CHAPTER ELEVEN

As difficult as it was, especially after hearing Karen’s threat, I returned to my school assignments and finished them all before considering how to dress for our visit and dinner at Saddlebrook. I was more nervous about this than I had been about attending a new school and facing questions from my peers at a party. The way my father, Ava, and even Karen spoke about Amos Saddlebrook created the image of a king who would be seated on his throne when we arrived. Suddenly, every decision I made for myself, no matter how small it would seem to someone else, grew in importance.

What would Amos Saddlebrook think about me if I chose this dress or that, these shoes or those? It was as if I’d be introduced not only to a king but to a man who had two microscopes for eyes. I could hear Mazy saying, Stop worrying. He puts his pants on like everyone else, one leg at a time.

In the end, I decided to be more like Mazy and not let myself be intimidated. My choices would be for myself, not for him.

I settled on the fishnet fit-and-flare dress. It was wine-colored and knee-length, sleeveless with a round neckline. I recalled Ava calling it casual chic and thought that was what I should want tonight. I was putting it on for the first time since I tried it on at the store. My new double-breasted vegan wool coat to wear over it seemed perfect. The black boots Ava bought both Karen and me completed my look.

Ava had made it crystal clear that we, perhaps especially I, should not wear makeup. For me, that was no big sacrifice. I turned and looked in the full-length mirror. With my hand on my hip, I turned slowly to scrutinize myself from this angle and that. Dare I think I was really attractive? Was it really a sin to admire yourself so? I recalled Mazy telling me that little girls were mostly selfish by nature, and “some never lose that characteristic and become selfish women. Their prized possession is a mirror.”

“Why not boys, too?” I’d asked.

“They’re usually not aware of their looks until they’re teenagers,” she said. “I used to wish I could wash the boys in my classes before they took their seats.”

“You’re overdressed,” I heard Karen say now, and turned to my opened door. How long had she been watching me?

“It’s my first time meeting your grandfather, Karen. It’s very important to everyone, so I think I’d rather be overdressed than underdressed.”

She was wearing a pair of jeans and a light-blue sweater with scuffed running shoes. Was Ava going to let her go like that?

“I told you. Grandpa Amos can tell a bullshitter immediately.”

“Good. I hate when I’m mischaracterized.”

She twisted her lips into her cheek and then rolled her eyes. “Whatever,” she said. “I’m going to finish brushing my hair, get my new jean jacket, and go downstairs. And I’m wearing a little lipstick,” she added defiantly.

“I’ll meet you downstairs.”

She paused, her eyes beady, suspicious. “You’ve been doing your homework?”

I just looked at her. The answer was quite clear in my expression.

“I’m not going to defend you tomorrow,” she threatened.

“I’m sort of used to having to defend myself,” I said.

She turned abruptly and went to her room. I gazed at myself one more time and started downstairs. Despite how brave and defiant I had played it in front of Karen, my heart was thumping so hard that I was sure someone could hear it without a stethoscope.

Daddy was the only one downstairs. He was standing by the kitchenette window gazing out, his hands clasped behind his back. He wore a dark-gray pinstripe suit, and I saw that he had had his hair trimmed today. For a few moments, I stood there gazing at him, my childhood memories rushing in to flood my thoughts.

So often back then, he was in a similar posture standing by a window. I recalled that when my father was in this sort of deep thought, it seemed like the whole world had been put on pause. I remembered that I was afraid to move, to make a sound, because when I did and he turned to look at me, he looked like he didn’t know who I was. It took a few moments for his face to produce a smile. Those few moments were frightening for me. Now, when I thought about it, I realized he was behaving as if I had been able to hear his thoughts, thoughts I was sure he didn’t want heard, especially by me.

“What’s up?” he would say. I’d have nothing to ask other than Why have you been standing there so long? What are you looking at? But I wouldn’t ask. Behind us in the living room, Mama would be sitting and staring at nothing. It was like they were doing everything they could not to look at each other. They were even looking through me.

I would shrug and run off.

I stood there now, waiting.

He turned slowly to face me, just the way he did back then, but he didn’t smile. He glanced toward the stairway and then took a few steps forward, beckoning me to draw closer to him.

“What’s wrong?” I asked in a voice just above a whisper.

Something wasn’t right. I raked through my recent memories. Did I reveal something, make some factual error?

“The nurse who was Mazy’s friend reported you missing,” he said. “The police consider you a runaway because of your age.”

“Oh. Someone saw me on the train? Are they going to come looking for me here?”

“Eventually, they might. There are so many runaways these days that I’m sure they’re overburdened, but it’s a concern nevertheless.”

“What should we do?”

“There is one simple solution to end all the tension and worry. I tested it out on Ava, even though she doesn’t know the real reason why. She’s not opposed. Ava and her father, as I’ve told you, are often at wit’s end with each other. It’s complicated, but despite their disagreement, even about something as inconsequential as the color of a bath towel, she wouldn’t do anything involving legal issues or business issues without his blessing. So I’ll be looking for that tonight.”

“Legal issues? What legal issues?”

“I suggested we formally adopt you,” he said.

“What?” I started to smile. My own father is going to adopt me?

“We’re pretty connected to the judiciary system here. I think we could put it on fast track, as long as Amos Saddlebrook doesn’t throw up any roadblocks.”

“But you’ll have to tell the truth in a court, won’t you?”

He smiled. “It will be handled by a family court judge who is actually Amos’s best friend’s son. If there’s an inquiry and we’ve done that, it will be the end of it. So,” he said, glancing toward the stairway when we heard a door close upstairs, “just win the old man over tonight. Put on that Anders charm. I’ll handle the rest.”

“Win the old man over? The first time we meet?”

Daddy smiled. “You can do it. Look at all you’ve done in so short a time already.”

Karen appeared and looked from Daddy to me and then back at him. The expressions on our faces surely lit up her suspicions.

“Did she say something about me?” she demanded. I breathed relief. She was totally off the mark.

“What? No. What could she say? We were just talking about Saddlebrook.”

“Oh,” she said, but still looked at me distrustfully. I couldn’t even begin to imagine what her reaction would be to my officially being her sister now, albeit an adopted one. “Garson is crying again. Celisse is having trouble, and Mother’s upset.”

“Okay. I’ll see what’s up,” Daddy said.

He hurried back to the stairs.

“What did he tell you about Saddlebrook?” Karen asked the instant he was gone.

“He said it’s very big, so big that your voice could echo in some rooms.”

“I already told you that. It’s the biggest house in the county, with the most land. In it there’s a room just for parties, a ballroom, Grandpa’s office, which is bigger than the president’s, and six bedrooms. One is reserved for me anytime I want to sleep over. It used to be mine when I was very little. Grandpa Amos doesn’t let anyone else sleep in it or in Mother’s old room, either. The ballroom is in the rear of the house and has its own small kitchen just for parties. I’m going to have my graduation party there, maybe even my Sweet Sixteen. It will be the most important invitation of all that year.”

She opened the refrigerator and looked at me.

I was tempted to ask her about when she lived at Saddlebrook and when Daddy wasn’t here most of the time. What did she remember? Did he always call himself her father? How did he explain his long absences? People remember things differently, especially young children. She might not have the vivid memories of her parents that I did, especially since she didn’t see Daddy daily. She had yet to mention anything significant about that time. I was filled with curiosity, but I was afraid of opening up a jar full of angry bees.

“You want some white wine? If I pour it quickly…”

She took out a bottle less than half full.

“No, thank you,” I said.

“No, thank you,” she mimicked, and poured herself some. I watched her gulp it down.

“That’s not the way to drink wine,” I said.

I remembered when Mazy and I had discussed it, and she showed me how to enjoy good wine and how to tell if it was good or not. We’d been going to have something special on my next birthday.

“I drink with my mouth. What do you use?” Karen said.

“No one’s ever shown you how to smell wine, check its color, taste it correctly? Besides, you sip it, not gulp it like water.”

“Yes, yes, but that’s all boring,” she said. She took a breath. “Grandpa Amos showed me how to tell good wine. Listening to him go on and on about the vineyards, the weather, all of it, you can fall asleep before you take a taste. He’ll have it at dinner, I’m sure, and we’ll hear a small speech about the wine, where it comes from, how old it is, or what big, important person gave it to him.”

“So he lives alone in this big house?”

“No. After Victoria Austen died, he hired a new live-in housekeeper who’s almost as old as he is, Rebecca Johnson, who we call Miss Becky, his chef, Tommy Edwards, who was a chef in the navy, an army of grounds people there every day, and his limousine driver who lives above the garage, the guy who took us shopping for your tons and tons of things.”

“Tons? You got quite a bit, too.”

“Not half as much as you.”

“But you didn’t need as much as I did.”

“Whatever,” she said. She gulped some more wine, just to annoy me, I thought. She couldn’t be enjoying it.

We heard a door close upstairs. She put her glass in the sink after rinsing it out quickly.

“What did you get out of gulping that?” I asked, just before Ava and Daddy appeared.

She grimaced. “A lot more than I would from water,” she said. “You’ll wish you had done it when you get to Saddlebrook.”

“Wish you had done what?” Daddy asked as soon as he appeared.

“Smoked pot.”

“What?” He looked at me, and I looked away. “Celisse got him to sleep,” Daddy said. “Poor thing’s suffering with that teething.”

“Poor thing?” Ava said, coming up behind him.

Daddy reddened. “Just an expression. Speaking of things, let’s get these two moving,” he added, smiling at us.

Karen spun dramatically toward the garage door, acting as if she was making a great sacrifice of her precious time.

Ava looked me over closely. “Very nice,” she said.

“Thank you.”

Karen had already gotten into the car in the garage. We followed her. Daddy opened the door for Ava, but she stood there looking in at Karen.

“That’s what you chose to wear to Sunday dinner at Saddlebrook?”

“Grandpa doesn’t care as long as I don’t wear my ripped jeans.”

“Well, I do,” Ava said. “If we weren’t going to be late, I’d have you change.”

She got in.

Once we drove out, Ava turned and looked at us. She’s going to say something now about their adopting me, I thought, and braced myself for Karen’s reaction.

“I don’t want Grandfather Amos knowing anything about this disastrous event at the Tobys’ house last night, so don’t bring it up in an effort to get him to reduce your punishment, Karen.”

Ava looked at me and nodded to emphasize it applied to me as well, even though I hadn’t yet met her father. How could I ask him for anything?

“It’s unfair,” Karen muttered. She folded her arms, looked at me, and turned to stare out the window.

Once we left the village of Sandburg Creek, we drove a few miles down a nice two-lane highway with houses on both sides, most with one or two acres of property, many quite modern-looking ranch-style homes. We passed a dairy farm on the right, and then Daddy turned left on a much narrower road with thick woods. The unusually warm fall had kept the leaves from drenching the ground beneath them. It was as if we were parting a sea of yellow and brown around us. After a mile or so, the woods just suddenly ended and opened to flowing fields of fading fall green, rolling small hills, and then Saddlebrook seemingly rising on the right as we drew closer. A driveway of what seemed to be another mile led to the large house with a four-door separate garage on the right.

The house itself looked long enough to be three houses joined. It had two stories in a rectangular shape with a gabled roof. The arched black front door was right at the middle of the house, and all the windows on both floors were in pairs, evenly spaced. It had redbrick facing, with two white columns at the entrance. There was a decorative pediment of curves and swirls above the large front entrance.

If there was ever a house with adjoining property that looked like it belonged to the lord of a manor, this was it, I thought, as I gazed at the well-manicured hedges with fountains of all shapes and sizes spaced along the front. The small army of grounds people Karen had mentioned were scattered over the property, raking, trimming, and doing some digging to clear ditches. There were two tall oak trees on each side of the house, their golden leaves barely lifting in the soft breeze. Stone benches, more to be decorative than used, were placed between the trees on both sides.

In the distance, the mountains loomed against a darkening afternoon sky. I imagined the forest had been pruned years and years ago to fit the needs of the home some earlier owner had envisioned. Later I would learn that Amos Saddlebrook’s great-grandfather had purchased the property. He’d had a small home that Amos’s grandfather tore down to build the heart of what Amos would expand into his mansion.

I saw a barn in the rear of the house when we made the turn into the wide circular parking area. And off to the left was a swimming pool with a cabana and what looked like a bar. Chaise lounges were stacked neatly on one side. Behind the barn was a corral.

“Does Mr. Saddlebrook have horses?” I asked when I saw it.

“My grandfather did. My father has no interest in having any,” Ava said.

“He was going to buy me a pony,” Karen said. “But you told him not to.”

“It would need constant care, and you wouldn’t do it, Karen,” Ava said.

Boy, I sure would, I thought.

“About a half mile down on the right, there is a natural lake fed by waters from Sandburg Creek,” Ava said. “My father used to stock it with fish. There’s still some. When I was Karen’s age, I used to fish with my father and sometimes my mother.”

“Boring,” Karen sang.

After we parked, Daddy winked to boost my courage as we walked toward the entrance. Seconds before we got there, the large door was opened, and a short woman, with gray hair speckled with the remnants of her darker brown and swept up in a neat bun, smiled at us. She wore a light-blue ankle-length dress with heavy-heeled black shoes that added another inch or so to her height. Her grayish-blue eyes were warm, brightening her smile that nestled so gracefully in her circular face with puffy cheeks. Her smooth complexion looked resistant to age.

“Saw you pulling up in that security camera he’s so proud of,” she said, stepping back. “Used to be we enjoyed a surprise visitor now and then.”

“Times have changed, Miss Becky,” Ava said. “Dramatically. Surprises are more often dangerous or annoying than not.”

“Ain’t that the sorrowful truth, though,” she said, and gave me a wider, friendlier smile. “And you’re the poor lost little lamb.”

“Baa,” Karen said.

“Oh, dear.” She gave Karen a stern look and then smiled at me. “I’m Miss Becky,” she said, offering me her hand.

“Saffron,” I said, taking it.

“What a beautiful name. For your hair, of course.”

“Someone told me it’s something you eat,” Karen offered.

“Yes,” Miss Becky said. “Saffron oil. Mr. Saddlebrook is in the study,” she said, and we entered the house, immediately confronting the grand stairway with its thick mahogany banisters and red carpeted steps, which were wide enough for three people to walk up side by side. What appeared to be a newly laid dark-oak floor ran off the entry carpet. It was so polished it looked like you could skate over it. The stairway seemed to have been placed to separate the two sides of the first floor, as the hallway ran left and right in what were equal lengths. Ava turned right immediately, and we all followed her to the study.

My eyes were instantly drawn to a large painting. The gilt-framed portrait of a beautiful, elegant-looking woman whom Ava resembled was hung above the fireplace, one of the largest fieldstone fireplaces I had ever seen, even in pictures, even in pictures of castles. The woman in the portrait was looking off slightly to her left so that the artist could capture her beautiful profile while still highlighting her violet eyes. She was holding a bouquet of white and red roses and looked to be in her late twenties at most. She wasn’t wearing a wedding dress. It was an off-the-shoulder, lead-silver dress with an embroidered bodice. It had a tiered skirt. Her light-brown hair was brushed to her right side and lay softly over her shoulder and breast.

At first, I didn’t realize anyone was there. My eyes drifted down to the man seated in a coral shell–colored oversize chair with rolled arms and nailhead trim. He looked like he sat comfortably, but he kept his back firmly against the chair so that he sat very straight, his arms placed on the rolled arms with his hands palms down. On his left hand was a large gold pinkie ring with an oval diamond that glittered in the light dropping from the two large teardrop chandeliers. His thick, clear-plastic-framed glasses rested on the bridge of his chiseled nose. They magnified his steel-grayish blue eyes. His full, masculine lips were poised to fold into a smile, but probably a tight one because of his narrow cheeks and almost embossed jawbone outlined in his light complexion. His silvery hair was sharply trimmed and, I imagined for a man in his eighties, still quite thick.

I would never have guessed he was that old anyway. His eyes looked lit with interest and the curiosity of a man much younger, and even seated, he looked slim, tall, and athletic. His black, highly polished shoes sat flat on the white, fluffy area rug that covered that part of the same dark-oak wood as in the hallway.

Everything about him seemed perfect, from the crisp knot in his light-blue tie to the sharp crease in his pants. He sat so still that for a moment, I imagined him drawn and painted there, the portrait of the Saddlebrook patriarch, as regal as any king. There was an air of immortality and power about him. And yet I felt nothing terrifying and angry flowing from him the way Ava often portrayed him.

So this was why Karen thought her grandfather would live forever, sometimes regretfully so, I thought. There was nothing really elderly or infirm in his appearance. He had the ruddy complexion of a man half his age.

“You two never looked more like parents of teenagers,” he said, his lips forming the smile I was anticipating, although this smile was somewhat impish.

As we drew closer, I thought he was a good-looking older man. There was something confident and refined in his face, and with that youthful touch, it created a subtle sexiness. Some of the firmness I saw in Ava obviously had come from him, but I felt he could flash it on and off with almost a flick of his wrist.

“Being that we are,” Ava said, “that’s not much of a profound observation, Daddy.”

“You’d be surprised at how many people don’t look like what they really are,” he replied. “So this is Saffron,” he said, not waiting for an introduction. He nodded at me, and although no one had asked me to, I felt drawn to step forward quickly.

“Hello, Mr. Saddlebrook,” I said. “I’m in awe of your house and the grounds.”

He stared for a long moment like someone trying to see if I were really sincere.

“The result of many years of tender loving care,” he said. He looked at Karen. “So, granddaughter, how are you two getting along? It must be nice having someone your age sharing your home.”

“She’s all right,” Karen said, looking at me. “And will be better once she learns how to be a teenager.”

Her grandfather laughed. “I don’t know as being a teenager provides any advantage these days, eh, Derick?”

“Too much static,” Daddy said. Amos Saddlebrook nodded as though they shared some secret about my generation.

“Well, everyone get comfortable.” He nodded at the half-moon sofa across from him. “I had Miss Becky open one of the bottles of Veuve Clicquot champagne the French ambassador gave me for my birthday last year.”

“Ugh. I hate champagne,” Karen said.

“You’re not drinking it anyway,” Ava said.

We crossed the study to the sofa. There was another easy chair on the right. The floor of the study was covered with a large rug woven in hues of bright sage green and light orange. Ava sat in the far right corner of the sofa, and Daddy sat beside her. I waited for Karen to sit next to him, but she was practically moaning with boredom and struggling to move forward, so I did.

“What a beautiful rug,” I said.

“It’s Moroccan. My wife bought this on one of our trips,” Amos Saddlebrook said. “I’m surprised you noticed. Most of Karen’s friends move through here as if they wore blinders. This was quite the exciting buy.”

Karen rolled her eyes and plopped down beside me.

“Might be another long, dreary story,” she warned.

Miss Becky brought in the champagne in an ice bucket. A young African American woman followed her with a tray of champagne glasses and some dip and crackers.

“May I introduce Molly Carter?” Amos Saddlebrook said. “Just hired last Tuesday to assist Miss Becky with her duties.”

Molly smiled at us. She looked no more than seventeen.

“Would you like to taste the champagne, Saffron?” Amos Saddlebrook asked me.

I was surprised. I looked at Ava, but she was looking down as if she were trying to control her anger. Was there always rage dancing around her when she confronted her father? She had made no attempt to greet him warmly, kiss his cheek, anything. He could be any stranger.

“Yes, please.”

He nodded at Miss Becky, who started to pour five glasses.

“None for me. I’ll have a Coke,” Karen said.

Miss Becky nodded at Molly, who turned quickly, obviously to fetch it. Then Miss Becky brought glasses to Ava, me, and Daddy before she brought one to Amos Saddlebrook. Molly must have run to the kitchen. Before we had a chance to sip our champagne, she hurried back with a glass of Coke for Karen.

She took it, and a good beat went by before she said, “Thank you.”

“Okay,” her grandfather said after Miss Becky and Molly left. “Let’s toast Saffron’s arrival, not under the best circumstances but hopefully the right place for her to be at this time.”

I sipped the champagne.

“Thank you,” I said.

“How’s Garson?” he asked Ava.

“His teething is not getting any better, and he’s had bouts of diarrhea and vomiting. I’m taking him to Dr. Ross tomorrow.”

“You’d think all the pain and trouble we have coming into this world would convince us not to,” he said. He looked at Karen. “You helping with your brother?”

“He’s got Celisse, but I help whenever I’m asked to, Grandpa.”

“Helping has more meaning when you do it before anyone asks you to,” he said.

She groaned. “Did Grandma have anything to do with making Mommy? She’s more like your clone, or what’s that character who popped out of Zeus’s head?” she asked, looking to me. “My class just learned about it in literature class.”

“Athena,” I said. “She became his favorite child.”

“Yeah, well, Mommy never had any competition. It’s harder when you have competition.”

I stared at her. Was she referring to herself and her baby brother? Once again, I wondered what was going to happen when she learned about her parents’ intentions for me.

“How do you like our school, Saffron?” Amos Saddlebrook asked, ignoring Karen.

“It’s the nicest school I’ve ever seen. It’s beautiful. I like my teachers, too.”

“That’s good. I heard you’re an honors student.”

“I hope I’ll continue to be.”

“If you were capable of it in more unfortunate circumstances, you surely will be here. What do you favor, math? Science? Literature?”

“Math and literature, grammar.”

“Interesting combination. A little unusual, I’d think.”

“There’s a mathematical way of learning grammar,” I said. Mazy had tutored me in it.

Amos Saddlebrook’s eyes widened with what I hoped was delighted surprise.

“Can I show her the house?” Karen blurted, clearly indicating she hated our topic.

“In a minute,” her grandfather said sharply. “Let her finish her champagne. You know I don’t like people walking about the house with drinks and food in their hands.”

Karen sat back, already pouting. I was actually hoping she and I would tour the house and, while doing so, she’d say something about her early years here.

I sipped my champagne surely faster than I should.

“Having more than one interest is good. A variety will give you more opportunity in life,” Amos Saddlebrook told me. “Travel, education, books, meeting new people, is something to seek. Have your sights set on anything yet?”

“No, sir,” I said.

“She’ll probably become a teacher,” Karen offered. “She’s practically one now.”

“Oh? In what ways?”

“I think she means how I’ve helped her with her homework,” I said.

Karen looked away and sipped her Coke.

“Well, you can be grateful for that, Karen,” he said. “Your parents don’t have to pay for a personal tutor.”

She raised her eyes toward the ceiling.

“All right. You can show her the house, Karen. Leave your drinks here. Dinner will be served in ten minutes,” he said. “Tommy’s prepared some of your favorite dishes.”

Karen popped up and looked at me. “C’mon. We don’t have that much time. It’s a big place to do in ten minutes,” she said.

I looked at Amos Saddlebrook. His eyes were so focused on me that I was almost afraid to move. Then he gave me a slight nod, and I rose. I glanced at Daddy, who nodded slightly. He was clearly telling me this would give them the opportunity to discuss my adoption. Ava looked tense, her gaze focused on the portrait of her mother. Was there always going to be this sort of family tension? Was anyone really happy?

I followed Karen out.

“He’s usually not that nice to strangers,” she said when I caught up.

“I’m not a stranger. You’d think you would know that by now.”

“He’s never met you, so you’re a stranger,” she insisted. “Let’s look at the ballroom first. Grandpa Amos keeps only a few chairs and tables folded up in it. When I was ten, I was permitted to attend a party he had for my mother’s birthday. It was the first time I could stay for most of the party. There was a band on a small stage they put together like a puzzle.”

“Puzzle?”

“You know, sliding sections. You’re sure you’re not from some other country?”

She led me down to the end of the hall, where we went through a double-door entrance to a large room with the same wood floor. There were two large windows at the rear draped in gold silk curtains. As she had described, there were a few chairs scattered along the side and in the far right corner a pile of folding tables. Besides its size, I saw nothing exciting about it.

“I imagine when everything is set up,” I said, seeing she was expecting some sort of great reaction, “with some decorations…”

“You have to use your imagination a little. Balloons hanging from the ceiling, crepe paper everywhere, music piped from large speakers, and tables and tables of great food, cakes, and drinks. We had Grandpa’s eightieth birthday party here. Even the governor stopped by. There were congressmen and senators, and I was permitted to bring five friends. You can imagine the competition to get the invite.”

“I’m sure. Did you play in here when you were very little?” I asked. The question surprised her.

“No,” she said quickly. “I was too little to be left alone. Let’s go.”

As we walked back to the stairs, she pointed out a more formal living room, not quite as large as the study, and then the dining room. Miss Becky and Molly were still setting up the long dark-maple wood table with the large teardrop chandelier above it. There was a mirror the length of the wall on one side.

“Grandpa’s office is on the other end of the house. He has a separate entrance and parking lot for his business visitors.”

I saw that the kitchen was down on the right, just across from the dining room. We just glimpsed it as we passed by, but it looked four times the size of Ava’s.

“All the bedrooms are upstairs, three on each side of the stairway,” Karen said. “C’mon. You can look at all that later.”

I had paused to look at the art and a case that contained figurines.

“What are those?” I asked.

“Lladrós… from Spain or something. My grandmother collected them. My mother says they’re worth a lot, but who would buy them?”

She hurried up the stairs ahead of me.

“I do remember something funny,” she said when she reached the top. “This was like climbing a mountain. Grandfather still calls it ‘Karen’s Mountain.’ ”

I continued to follow her.

Everything we saw, every room, was very large, the bedrooms especially. The room she said was her mother’s had what anyone would call a small living room as part of it, differentiated with a small step down. Although the vintage furniture had never been replaced since Ava left to live where they lived now, it all looked brand-new. It was obvious that the room was looked after daily. In a strange, almost eerie way, it was as if the room was being prepared for Ava to move back into any day, in fact any moment.

“What do you call this furniture?” I asked.

Karen broke into a wide smile. She knew something I did not.

“Grandpa never stops bragging about the furniture my grandmother bought and had made. This is called American Empire. My mother’s canopy bed is called the Portsmouth Pineapple Bed. The posts are hand-carved. The wood is called tiger maple.”

“Tiger?”

“Grandpa says they make guitars out of the same wood. You’d better tell him it’s beautiful. Anything my grandmother did is beautiful or perfect.”

She paused as I looked more closely at the furniture. I sensed she had something else to say, something maybe more important to me.

“My mother thinks she’ll never live up to her mother in her father’s eyes.”

“Who said so? Did she say that?”

“I’m not really stupid, Saffron.”

“I didn’t say you were.”

“I don’t need it spelled out. I won’t ever live up to my mother in her eyes, either,” she said. “It’s a family tradition to be inferior. What about you and your mother?”

“We were never in competition,” I said. Maybe we would have been, I thought, but not like this. When a family is this arrogant, they never think anyone else could compete except other family members. In this moment, I felt sorry for Karen, even sorrier than I felt for myself.

“What about your father? Didn’t he sleep in this room?”

“Sometimes. I don’t remember all the details, but he was away working a lot, and then, suddenly, when I was starting school, we moved out.”

“Were they married here? In the ballroom, maybe?”

“No, they eloped or something. Grandpa wasn’t happy about it. My mother and him, he,” she quickly corrected, “still argue about it.” She paused and then whispered, “Because they didn’t get married until a while after I was born.”

“Oh, and then—”

We heard a bell ringing.

“Dinner,” Karen said. “I’ll show you the rest of the house later.”

She started out. I looked again at the room in which Ava had grown up and that my father had shared periodically. You didn’t have to be a brain surgeon to realize Amos Saddlebrook wasn’t happy with his daughter’s romance and pregnancy. It was probably very unpleasant for her being practically imprisoned here. No wonder she wanted her own home.

I could almost believe she made Daddy marry her eventually just to get out of here. Was it love or a desire to escape? How did Daddy navigate all this? How much did my mother know? It seemed to me he was boiling a pot of lies most of the time.

Maybe it was better for me not to navigate all the mystery. Where would it lead me?

I couldn’t imagine more of the truth bringing happiness.

Mazy’s adage resonated: Ignorance is bliss. Sometimes, I thought, but for now, surely here.

It wasn’t possible to open a door or turn a page without my fingers trembling.