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“Her brother and sister-in-law own a bed-and-breakfast in a little town about an hour, or so, southwest of the city. They are giving us a huge suite in their historic Victorian home. I think it might be the whole top floor, with a massive shower and whirlpool tub. They have this garden out back that looks like a botanical garden out of some English countryside. I cursed when I saw it. It was that epic.”
“Wow. A staycation that’s that beautiful? How could I say no?” I state.
“You can’t. You couldn’t even say it was a farm in the country and we were going to be weekend cowgirls.”
“Ummm, yeah. Not my jam.”
Sylvia laughs. “Not mine either, just trying to make a point. There are tons of little boutiques and restaurants, bakeries and bookshops, antique shops, and trails to walk. It’s going to be about unplugging and doing something you’re not good at, relaxing.”
“Why is it that everyone says that to me? My mom said it when I talked to her too.”
“Truth is truth, girl. Now I say it again, are you ready to go?”
“Believe it or not, I have the dress on board, the smut will take me a minute. You know how I like to have the paper in my hand.”
“I do. Five minutes. That’s all you have. I will double-check the snacks.” She winks.
The weather for the next few days is supposed to be absolutely gorgeous, in the low eighties during the day and the low sixties at night. Not too humid, which is rare, and partly to mostly sunny. We have the windows down and the music up from the minute we pull away from the curb.
It’s a lot of nineties R&B while we’re in the partial gridlock that is the I-85 until we get to the other side of the airport. After that, Sylvia takes a different approach. She puts on more instrumental and classical music. The hype songs were pushing me into the fun zone, but this, as she knew, would make me chill. I feel the tension in my face leaving. I can feel my shoulders fall away from my ears.
I rest my head against the frame of the car door and let the breeze take over. I close my eyes behind my large-frame sunglasses and let the heat of the sun wash the rest of my doubt and tension away. It seems like ten seconds when Sylvia taps my shoulder and says, “Hey, sleepyhead, take a look around.”
We’ve gotten off the freeway and are on a one lane each way highway. At first we pass all the normal fare: fast food, banks, strip malls, you name it. I can’t understand why Syl thought this location would be a good choice. Just as I am about to say something, it’s as if we leave the suburb feel behind and cross into small-town life. It just became as advertised. I see parks, fountains, an old-style town auditorium next to the fire station. Things got quaint real quick.
The main street goes on and on in front of me into the horizon. It looks like there might be a street fair or something coming later today. The town is completely buzzing. The café owners are setting their tables, chairs, and umbrellas. The merchants are opening all their doors and propping them to give anyone who walks by that ‘come in and make yourself at home’ feel. Now I get it. I think I might even be in love.
“This town is adorable,” I exclaim.
“Right? Daria told me it was out of a storybook and I didn’t believe her. Well, shit.”
Sylvia puts her blinker on at the direction of the GPS voice, so we take a right off of heaven and turn on to bliss. This tree-lined street leads into what has to be one of many historic neighborhoods surrounding us. The trees filter the light and arch over the pavement, giving us that natural tunnel effect.
Our destination is on the left and what a destination it is.
The rolling, plush, green front yard leads to a cement staircase, which rises to a concrete veranda that wraps around the entire mini plantation-style building. Two full stories with a balcony facing the street above the entryway. Now I see why they call it Casa Bella. It’s perfect. Everything is perfect.
“Holy shit. Not very articulate, but it’s what I’ve got at the moment.”
Sylvia laughs. “It’s what I was thinking anyway. Damn.”
We grab our luggage and walk up the pressed concrete path. The explosion of color that lines the walkway as a path to the door is stunning. The competing smells are a feast for the senses. This is the place where romance lives and breathes. I love everything about it. It feels comforting. It feels like a home away from home.
The front door opens into a grand foyer. The common areas are on either side of us. Daria’s brother greets us just inside. After a quick hug for Syl and a handshake for me, he shows us to the second floor. He leaves us just outside. Sylvia hands me the key to paradise. I open the door and the sunlight and breeze greet me.
The balcony door is wide open next to the electric fireplace and a plush couch to get lost in reading a book. To the left of the door is the kitchenette, to the right is a dining table and chairs. Each bedroom is its own self-contained wing on each side of the room. Sylvia and I both laugh and dash our own directions.
I push the covered French doors open to reveal a stunningly soft room bathed in creams and blushes everywhere. It looks like a flat in Paris. The brushed silver accent and the peonies everywhere, including the fabric on the overstuffed chair for reading next to my bed, make me feel like an absolute princess.
The iron-post bed frame reminds me of the one I had growing up and still sits in my old room, waiting for me anytime I go home. I set my backpack in the chair and leave my suitcase at the end of my bed before I flop down on the soft mattress. The blush woven quilt brushes against my skin and brings with it memories of being a child, being free.
“You look like you just fell into heaven,” Syl teases me from my open door.
“If this is what the bedroom looks like, I don’t think I can handle the bathroom.”
“Oh, I know you can’t. We both have glass wall showers and whirlpool tubs.”
“I feel like an A-lister checking into the Ritz.”
