. I hardly think it was a financial gamble," he added, smiling. Logan laughed.
"I wasn't concerned about your money," I said. His blue eyes narrowed, but he kept his smile small and tight. I looked at the painting again. "Who did that painting?"
"One of my artisans at the plant. I sent him to the Willies and he returned with that. Rather good, I thought. What do you think?"
