Page 26 of A Late-Blooming Rose
“The house is Sioux quartzite. The same stone surfaces the hotel and the business building housing the newspaper, only that façade is polished, not rough bricks. The stone is quarried locally and is also located in South Dakota. Western stone for a Western home.”
Rose, with Cora behind her, followed their hostess over a long walkway of the same bricks, which bisected a broad dirt yard lined with quartzite brick planters, empty yet of flowers.
Delia gestured to the yard. “Looks so empty, I know. We’ll plant in the spring.” She stopped in front of an entryway with two carved wooden doors. Before she touched the knob, the door opened.
A tall, colored butler in a black suit bowed and stepped back.
To Rose’s shock, she recognized the servant from Andre’s house in New York, his curly hair grown completely white. Lines etched the sides of his mouth and nose. “Rufus.” Rose smiled at the man with more warmth than she’d shown to Andre or Delia. “Twenty-two years later, you’re still answering the door.”
“And twenty-two more, God-willin’. Good to see you, Miss Collier.” He glanced over her shoulder. “Miss Cora.”
“Hello, Rufus. Nice to see a familiar face.” Cora threw a smile at Andre. “Perhaps I should sayanotherfamiliar face.”
The butler’s smile widened. “Miss Cora, you’re always a breath of fresh air. If you two head on in, you’ll see another familiar face.” He waved toward the interior of the house. “My wife is waiting just inside. Why, Tilda’s been like a cat skittering over a hot tin roof waitin’ for the arrival of you two.”
“She always gave me cookies.” Cora practically bounced through the door.
Rose followed more decorously surprised her niece visited Andre enough to be on familiar terms with his servants.Well, growing up, she did spend a lot of time with Marty, and he probably took her on calls with him.
Tilda waited in the wide entryway, a broad smile on her face. “Miss Cora, look at you, all beautiful.” Contrary to her husband’s cat analogy, she stood firmly planted in a familiar proud, strong stance, her handsome face in repose. But her eyes danced with obvious happiness.
“Hello, Tilda,” Cora beamed at the maid.
“You too grown up for my cookies, Miss Cora? I hope not, because I elbowed Cook away from the stove to bake you a batch.”
“Never!”
The woman chuckled. Next, she turned to Rose. “I remember you, too, Miss Collier. You’re welcome here, more than you know.” Her wise eyes studied Rose’s face. She seemed about to say something further, but then stopped.
Rose smiled with genuine pleasure. “What a nice surprise to see you both here.”
“We could never leave Mr. Bellaire. Our two daughters work here, too.”
“How lovely for all of you.” Rose took one quick glance around the space, seeing the leaf-pattern green wallpaper and wooden panels up to the chair-rail.
Delia reached Rose’s side. “Tilda will show you to your rooms and the bathroom.”
“Oh, good!” Cora clapped her hands together. “I didn’t dare hope for indoor plumbing.” She beamed at Andre. “But I should have known better.”
With a fond expression in his eyes, he matched Cora’s smile. “There’s a bathroom on the first floor and another on the second.”
They followed Tilda up the broad, curving sweep of staircase, past a statue of a woman in a Grecian robe holding a flame aloft at the foot of the banister. The green carpet patterned with goldflor-de-lismuffled their footsteps. Gothic-arched stained-glass windows over the landing, showing flowers instead of the usual heraldic symbols, cast a yellowish light.
When they reached the landing, Tilda turned to them. “Your bedrooms are right across the hall from each other.” She gestured down the corridor. “The bathroom is straight ahead. You can freshen up now, and then after you finish dinner, you can have a bath or a nap or both.”
“Miss Cora, Mr. Bellaire wants you to have the amber-and-gold room. Miss Collier is to have the blue-and-gray room.”
Andre remembered my color preferences.Rose wasn’t sure how to feel about that.Or maybe the choice was only a coincidence.She thanked Tilda, and Cora echoed her, before they parted to their respective rooms.
Rose stepped into the blue-and-gray bedroom, twice as big as her one at Marty’s, and caught her breath at the beauty of the space. She paused for a moment, enjoying the instinctive feeling of peace washing through her tired body.
A canopied bed dominated the room, flanked by nightstands holding globed kerosene lights dripping with crystals. A chandelier in the center of the ceiling held light bulbs, showing the house was wired for electricity. Sunlight poured through two windows.
Damask patterned with gray-and-blue covered the thick mattress and canopy, and matching curtains hung at the windows. All the fabric was far richer than she’d had at home or when she used to live in lodgings. Underneath her feet, a Persian rug with the same colors covered the polished wooden floors very different from the plain rag rug she was used to.
A narrow floor-to-ceiling bookcase sat empty, and she wondered why a bibliophile like Andre would go to the trouble of having a bookcase installed and not lining the shelves with volumes.
“I’m using the bathroom,” Cora called, walking past on her way down the hall. “I’ll let you know when I’m done.”
