As soon as I walked into the foyer, my jaw dropped. This was just too much. While the outside screamed “old money”, the home’s interior screamed “new money”. First of all, what kind of house has an actual foyer? When I was growing up, Regina Stuart, the local rich girl, lived in a six bedroom apartment, and even they only had a bit of an entrance hall in their place.
The foyer alone was bigger than my mother’s apartment back in New York which we shared. With a grand chandelier hanging from the ceiling and a marble staircase lined with plush carpet leading up to God-knows what kind of rooms, furniture that obviously cost more than my whole degree was going to and Corinthian columns here and there, I was just shocked.
I knew the other half lived well, but this was just, well, straight out of a Disney movie or something.
I followed as Anita led us through room after room of luxury and opulence. A huge games room with a full size pool table in the middle. A home theatre with thirty seats and a fifty foot projector screen. A library with books from top to bottom. We hadn’t even gotten to the bedrooms yet and I already knew I was never going to be able to find my way back to the front of the house without help.
“Do you happen to have a map?” I asked Anita when she took us past John Alcott’s study and into the home gym area.
She laughed at my joke. “I don’t, as much as it does seem daunting at first, you get used to the layout pretty quickly. I can draw you one in the meantime, if you really want. But basically, go right from the entrance hall and you reach all of the leisure rooms. Go left and you’ll find the staff quarters, the kitchens, that sort of thing. Up and to the right are Mr. and the future Mrs. Alcott’s rooms, and up and to the left are the guest rooms, of which yours is one.
“I suppose I can remember that,” I replied, and hoped I did.
Eventually Anita left me in the library while she went to go and show my mother her rooms, with the promise of coming back to get me to show me mine when she was finished.
I wasn’t really sure if I was supposed to touch any of the books on the shelf. After all, they all looked horrendously expensive. Was that a first edition Voltaire I saw on one of the shelves? I was pretty sure it was.
Finally, I got bored enough that I decided I didn’t really care. I looked for the newest book, for something that might have cost less than $100, and gingerly took the copy of Wuthering Heights off the shelf.
As I opened the cover it practically heard the cover creaking. I cringed inwardly, and considered putting the book back, but I had already gone this far.
Instead, I just kept an ear out for footsteps and started reading. I had never read anything by Emily Bront?, and found myself quickly caught up in her addictive writing style. So much so that I never heard the footsteps coming to the room, or the door opening.
“Excuse me, you must be Julianne,” I heard a man’s voice say from the doorway, and I let out a squeal and dropped the book.
“Oh my God,” I cried out, quickly picking up the book. The man quickly came over and helped me with it, before placing the cover back in my hands.
I looked up at him. He was in his early fifties, probably, with a thinning head of brown hair that was losing its battle with the grey taking over. Still, I guessed that back in the day he would have been quite a good looking man. With his obviously expensive suit, I figured I knew who I was talking to.
“You must be Mr. Alcott. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to drop the book. Or really take it off the shelf. I wasn’t going to, but then I couldn’t resist, and…”
I was rambling, and I knew it, and John Alcott smiled kindly and raised his hand.
“Books are meant to be read, Julianne. And yes, I am John Alcott. Please, call me John. It’s wonderful to finally meet you.”
“You too, John,” I replied, finally able to smile a bit myself. I had expected the owner of a place like this to be draconian, the stiff upper lip type, but John didn’t seem to be that way at all.
Just then Anita came into the doorway.
“Mr Alcott!” she exclaimed. “I wasn’t expecting you for hours, I apologize for not being at the door.”
“Not to worry Anita. The meeting in town was cancelled, so I don’t have to be at the Gherkin until two. I thought I would come say hello to my fiancée and her daughter, and help them settle in.”
“Well Ms. Reeves is in your room at the moment, being helped to unpack her things by Gina. I was about to take the younger Ms. Reeves to see to her room now.”
“Alright, well I’ll go see Mary, and leave Julianne here in your hands. Take that book with you, Julianne, and enjoy it. Every book in this library is at your disposal.”
“Thank you John,” I replied as I left with Anita. I was so relieved that Mr. Alcott was just a normal person, and that I hadn’t been sent to the Tower of London for reading that book or anything like that.