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He isn’t unattractive, although he is older than I imagined he’d be. A good deal of silver is mixed with his dark hair, and his clean-shaved face is clearly lined, even in the shadow cast by the lights behind him. Even so, he seems in better shape than most men his age. His dark eyes track my slow stumbling progress up the stairs with Roxanne by my side, and for just a second I swear I see a flash of silver reflected in their depths.
Then it’s gone, and they’re dark as before.
“Lilliana,” the gruff voice I recognize from the phone calls rumbles. “We’re so glad to have you here.”
I bite back the sarcastic retorts that bubble up in my throat.
“I’d never have guessed, since you left me in LA for a year.”
“Sure, even though you couldn’t be bothered to come visit me once in the last year.”
“It’s Layla, not Lilliana.”
But I’m spared having to reply, since Roxanne does it for me.
“She goes by Layla, sir.”
His tone warms. “Oh, yes, I’m sorry Layla. Roxanne told me that before. Your mother… her name was Lilliana, and she always said she’d name her child after herself, the way men do.” He chuckles at the memory as I reach him. “She had a spirit, that one. You look so like her, I have to remember… but no matter, I will work on it.”
“What was she like, my mother?” I’m too eager to know more about her to be couth. I’ve waited a year for answers, and now he’s already told me things I’ve always wondered.
“We have plenty of time to get into that,” Roxanne interjects, and eyes me meaningfully. “Why don’t you show her around the house, sir?”
“Very well,” my uncle answers agreeably, then fixes me with a half-smile. “Shall we?”
“Sure,” I shrug. “What should I call you?”
He pauses for a moment. “You may call me Uncle, or Dominic. Or Dom. Or Uncle Dom, if you prefer. Any of those will do.”
“Okay, Dom,” I smile with tentative friendliness. “I’m ready when you are.”
He turns around and gestures to the entrance, where a man in a neat black suit waits to open the door. “After you.”
As I approach, the man tugs on the door, bowing his head while he waits for us to pass through. I thank him, but he doesn’t respond.
We stroll into a grand foyer, filled with warm light that seems to glow from everywhere. Wall sconces, lamps, and a massive chandelier hanging above us light the space, and I crane my head back to see how high the ceiling is. Easily several stories above. There’s a giant set of curving stairs to the left, and a large open space directly before me that appears to have several nooks on the far side of the building. Instantly, I can tell this place is much larger than a traditional house.
“Right over this way,” Uncle Dom gestures to my right, “is the conservatory. Back in the day, it used to be filled with plants like an indoor garden. Now it’s still got some greenery, but not quite as much.”
We step between two columns and down three stairs, and I find myself in a round, sunken space surrounded by lush, tropical plants. I can’t imagine what it looked like before if this is ‘not much’. A massive fountain, topped by a serene cherub, sits in the middle, and above my head is an ornate domed roof of glass. Several lanterns hang from the curved peaks of wood that frame the small windows.
“The winters are cold here, as you’ll discover soon enough. It’s nice to have a little of the outside without having to leave the house. Of course, you can visit the gardens tomorrow, but for tonight we’ll just do the house tour. Come along.”
I follow him out the other side of the conservatory into a room dominated on one side by three giant fireplaces. The ceiling is easily five stories above us, with a bank of windows on one side showing the night sky beyond. The sparkling wood floor is mostly bare, aside from one massive rectangular table with at least three dozen chairs surrounding it, all upholstered in crimson satin. Tapestries line the walls, and two giant round chandeliers fill the space with a warm glow.
“This is the formal dining room. Although we don’t use it very often, it is nice for special occasions,” my uncle comments as we pass through.
The kitchen is just as massive, with an entire wall of modern ovens and stovetops, three refrigerators, and enough counter space to sit twenty people at a banquet.
“Uncle Dom, how old is this house?”
“It has been in our family for generations,” he replies. “Construction took nearly a decade, and it was finished in 1895. Back then, the family was… much larger. Now here,” he leads me into another room, this one also featuring a table but a fraction of the size of the formal dining room. “This is where we’ll have most of our meals. Roxanne will make sure you know the schedule and where to be when.”
I barely have a chance to take in the dark wood-paneled walls and massive fireplace before he ushers me into the hallway and back toward the main entrance. “Now, we could take the stairs,” he gestures to a giant set that spirals several stories above, “or we could take the elevator,” he adds with a mischievous grin.
“Um, how far up are we going?” I ask, not sure what the right answer is.
“Let’s just take the elevator for now. It’s quicker.” We pass the stairs into an alcove on the right, and find a small elevator with an antique gate. Uncle Dom mashes the button marked ‘2’ and the elevator slowly climbs, rattling slightly.
