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"Thank you, Miles. This is my husband, Logan Stonewall."
"Pleased to meet you, sir."
"Thank you," Logan said and we all got into the rear of the black limousine. "This is the way to travel," Logan said, stretching out his legs and leaning back against the rich leather seat. Then he leaned forward quickly. "Is this a bar?"
"Yes. Would you like a drink?" Tony offered.
"I think I would," Logan replied, which surprised me. He didn't drink alcoholic beverages very often. Tony pulled out the liquor cabinet and Logan asked for a highball.
"Heaven?"
"No, thank you, Tony. Right now it would put me to sleep," I said. Tony made Logan his drink as we raced down the crowded highway.
Tony looked at me. His smile was small and tight . . . amused. I felt my heartbeat quicken. The scenery outside flashed by quickly, but everything-- sounds, shapes, colors--was vibrant, electric.
"Is Curtis still the butler and Rye Whiskey still the cook?" I asked Tony.
"Of course. Farthy wouldn't be Farthy without them."
"Rye Whiskey?" Logan laughed.
"His real name is Rye Williams, but everyone calls him Rye Whisky."
"Not everyone," Tony said. "I still maintain some semblance of dignity when it comes to my servants."
I turned to look out the window. I wanted to come upon Farthinggale Manor just the way I had that first time. I wanted to feel the same excitement, the same sense of newness. I remembered being impressed with a home that had a name, and now I thought I rightly should have been, for Farthy was like a living thing to me; it had its own personality, it housed its memories and its past just like some dowager queen, sitting back, still reigning supreme. Despite my reluctance to admit it, I was coming home, returning to a part of myself I had hoped I had overcome by marrying Logan.
We were heading north, away from the city. Soon the roadside was bordered by large, gracious shade trees and sprawling green lawns. It was a bright summer day and the foliage was in full glory. It was a day in which to hope, a day in which to begin a new life.
"You know," Logan said as we drove on, "I never realized it before, but New England looks a lot like the Willies, only without the mountains and the shacks. These homes are far from shacks, huh, Heaven?"
"Yes," I said. "But the Willies wouldn't be the Willies without them," I added softly.
"We're going to live in Winnerow," Logan explained quickly. "We're staying at the cabin for the time being, but we plan to build something substantial relatively soon."
"Is that right?" Tony asked, turning toward Logan and narrowing his steady gaze. I could practically hear his thoughts. He was reconsidering his original opinion of Logan, sensing something unexpected. "Well, you're about to see something very substantial here," he added. "Farthy was built by my great-great-great- grandfather, and every first son who takes it over improves it."
"Really?" Logan said, his eyes widening. He turned to look at me, the excitement so vivid in his face that for a moment he reminded me of a little boy about to be presented with a fabulous new toy.
"It's just coming up," Tony announced. Logan leaned forward to watch for the break in the trees. Miles made the turn onto the long, narrow private drive marked by high, wrought-iron gates that arched overhead and spelled out with ornate embellishments
FARTHINGGALE MANOR.
"I rode past this gate once," Logan said wistfully, "trying to get up enough nerve to go in to see Heaven."
"Oh? Looks like your patience and persistence paid off," Tony said and winked at me. I pressed my face to the window and watched the balsam, fir, and pine trees whiz by as we approached the circular drive. The great gray stone house loomed before us. The red roof rose high into the sky, a magnificent silhouette against the cobalt blue. It amazed me how it could still take my breath away. When I looked at Logan, I saw he was impressed.
"It does look like a castle," he said.
"And the princess is coming home," Tony added, putting his hand over mine and smiling
Miles pulled the limo up to the wide steps in front of the hand-carved, arched entrance door.
"And so the tour begins," Tony announced. I could feel Logan's enthusiasm and excitement as he gulped down the remainder of his drink and hurried to get out of the car. I emerged far more slowly, suddenly feeling a little terrified. I looked quickly at the great hedges that formed the English maze. At the other end of those passages lay Troy's little cottage. Despite the bright sunshine and the clear blue sky, it looked to me as if a mist lingered about those hedges, securing their mystery.
Logan didn't know where the maze led, but he knew how much I had once cared for Troy. He even knew about our short an
d tragic engagement. He had learned all when he had taken care of me when I went into a fever delirium and he nursed me back to health at the cabin. It was Troy I called for, Troy I even thought I saw when I opened my fevered eyes and gazed upon Logan's concerned face. I remembered how hurt he was.
