At Home on Ladybug Farm - Donna Ball [44]
The white-columned porch appeared to have suffered some from the mud of winter, and nothing but the sagging frozen stems of daffodils remained of the whiskey-barrel plantings on either side of the wide front steps. Somewhere in the distance—hopefully behind solidly locked doors—a dog barked furiously, and a deer with a rope around its neck was meandering toward the car.
“Well, well,” Paul murmured to his companion. “The sheep are wearing coats and the shrubs are wearing bedsheets. We must be in the right place.”
At that moment the front door opened and four women rushed down the steps, arms opened wide. Lindsay reached him first, flinging herself into his arms and burying her face in his camel wool coat. “Oh my God, you smell expensive!” she exclaimed
He assured her, tweaking her cheek, “My dear, I am expensive.”
Cici grabbed the other door as it was opening and tugged Derrick out. “Look at you! Look at you both! How dare you look so good when I’m turning into a hag?”
Derrick, with his prematurely silver hair, bright blue eyes, and salon-perfect tan, preened under her praise. “Clean living and good hair products,” he told her, grinning broadly as he kissed her cheek. “And who’s turning into a hag? You never looked better! Your skin is positively radiant. Is that what fresh air and sunshine does to you? I might be tempted to try it after all.”
“I’m so glad you came!” Bridget exclaimed, claiming her hug. “We haven’t seen anyone from the old neighborhood in forever!”
And Lori pushed her way forward eagerly. “At last, someone from the civilized world! You’ve got to tell me, what’s happening on American Idol?”
Paul gave her a look of disdain. “Like we would ever watch that trash.” But as he tucked her arm through his and leaned in close he murmured, “You won’t believe what Cowell is up to now. Tell you later.”
“Inside, inside,” Cici commanded, hugging her arms in the brisk air. “Before we all freeze to death. Noah will get your luggage. “
“Yes, and could we speak with you about that gorgeous spring weather you promised, with daffodils in bloom and cocktails on the porch . . . Well, will you look at this?” Paul interrupted himself to stop and gaze in admiration around the foyer. “Will you just look?”
The grand, sweeping staircase gleamed beneath the prisms of the huge chandelier overhead, mirroring the golden glow of the newly refinished floors. Every surface held a vase of fresh flowers—mounds of buttery daffodils, jewel-colored tulips, stately sprays of forsythia and pink weigela. A fire crackled and danced in the fireplace, scenting the room with the aroma of hickory, and sunlight poured through the tall windows, forming inviting pools of warmth on the floors and tabletops. Derrick exclaimed over the painted tin ceiling and the stained glass window, and Paul went immediately to the draperies, the fabric for which he had helped Bridget track down over the Internet.
“Gorgeous!” he exclaimed, fingering the pleats. “Just gorgeous.” He went quickly to one of the Queen Anne chairs that formed part of a group in front of the fireplace. “Don’t tell me you found this in the attic! And what is this?” He had discovered the muraled alcoves.
Derrick said, “Well, I can certainly see why you were enchanted. This place is unbelievable. How old did you say it was?”
Several conversations were going on at once, as Cici told the story of uncovering the alcoves, and Bridget related the history of the house, and Lindsay interrupted with her discovery of the hidden firewood bin, and Lori piped in with her contributions to unearthing the hidden treasure of the house. The walls rang with the sound of voices and laughter, soprano and baritone, and inside the house it felt like home.
“I know you want the grand tour, so I’m going to duck out and see about lunch,” Bridget said. “I thought today would be a good day for Brunswick stew.” She knew it was Paul’s favorite.
“You are a queen!” Paul exclaimed. “Tell me you made beaten biscuits. Do I pay you now or later?