Chapter 22
Twenty-Two
Matthew stood waiting at the elevator in Whitney’s condo building. One elevator wasn’t moving at all, and the other had just stopped on another floor on its way up, increasing his anticipation.
He glanced at his watch. He was early. Maybe he should’ve texted her first.
As he reached for his phone, finally, the elevator doors swished open.
Whitney began to exit the elevator wearing a pretty sundress and sneakers when she looked up and saw him. “Hey!”
Her smile was a welcoming sight. “Hi.” He stepped back, giving her room to exit.
“Am I late?” She glanced at her watch. “Oh no. Did I get the time wrong?”
“No. I’m early. I was getting ready to text you.” He stepped back, admiring her. “You look so pretty.”
“Thank you.” She looked surprised by the compliment. “I wasn’t exactly sure what to wear.”
“What you have on is perfect.” He reached for her hand. “I’ve been looking so forward to this.”
“Me too. It was the longest week ever,” she admitted.
“I was thinking the same thing.” They walked out and got in the car.
He put the key in the ignition but didn’t start the car.
Her eyes conveyed curiosity.
“Before we leave, I wanted to show you something,” he said. “It’s just an idea, but I wanted to see if this was the direction you wanted to go. I intended to wait, but I’m terrible at keeping a secret. I can never wait until Christmas to give a gift either.” He leaned back and grabbed a sketch pad, flipping the pages back against its spiral. “Here it is.”
“What is it?” she asked, but no sooner had the words left her lips than she sucked in a breath. “For Chloe’s wall?”
He’d tried to catch the essence of what she’d described with a girly treehouse and all the little extras. “What do you think?”
“You did this. Already. Thank you.” She looked at it, shaking her head, then looked at him. Her eyes were glossy. “Yes. This is exactly what I had in mind. No, it’s even better than what I’d imagined. Look how pretty you made the tree house.”
“I’m glad you like it.”
“Love it.”
It had turned out really cute, but her enthusiasm made it even more exciting. “I’ll transfer the idea to canvas so we can work on it. Meanwhile, I’ll need you to get the exact dimensions of the wall where we’re going to hang it.”
“I can do that. This is so exciting.”
“You think that’s exciting?” He started the car. “You wait until you see what I have planned for the rest of the day.”
She handed him the sketchpad and nestled back in the seat. “I like the sound of that.”
He couldn’t wait to share this very special place with her. He’d never wanted to share it with anyone before. Stealing a glance her way, her soft smile captivated him, leaving him yearning to know more about her.
A few dark clouds clustered in the distance, but at least the cloud cover kept the temperatures manageable. Hopefully, it wouldn’t rain.
When they arrived at Maymont, he parked and then reached into the backseat.
“Are you looking for your sketch pad again?” she asked.
“No. A planning tool. I put it back here…” He stretched until he snagged something from behind her seat. “Got it.”
“Planning tools. Now you’re speaking my language. How did you know I was a planner?” She looked pleased.
“I didn’t. Something else we have in common.” He fumbled with the bag. “Excellent, but this is meant to turn our date into more of an adventure.”
“Okay. That sounds fun.” She wiggled upright in her seat, twisting to face him, anxious to see what it was he had in that bag.
“So, Maymont is huge. I’ve walked every inch over the years, but I swear it takes a lifetime to really love it and learn all it has to offer.” He pulled out a hunk of plastic and set it on his leg.
A puzzled look crossed her face. “What is that?” She touched the edge, seeing the multiple colors and numbers. “Is that the spinner doohickey from The Game of Life?”
He grinned. “It is.”
“I loved that game when I was a kid.”
Matthew said, “I’m not sure I ever played a whole game of it. Being an only child has some disadvantages, but I did love this spinner.”
“Do you still have the board game?”
“Yeah, it’s on the bookcase in my den along with a few other board games.” He raised a finger in the air. “Fair warning, I’m pretty great at Scrabble.”
“You haven’t played me yet. We Winters are known to be competitive.” She looked cocky, but she wore it beautifully. “We are totally having a game night. Life and Scrabble. I’ll bring the popcorn.”
She’d met her match, and he couldn’t wait for game night. “A double header? Don’t tempt me with a good time.” He could see her wheels turning, her eyes twinkling with a hint of playfulness that he liked.
“Tell me what this big game plan is that you have for us today.”
He held up the plastic spinner. “Ten colors and numbers on the spinner.” He handed her a list. “You’ll see that I’ve divvied up all the cool stuff to see here at Maymont and numbered them. You’re going to spin this, and wherever it lands is where we’re going to start today, because there’s no way we do it all in one visit. Next time, we’ll spin again.”
“Next time, huh?” She twisted a long tendril of her hair. “Are you inviting me on more dates before we’ve even finished this one?”
He lifted his chin confidently. It was all or nothing. “That’s exactly what I’m doing.”
Her eyes narrowed, but she seemed to like the idea. “Well, you’re pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you?”
“Pretty sure we’re going to have fun.” He took a chance and added, “and I’m looking forward to it.”
“Okay, and next time, we go in numerical order to explore the next part. I get it.” She nodded. “Good idea. Count me in.”
“I will, but that’s not exactly how it’s going to work. I’m an artist. You’ve got to give me a little more credit on the creativity side than that.”
“Excuse me, Mural Guy. I didn’t mean to underestimate you,” she said with a giggle. Folding her arms across her chest, she played up her next response in a serious, but rather flirty fashion. “Please do fill me in on the creative process of this adventure.”
“I fully intend to, but you know what, I’m going to get you to hold that thought. I want to get this day rolling. I’ll explain the process over lunch. You ready?”
She feigned disappointment, snapping her fingers. “Fine.”
He held the wheel against his leg so she could spin.
With a flick of her finger, the little spinner ticked and whirled, finally landing on seven. “Lucky number seven, blue.” She picked up the key he’d written out. “You know, you have really nice handwriting.”
“Thank you. What’re we doing?”
She scanned the list. “The Maymont Mansion.”
“Oh, you’re going to love it. Let’s go!” They hopped out of the car, and he walked around and caught her hand in his. Over his shoulder he’d hoisted the canvas tote bag by its leather straps, which held the lunch he’d packed for them.
In a bad attempt at a British accent, Whitney said, “To the mansion, dahling. I hope you brought something fancy for lunch that is suitable enough for this grand estate.”
“Crusty French rolls, meats, and cheese.”
“Sounds perfect.”
They walked up the long, winding path. “Hope you don’t mind the walk,” he said. “I guess I could’ve moved the car closer after you picked the place.”
“No. We’re good. I’m always up for a nice walk.”
They walked for a moment and then he shared, “The Maymont Mansion is a well-preserved look at Gilded Age design.”
“I have no idea what that means,” she admitted.
“Good. It was meant to impress you.”
She laughed.
“Not even a little?”
“A little,” she said with smile.
“I learned it from my dad. It means that it gives us an authentic peek into what the wealthy, sophisticated folks of the late 1800s preferred. Interesting trivia: Mr. Dooley, who owned this place, was actually a lawyer.”
“He must’ve been a darn good one. I wonder if he knew anyone in my family?”
“Quite possible. So your family has been in the field of law that far back?”
“Yes. We’re one of the oldest firms in the state,” she said.
“Well, then your great-great-great-grandmother may have been in these very gardens eons ago.”
She seemed to like the thought of that, her chin lifting as if breathing in the history around them.
“Dooley was also an investor,” he went on. “Maymont was designed by an architect born in Rome. It carries many Romanesque qualities. The Dooleys acquired this farmland in 1886, but they tore down the original farmhouse to build Maymont. By 1893, they were living here.”
“It’s huge. No wonder it took so long to build,” she said, as the impressive stone structure came into view. “It’s like a castle.”
“Twelve thousand square feet and thirty-three rooms. My father led the restoration of the mansion. The conservation project improved the building’s authenticity and brought the mansion to its current state. It was the work he was most proud of.”
“Was it in disrepair?”
“Not horribly, but definitely neglected, and because there were no original plans to consult, it took quite a bit of work to reverse engineer all of that, and then restore the things that had been removed or changed over the years.”
They conveniently fell into step with a tour group. Matthew was pleased to let someone else narrate the tour, so he could enjoy watching Whitney’s reactions, seeing it through the eyes of someone for the first time again.
He always felt close to his father at Maymont. They’d spent so much time here over the years. It was like going to an adventure park when Dad let him tag along. The gardens, the buildings, the farm, all of it had its own personality.
As they walked through the mansion, Whitney lit up at the tiniest details and shared silly glances with him over some of the overly ornate rooms. “I love this staircase.” She stretched her arm out gracefully, and he wondered if she was imagining an elegant party.
He could almost picture the long white gloves with tiny pearl buttons, her hands begging him for a touch. You would be breathtaking. He could picture it so clearly. “People get married here sometimes.” He wished he could reel the words back in. He hadn’t meant to say that out loud.
“I bet. It would be like a fairy tale.” Her lashes fluttered as she looked across the space again before they moved along with the rest of the tour.
Almost two hours later, the tour wrapped up at the front door.
Whitney and Matthew walked outside, where the air was warm but not unbearable.
“That was wonderful. Thank you for bringing me here.”
“What was your favorite part of the tour?”
“The Tiffany, nine-panel, stained glass window,” she said. “There’s something so beautiful about the way the light shines through—it sort of swept me away. I felt like I was very much a part of something greater when I stood there amidst the glistening colors.”
“I understand completely,” he said. “It’s truly a work of art when something touches your very soul like that.”
“It did.”
“Remind me to show you a series of paintings I did that were inspired by it. That window itself is like a changing canvas. It’s beautiful every day, but every day differently depending on time and season. Sort of like our lives.”
“I’d love to see that.”
“Then you will,” he said. “Are you hungry?”
“Very.”
“I know the perfect place.” He steered her toward the gardens at the edge of the mansion to take her to his favorite spot.