Secrets of the Blue House (4)
Please read part one, part two, and part three before continuing.
She stood aside so he could enter. The interior of the house was nothing like Nick expected from observing the outside. It was more of a palace than a Victorian mansion. The entrance hall alone boasted an expansive floor of mirror-like white tile with a fountain in the center. The fountain was easily the size of a swimming pool—if not the depth—and had a larger-than-life-size statue of a barely clothed woman dancing with a satyr and a bird, looking like a cross between a white tailed eagle and a heron. They seemed to have been dancing around a tree that almost reached the ceiling and the water fell from somewhere between the branches at the top. The small portion of walls that Nick could see were white and reached up to a gold ceiling. Most of the walls were covered by doors, which were more than adequately tall and ornately decorated with fantastical creatures that Nick could only guess came from different legends.
The maid let him soak in the overabundant details in the room before leading him to the second door on the left into a typical parlor. There were several couches, easy chairs, and love seats around the room with twice as many coffee tables and ashtrays strategically placed. The two walls to Nick’s left and right sported large windows with lace curtains but the wall adjacent to him was decorated with a large tapestry that could easily pass off as one created during the Middle Ages. Nick didn’t know what scene was depicted, but he could still see the appeal in having such a large art piece displayed where people probably often frequented.
The door opened and shut behind him and Nick turned around to find a tall, gray haired man smiling and extending his hand. Nick took it and gave it a hearty shake. The man looked nothing like the other people Nick saw along his journey. He had no trace of work on his frame, nor did he have a trace of age other than his silver hair. It was hard to tell anything about his character, except for the wrinkle-less suit that he had on and the overly shined shoes. He motioned for Nick to sit down and then followed his guest’s lead.
“I hope your travels weren’t too taxing,” the man said.
“No. Thank you for asking.”
“Would you like anything to eat or drink?”
“No, thank you, Monsieur Fontaine. If you don’t mind, let’s just get down to business.”
“Of course, Mr. Fuentes. And to start, you may simply call me Gervais. We are, after all, family.”
Nick smiled curtly. “Of course.”
Author’s comments on post 392: As I said yesterday, this is part two of my recovery story chunk (for lack of a better term). More at a later date…hopefully tomorrow. On a completely different note: I can’t believe I’m almost at post 400! I have no idea what I’m going to do–if anything–to celebrate.
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