Page 89 of All Yours

“It’s a bit much,” Lauren laughed.

“Can you imagine cleaning all this?” I asked.

“If you live in this, you’re not cleaning it yourself,” Jonah said.

“Yeah, I know,” I said. Growing up we lived in a decent sized house, but nowhere this big and my mom hired a housekeeper. “A place this size needs an entire staff.”

The door opened before Camden could press the doorbell.

“Good evening. Welcome,” said a man wearing a tuxedo with tails. He opened the door wide, motioning for us to enter. “May I take your coats?”

Was that an honest to God butler? Lauren and I gave each other a side-eye as we slid off our coats and handed them over. The man disappeared into a room off the foyer and returned with numbered tickets. I dropped the number into my clutch purse and hoped I didn’t lose both.

The color white carried from the exterior walls into the entry hallway, from the white marble floors all the way to ornate crown molding and across the ceiling to a golden chandelier. A red and gold rug broke the white marble floor up in an ornate floral print. But the largest Christmas tree I’d ever seen stood beside a grand staircase. It’s red and gold ornaments sparkling against the lights and draped in a red velvety ribbon giving it the appearance of old-fashioned luxury.

“Man, that’s a lot of white,” Lauren whispered.

“Not the first time that’s been said,” Camden replied.

Beside me, Jonah grinned and shook his head.

We wandered inside; a hush had fallen over us. This was someone’s home? It resembled a museum, not a home. People lived like this. Along one wall hung an oil painting of a man, woman, and two children in 1800s style clothing. Underneath the painting sat a piece of furniture, a well-preserved couch from around the same time as the painting. Upholstered in blue velvety fabric, it had a low back and featured scroll arms carved from dark wood.

A commotion came from the room off the right of the foyer, but we were all too mesmerized by the opulence and sheer scale of the place to make our way to where the guests gathered.

“There you are,” Mrs. Pennington’s voice boomed, echoing throughout the hall. She appeared in the doorway dressed in a black sequined dress. It was shapeless and hung to her knees and she resembled a black disco ball. But the showstopper was the ocean’s worth of pearls that dripped from the multitude of layered necklaces that hung around her neck. “Welcome to Whitehouse Estate. I am so glad that y’all are here.”

“We were just admiring your home,” Lauren said. “We’ve never been out here before.”

“Yes, you have,” she smiled. “You came out here with your parents when you were little. But I don’t guess you remember that.”

Lauren shook her head.

“Who’s in the painting?” I asked, gesturing at the family portrait beside us.

“That’s who built the house, my 4 times great grandfather and grandmother- John Lee Whitehouse and Mary Vanderbilt.”

“Vanderbilt as in the Commodore Vanderbilt?” Camden asked.

Mrs. Pennington beamed and wrapped her arm around Camden’s bicep. “The same.”

“I didn’t know you were related to the Vanderbilts,” Lauren said.

“Distantly,” she sighed. “It’s not like I’m invited to the family reunions,” she howled.

We smiled at each other and gave a curtesy chuckle.

“The house has been in my family since they built it in 1859. And this is the portrait John and Mary had commissioned when they moved in to commemorate the occasion.”

“How big is the property?” Camden asked.

“Thirty-five acres,” she said. “But put your developer brain away. It’s all in a trust to the state to be preserved after I pass.”

“No, I wasn’t thinking that,” Camden stammered. “It’s just a long driveway.”

Mrs. Pennington laughed. “Yes, John insisted on everyone viewing his beautiful land on the carriage ride in the from the street.”

“Why is the estate going to the state?” Lauren asked.

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