“Okay,” Rose’s voice called out. She entered to find the bedridden woman’s upper body covered up by the Dartmouth nightshirt, her lower body hidden beneath the blankets. “You found it?”
“Yeah, sorry about barging in without knocking. I wasn’t thinking.”
“It’s okay. I’m sure you’ve seen half-naked women before.”
“Well, I still should have knocked.” Ronnie looked at the small tray. “Hmm…that’s not going to be big enough to play on.”
“You know, if you put the leg rests up on that wheelchair, I’m sure I could play at a table with you.”
“You think you’re ready for that?”
“Well, they put me in one to change the sheets on my bed at the hospital. I’m sure if we’re careful we could do it.”
“I don’t know, Rose. I don’t want to hurt you,” Ronnie said hesitantly.
“I’m in pain most of the time anyway. I don’t think it’ll make much difference.” She looked up at piercing blue eyes and smiled. “I really do want to play with you.”
“Are you sure about this?”
“I’m sure. Besides, that way you can give me a tour.”
Ronnie hesitated for a moment, weighing the dangers of moving Rose and trusting that the young woman knew what her limits were. “All right, but if you feel tired or want to lie back down you tell me immediately, okay?”
“Okay.”
It required bringing the chair up against the bed and pulling Rose into it but they were able to do it with a minimum amount of discomfort. Fortunately, the renovations Ronnie had done when she took over the house included nice wide doorways. With the exception of the sunken part of the living room, there was no place Rose would not be able to go on the first floor. “Are you ready for your tour?” Ronnie asked after double-checking to make certain the afghan tucked under the fragile legs would not interfere with the wheels.
“Absolutely,” Rose replied, reaching for the wheels only to find that she was already being guided out of the room, Ronnie’s hands on the handles. The office was off the living room and now upright, Rose saw even more of the magnificent area. Classic oil paintings hung on the walls. An antique coat rack stood near the door along with an umbrella stand that looked far too elegant to hold an umbrella. Every piece of furniture matched, from the trim on the leather sofa to the end tables to the cabinets that lined the wall. “It’s beautiful,” Rose whispered in awe.
“It’s pompous,” Ronnie replied. “I only leave it this way because I don’t want to listen to what my family would say if I changed it. Sometimes we have to have functions here and I’m sure that the Monet goes over far better than a Witherspoon would.” She noted the lack of response from the young woman. “Witherspoon is an abstract artist. I have some of her works hanging in the game room.”
“You have a room just for games?”
“It’s a throwback to my father’s time. He used to entertain some of his more bawdy friends there. It’s got a pool table, a bar, dartboard, that kind of stuff. It’s over here. I’ll show you.”
Between the office and kitchen was a door, hidden under the stairs. “This is it. I haven’t been in here in quite some time until today when I went looking for the Trivial Pursuit game. Maria doesn’t even bother cleaning in here because it’s never used, so don’t mind any dust you might see.” Ronnie stopped pushing the chair, stepped in front, and opened the door.
There was hardly a speck of dust in the room, despite the warnings. Rose heard a click behind her and the room lit up with a series of hanging lights, all proclaiming one brand or another of beer as being the best. On the far left wall stood a fully stocked bar. The center of the room sported a claw-footed pool table with crushed green felt and the right end of the room had a few small tables complete with ashtrays. “It’s just like a bar.”
“Pretty much. Dad used to retreat in here with his friends when he needed a break from the stuffy business world. I learned to play pool right on this table.” She ran her fingers across the felt in memory. “During prohibition, my great-grandfather ran a makeshift speakeasy out of here, just for important clients, of course.” She walked to the far wall and pointed at a small buzzer. “This was the warning bell. Grandpa used to use it to warn when my grandmother was coming and years later my father did the same thing.”
“Wow,” Rose said, truly amazed at the history of the room. She reached over and ran her fingertips along the smooth wooden side of the pool table. “I’m surprised you don’t spend time in here. It seems like a wonderful room.”
“It is, but I’m really too busy most of the time to have friends over.” Ronnie gripped the handles again. “Ready to see the rest?”
“Sure.”
They left the game room and ventured around some more, Ronnie pointing out the mud room that led to the back driveway, the foyer, and the second bathroom on the first floor. They passed into an elegant dining room with a table longer than any Rose had seen before. “You could seat twenty people here,” the young woman said.
“Actually, it seats eighteen with the leaf in, but it does look rather large, doesn’t it?”
“It’s beautiful.” The table matched the china closets custom built into each corner as well as the serving cart, a wooden table with wheels and fold down side flaps.
“I suppose it is. I never use it except for family get-togethers. I usually eat in the kitchen or in front of the computer. Come on, you haven’t seen anything yet.”
Their next stop was the kitchen. Ronnie wheeled Rose into the center of the room so she could see everything in one glance. “When I took the house over, this was nothing more than two counters and a few cabinets. Maria and I worked with one of the best kitchen designers in the area to make this.”
“It’s beautiful. It’s just like those kitchens you see in magazines,” Rose said. The colossal refrigerator sported light oak panels on the front, matching the rest of the kitchen’s decor. A state of the art cook’s island sat just off the middle of the room and was complete with a stovetop and sink as well as a garbage hole and built in cutting board. Above their heads was a wrought iron rack holding the brilliantly finished copper pots and pans. The opposite end of the room had large sliding glass doors that looked out at the driveway and the garages beyond. The entire kitchen was finished with oak, copper and steel with lots of light, giving an airy feeling to the area. “What’s that door?”
“That leads to the laundry room. It’s nothing exciting, I never go there.”
“A room just for laundry? Can I see it? I mean, if it’s not too much trouble.”
“It’s no trouble at all, Rose,” Ronnie said, smiling at the obvious approval in the young woman’s gaze and voice. She guided them to the medium sized room. Calling it a laundry room was a bit of an understatement. Beyond the requisite washer and dryer, it also held the ironing board, several shelves to store off-season clothing, a cabinet with everything from fabric softener and detergent to spot removers and dryer sheets, and a counter to sort clothes on.