Page 14 of Sensing Selma
I laughed softly. “My father was a loving man. Generous and caring.”
Brad nodded.
“But...”I went on, not sure how much I should share. “Well, it appears he may not have made the wisest decisions when it came to managing the family finances. There was a secretive side to him. Of course, that became all too clear when he died, and we learned of our fate.”
“I am truly sorry about that. I have to admit that I am deeply troubled by my brother’s actions. Don’t get me wrong; I know my brother. This is not the first time he’s shown himself to be callous and cold. But I feel he is going too far this time. His actions against your family are uncalled for. I’ll try to talk to him.”
“I appreciate your concern, but I doubt there’s much you could do.” I glanced at him. “You really shouldn’t feel guilty for your brother’s actions, no more than I can feel responsible for my father’s.”
We walked in silence for a while and there was an ease that enveloped us. We reached the end of the rose garden, and I turned to face the back of my home.
“It’s a remarkable home,” Brad said. “Marvelous stonework. The architecture in those days...I often wonder why we don’t build things like this anymore. This really is a special place.”
“I’ve always thought so.My great great grandfather built it.”
Brad’s face winced, “your ancestral home, then.”
“Yes, my father grew up in this house as well as my grandfather, and of course his father before him.It’s pretty much all we’ve known.”
“I’m sorry about all this,” Brad said.“I truly am.”
I led the way back to the house, but turned right to skirt around the rose garden and then approach the house through what had once been a vegetable garden.
“Where has your brother gone off to?”I asked.
“I couldn’t really tell you. He got a call and simply abandoned me.”
I laughed. “In that case, would you like a bit of a tour inside? I could show you a few of the rooms that are already empty.”
“I think I’d like that very much,” he said.
The glint in his eyes enchanted me, and I had to smile.
*****
“WE HAVEN’T USED THISwing of the house for a number of years,” I said as I led him to the third room of the second floor.
“It’s such a huge house,” he said. “What was this portion of the house used for?”
I looked at him and laughed. “You’re right. It is a big house. Come to think of it, this part of the house was only used once or twice a year when we had guests stay overnight.”
He looked around the room. “It’s interesting how much effort was put into the décor of every room. The colors, the trim, the wallpaper. It must have been spectacular when furnished.”
I nodded. “My mother has always enjoyed interior decoration. She could spend hours choosing the right color, then more hours finding the perfect wallpaper, then pairing that with the right fabric for the drapes and bedcovers.”
I led him out of the yellow room and down the hall to the red room. “I remember her spending over a week looking for the perfect paintings to hang on the walls of this room. She wanted Gauguin, but my father didn’t really like his work. He preferred Van Gogh.”
“Who won?”
“Neither,” I said with a chuckle. “She put a Monet on that wall and a Renoir on that one.”
“I can picture it,” he said as he looked around. He walked to the window of the empty room and peered down into the garden. “I can see why you must be heartbroken having to leave this place. You must have incredible memories here.”
I pointed to my temple. “They’re all in here. Whether we stay here or elsewhere, those memories will always be with me.”
We went on to the green room, the blue room and finally the gray room at the end of the hall.
“Charming,” he said on entering the smaller room. “There’s something rather regal about this room, despite its modest size.”
