“Fifty? Sixty? I’m not sure,” Sylvie says with a shrug as we walk through the open double doors. The foyer is two stories, her words echoing off the walls and the ceiling. A man in a black suit shuts the door, the sound ringing in the hollow room, nearly making me jump.
“Miss Lancaster, shall I show you and your guest to your rooms?” the man asks in a British accent.
“Please, Alfred.” Sylvie indicates me. “This is my friend, Summer Savage.”
“A pleasure, Miss Savage,” Alfred says with a quick bow.
I blink at him. This entire moment is surreal. The have an authentic English butler at their beck and call. Servants everywhere. The biggest house I think I’ve ever been in, in my life. No wonder the Lancasters choose this holiday to spend together, and in this house. Augustus can have one wing; their mother can have another and they’d barely have to see each other.
“Nice to meet you too,” I say to Alfred before he turns and leads us to the staircase.
“Your room is upstairs,” he tells me. “The family has the west wing, and guests stay in the east wing.”
I nod, mentally counting the steps as we climb them. They’re wide, marble, covered in soft black fabric that resembles velvet. The black matches the ornate iron railings that also match the gate that blocks the commoners from coming in, and once we’re at the top of the stairs, we’re greeted by a massive painting of a stern looking man scowling down upon us.
“The original Augustus Lancaster,” Sylvie whispers in my ear, steering me to the right. “Come on.”
We go up another staircase, to the third floor, trailing behind Alfred as he marches ahead of us. I can’t stop staring, drinking in the massive paintings of their ancestors. The ornate paneled walls, the chandeliers hanging above us, dripping with crystals. It’s like something out of another time.
“The guest rooms are here,” Alfred announces. “I made sure and gave you a room with an ocean view, Miss Savage. As per Miss Sylvie’s request.”
“Thank you, Al,” Sylvie says, skipping right up to him. He stops, shocked, and she rises on tiptoe, giving him a pinch on the cheek. “You’re such a peach.”
Swear to God, the older man blushes.
We walk down the endless hall, until he stops directly in front of a towering door. With a flick of his wrist, he opens it, then holds out his arm. “Ladies first.”
Sylvie leads me into the room and I stop in the center of it, my mouth hanging open as I slowly turn in a circle, trying to take it all in. But I can’t. My eyes don’t know where to settle first.
The rug beneath my feet is plush, the floral pattern faded, though that doesn’t make it look shabby. No, more like you know you’re stepping on something fine. Expensive. That’s been in the family for generations. The walls are covered in subtle hydrangea printed wallpaper, with blue and pink and white flowers everywhere, allowing a bare glimpse of the pale green background. The bed is a massive four poster. The furniture is delicate, yet ornate. Painted white with gold tufted seating. Another chandelier hangs in the center and I gaze up at it, the crystals sparkling in the dim sunlight.
“I feel like I’m in a fairy tale,” I say to no one.
Sylvie laughs and takes my hand. “Come see the view.”
I follow her toward the slender glass double doors that open out onto a balcony. She grabs the black iron handle and opens one, leading me outside where the bitterly cold wind whips at our hair. Before us is a lush garden, reminding me of the one at school but even bigger, and beyond that, the ocean. It’s wintry blue and whitecapped, the water churning. Restless.
“This is beautiful,” I breathe, turning to find she’s smiling at me, downright giddy.
“I love seeing it through your eyes for the first time. Everyone I know is so jaded. Nothing affects them. I mean, I can tell you’re jaded in some ways, but not all,” she explains.
I try to tamp down my joy and awe, feeling stupid. Their wealth shouldn’t impress me. My mother is wealthy now too, thanks to Jonas and Yates’ passing. Mother got everything. All of it. Jonas’ ex-wife is suing, but she has no grounds for a lawsuit, according to my mother’s lawyer, or so Mother says. The first wife’s only son is gone too. She deserves nothing beyond what Jonas originally gave her in the divorce settlement.
“It’s okay. You don’t have to pretend.” Sylvie reaches out, her hand gentle on my arm. “I like how open you are. How real. Everyone tiptoes around me, treating me like I’m a fragile doll about to break. You don’t.”
“You’re the strongest person I know,” I admit, my voice faint, swallowed up by the howling wind.
It’s true. She’s suffered so much, and still she skips around and acts like nothing bothers her. I’d be in a pit of despair if I believed I was dying.
She almost relishes in the fact that her time is near.
Sylvie visibly trembles and she tugs on my arm. “Come on. Let’s go inside. It’s freezing out here.”
The moment the doors shut, the room is enveloped in complete silence. Alfred is long gone. My duffel bag rests on a bench that sits in front of the giant bed I get to sleep in tonight. It looks so small, downright shabby in the overt grandeur of the room.
“We’re definitely going shopping this weekend,” Sylvie tells me, her gaze locked on my bag. “You have a credit card?”
I nod. I’ll should probably text Mother to make sure she’s okay with me spending money, but I doubt she’d care. She’s too busy vacationing with her friends, soaking up the sun. I didn’t even bother telling her I was going to Sylvie’s house for Thanksgiving. I don’t think she’d really care about that either.
Or maybe she would, considering I’m interacting with Augustus Lancaster this week. I don’t know.
Sylvie smiles. “Perfect. There are so many fantastic shops we can explore. We’ll find you a new look for every day of the week. And a new suitcase to take it all home in.”
“But I brought some clothes,” I start, but she shakes her head, her expression firm.
“Meals are an event. There will be parties in the neighborhood. You’ll want to dress up the entire week, especially at night.” Her gaze skims me from head to toe. “You’re so beautiful, yet you rarely play up your beauty. Please let me do your makeup tonight for dinner. What do you say?”
“I-I guess,” I agree. “What should I wear tonight?”
“Oh, you can dress casual. Jeans. A sweater. And your hair down. You always have it in a ponytail.” She reaches behind me and yanks the tie from my hair, so it cascades around my face, a bend in my hair thanks to the hair tie. “Your hair is gorgeous. Maybe I can curl it for you too. Please let me dress you up? I used to do this for Lina all the time before she went away to school. She was like my own personal Barbie doll I could make pretty.”
“Fine, okay,” I say with a laugh, overwhelmed. “What time is dinner?”
“I’ll ask Mother what time the reservation is for. I’ll go find her.” Sylvie turns wide eyes upon me. “Would you care to meet her now?”
God, no. “I’d rather take a nap, if it’s okay. I’m exhausted.”