Irene Brand - Heiress

“We’re glad to see you, Miss Sayre. Mr. Page was a quiet man, and he never talked about his family. We knew he had a sister somewhere, but we sure didn’t know he had any kin as pretty as you. How come none of you ever visited him? After his wife died, Harrison was lonely, and there was plenty of room in this big house.”

“As far as I know, we never had an invitation to visit him. It always puzzled me why he and Mother weren’t more friendly.”

“We’re glad you’re here now,” Minerva said. “What do you think of the house?”

“If the rest of the house is anything like this foyer, I want to keep it.” She gave Thomas Curnutt an anxious look. “That is, if you think I can afford it. The taxes and upkeep on a building of this size must be horrendous.”

“Nothing you can’t afford if you want to live here. Let’s continue our tour. The living room, originally called the parlor, and dining room are to the left. Harrison spent a great deal of time and money furnishing these rooms with genuine antique pieces of the period. Even the lamps and vases and such are antiques,” he added.

A fireplace fronted with gray marble, with a slab of matching marble as a mantel, over which hung a lighted picture of a woman in formal dress of the Victorian era, was the focal point when one entered the room. A brown leather sofa and two soft armchairs upholstered in flowery chintz were grouped around a large oval coffee table placed on an Oriental rug. A delicate brass chandelier with a few crystal prisms hung from a ceiling medallion over the coffee table. A nineteenth-century wooden bench covered with needlepoint was to their right, and a grand piano stood along the wall that looked out on the street.

“This room seems as if it has never been used.”

“Mr. Page didn’t entertain much, and he spent all his time in the office across the hall,” Minerva said. Motioning to the adjoining room, she added, “He did like his meals served in the dining room.”

She led them into the dining room, designed with a fireplace identical to the one in the parlor; a portrait of a wigged Victorian gentleman hung over it. A glittering crystal chandelier shed a soft glow over an oval oak table covered with an ecru crocheted tablecloth. Eight cane-back chairs stood around the table, a hutch displayed a set of English bone china and a corner cupboard contained a dazzling array of deeply cut crystal. A garish tree-of-life wallpaper accented the wall above the dark three-foot wainscoting.

Opposite the parlor and dining room was Harrison’s office, masculine and overwhelming with its dark wooden furniture, walnut paneling and parqueted floor.

“This could do with a bit of bright color,” Allison said.

“I agree with you, Miss,” Minerva said, “but Mr. Page was a rather somber man. You’ll like the library next door.”

“Oh, yes,” Allison said when she entered the library, as bright as the noonday sun. A glazed chintz lounge stood between two windows hung with balloon curtains. A needlepoint rug covered the floor. Two wicker chairs were upholstered with the same chintz as the lounge and a floral-patterned fabric was draped over the bay window, which looked out to a landscaped garden area. Several needlepoint cushions were displayed throughout the room, and the seats of many small chairs were upholstered with a variety of patterns, ranging from small-scaled flowers with muted backgrounds to a few that portrayed parrots and other tropical birds in bright floral settings.

“Who has done all this handwork?” Allison said, admiring a cushion that had a lifelike representation of a macaw. She appreciated the many hours of painstaking work that had gone into the crocheted doilies and other finely done handwork in the house because her mother always had a needlepoint project under way.

“I’ve done a lot of the crocheting, but Mrs. Page did the intricate work,” Minerva said. “Being an invalid, she devoted most of her time to creating with her needle.”

Noting that there was a desk and chair in one corner of the library, Allison decided this was where she would spend most of her time, rather than in the more formal rooms.

The kitchen had all the modern conveniences—waste disposal, microwave, dishwasher—and Allison clapped her hands in joy when she saw the rounded dinette adjacent to the kitchen. Located in the turret, the dining area was lighted by three curved windows accentuated by airy lace curtains. A round pedestal oak table placed on a ceramic tile floor had four matching chairs around it. A potted African violet bloomed profusely in the middle of the table, and other plants stood on the window ledge.

Allison drew back the curtains and looked out on a high laurel hedge that hid the house next door. Two white iron benches were grouped around an oval matching table, and a tall Greek statue overlooked the scene.

“Oh, what a lovely place! When we look out our kitchen window at home, we see the house next door.” Donald’s house, she thought quickly and pushed the memory aside. “I’ll love having my meals here.”

“Do you have time for a serving of banana cream pie?” Minerva asked.

“I am in a hurry,” Curnutt said, “but I’ll never turn down your pie.”

They sat in the dinette alcove, and while they waited to be served, Allison said, “This is the most fabulous home I’ve ever seen. I’ll try it for several months anyway. It may prove too much for me, and I may feel lost here. Our whole home in Chicago isn’t a quarter this large. It scares me in a way, but I do feel at home already.”

When Minerva brought the pie and a beverage, Curnutt pulled out the extra chairs and said, “Sit down, Minerva, and you, too, Adra. You should be involved in any plans we make for this house.”

Adra declined pie, but drank a cup of coffee.

“First of all, Allison, when do you want to move in?” the attorney said.

“Why not tomorrow? I don’t see any reason to pay for a hotel room when this house is standing empty.”

Minerva nodded approvingly.

The attorney turned to the McRameys. “I assume that you’re willing to stay with Allison under the same arrangements you had with Harrison.”

“More than willing,” Adra said. “We like it here.”

“What are the arrangements?” Allison asked.

“They are paid a salary of one thousand dollars a month, which is all they can earn and still draw their Social Security, but they have free room and board, so it’s a good deal for them. In return for this compensation, Adra takes care of the outdoor work and does general maintenance work. Minerva is the housekeeper, and she did Harrison’s cooking.”

“That sounds like more of a bargain for me than for you,” Allison said. “This house is too large for one woman to take care of. You should have additional help.”

“A cleaning service comes in twice each year to wash the windows and give everything a thorough cleaning,” Minerva said, “but I manage well enough the rest of the time, though you’re sweet to be concerned.”

Curnutt looked at his watch. “Let’s see the rest of the house. I don’t want to be late for my appointment.”

They climbed the wide stairway, Allison in the lead, with the three adults trailing her, each eager to point out interesting things about the house.

Mrs. Page had occupied the turret bedroom and Allison liked it best. A white delicately scrolled iron bed with paleblue dust ruffle was covered with a handmade quilt. The small desk, rocking chair, bookshelves, nightstand, dressing table and a storage chest at the foot of the bed were all white wicker. The rocking chair was cushioned with a delicate fabric, and richly ruffled curtains enlivened the windows that overlooked the back lawn.

“And my own private bathroom, too,” Allison exclaimed when she saw the room with modern pastel-blue fixtures. “This is a suite any woman would enjoy, and it looks like paradise to me.”