Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 91212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
"Thirty-four eighty-five," she says when I roll down my window at the security box.
"The last four of your social," I say from memory. "You shouldn't have such an easily accessible number as your security code."
She scoffs. "You shouldn't memorize my personal information."
I nod my head because she makes a hell of a point as I enter the code into the keypad, rolling up my window when I'm done as I wait for the massive gate to swing open.
"My car is still in DC," she says absently as I drive up the long driveway toward the house.
"I'll make arrangements for it to be brought back. I can have it here tomorrow."
"Thank you," she whispers but it sounds rote, as if a response is expected.
When the house comes into view, I see both the elegance and tastefulness in the design. I can tell from how deep it is that it looks more modest from the front, and I have no doubt that was purposeful. There's nothing worse for a politician than to boast and brag about his success while trying to earn the votes of people who are not as well off.
"You can park in the front," she says as I slow near the fork that leads to the right side of the house where I imagine the garage is.
I wonder as I come to a stop near the front if she's going to change her mind and ask me to go ahead and leave, but she climbs out of the car rather than speaking.
I watch her as I do the same, wondering what's going through her mind as she lifts her eyes to a window on the second floor off to the left. I know without asking that has to be Sadie's room, despite her not having lived here for years. I also imagine there haven't been many times, not counting the last couple of weeks, that she even thought to take a long look at her house. I can only guess she's seeing it differently now, possibly wondering how holidays will be spent in the absence of her sister, not that I know if Sadie even showed her face at such important times before.
I do my best as I follow her inside not to look all around in amazement, but this house is massive.
I've been in staged houses, ones meant to give off the appearance of being lived in, but they were fronts for illegal businesses and sex trafficking dens. Some of the ones wanting to draw in higher paying customers put on a show with expensive-looking furniture and shiny shit as decor, but what I see when I step inside isn't exactly what I'm expecting from judging the outside.
I can tell the place is substantial, but as she shrugs off her coat before holding out her hand for mine, I can tell the place is lived in. It isn't just for show. The abundance of winter coats clogging the small closet near the front door is proof of that despite it only being her and her housekeeper Faye who live here.
"Thank you," I tell her.
It's clear there are touches of her parents in the age of some of the decor, and the grandiose swirls and details around the doors. I don't imagine the place has been updated much, and I can't help but wonder if that's because she feels a connection to it or if she just hasn't bothered to get around to doing something to make this place more of her own than a memory of years past.
When I follow her deeper into the house, I see the transformation from the front part to the back. The room she takes me into seems different, and I feel like it's the first time I'm getting a glimpse at who she might be. The den is cozier. Despite the curves of wood in the design at the front of the house it still seemed to be sharper. This room is softer. The throw pillows on the sofa and the soft-looking blanket tossed carelessly over the back are comforts I imagine she'd never allow where just anyone stopping by for a visit to see.
I wonder if she has to keep things looking the way they do because of her brother's political career. I imagine he'd entertain here despite this not being where he lives. I grow increasingly annoyed with the man and the way he might insist on intruding in her life without care or concern of how it might inconvenience her.
I pull in yet another deep breath and hold my tongue, something I've been doing a lot in recent weeks, especially since shit went down with Hemlock back in Tennessee.
I make a mental note to check in with those guys although I'm sure the case manager working with them now has everything under control.