Chapter 12
Elisa stood in awe before the majestic home that lay sprawled before her as far as she could see. She had only moments to admire the view when a voice at the top of the steps reminded her of her assignment here.
“Ms. Rockmoor, I presume?” The British accent came from a man with silver hair in a stainless starched butler’s uniform. She nodded in acknowledgement and he motioned for her to follow. With trepidation, Elisa walked nimbly up the steps and through the massive oak double doors that led into the front entry foyer. A cough from the starched suit jolted her and she realized she was still being led astray by the view. She could never live like this. She would get too used to it and end up a vegetable. Sometimes she desired such finery, but realized that it really would never suit her. Although the place was awe-inspiring, the walls were cold, as if there was a lack of something she could not put a name to.
She was led through another entry way that led into a larger area framed by arched stairs on both sides that she assumed led to more private chambers of the house. This area was warmer as the walls began to fill with adornments usually associated with a happier home than was represented when she first walked in. Pictures in various frames were evenly spaced out along almost every wall. Most of these looked professionally done, but many others had the touch of an amateur hand with a photographer’s eye. The stills were vibrant, representing a family that seemed in touch with and glorified life.
As Elisa passed on into the main room, the sudden sterility and coldness hit her like a wall of ice. White leather couches on ice-blue and white polar carpet surrounded an empty fireplace above which sat a new family portrait distinctly different from the ones in the previous room. The one obvious difference was the absence of Mrs. Girron. However, it was the complete lack of joy that permeated the atmosphere of the portrait that drew Elisa in and touched her soul. The father seemed distant and the two boys frowned austerely from beneath cowls of indignance. There were no other photos in the room, as if there was suddenly an absence of any more need to preserve memories other than the mandatory family portrait done year after year to insure a posterity that had grown harsh and worn, empty and visceral.
The butler finally led her into a room beyond the far end of the main room. She gasped, her jaw dropped to the floor as she gazed upon floor to ceiling books in a room that seemed to jump out of the castle in Beauty & The Beast. Before she could look on further, the butler motioned for her to stop and pointed to a leather couch similar to the ones in the main room. Elisa sat and waited as the butler left, hopefully to inform Mr. Alexander Girron that she had arrived. As she sat, her gaze traveled back and forth across the room, still disbelieving. She took back what she thought earlier…she could live like this, especially if it gave her access to such a splendid collection of books as this. When she was younger, it was a dream of hers to own such a library. Books had been scarce because her parents lacked the money to really purchase for her all the books she had really ever wanted. The library had been one of her haunts and in it, she fell into alternate worlds that seemed to leap at her from the pages of every story. If she really thought about it, it was the influence of books that inspired her to create and to design and build for others. She hoped that others would appreciate her artistry so that she would one day be able to build her own home. It was a dream indeed.