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Blue october approaching normal torrent11/13/2022 So her mother was around somewhere, she thought. In her stockinged feet, Lorenza padded to her right, through a suite of reception rooms linked by double doors there was no sign of anyone in the morning room, the salon, the library or the ballroom, beyond, which ran the full depth of the house and led into the orangery.Īs she returned through the library, Lorenza noticed her mother’s reading glasses lying by a scatter of papers on the silver-gray carpet. Lorenza had only to watch her mother stroke her six black cats-sinuous, small panthers-to know that she loved with her hands and longed for a grandchild to cuddle. At last she was pregnant! She’d married Andrew sixteen months ago, in June 1983, and since the day she’d returned from her honeymoon her mother had looked hopeful. Lorenza had the same abundant but wispy russet hair as the anxious-looking lady in the pale-gray satin ballgown, but she didn’t have the same twenty-inch waist Lorenza was chubby, like her mother, especially now. “Robbed? Raped? Kidnapped? Where do you think they all are, Greatgrandma?” She wandered back into the hall and looked up at the lifesize Sargent portrait of her great-grandmother. She patted its stone head, as she always did when she came home, then pulled off her sable coat and draped it over the lion it was warm for the end of October. Once again, Lorenza gave the bell three peremptory tugs, then walked over to one of the ancient stone lions that stood at the top of the steps. She gazed around the quiet parkland that fell away on all sides from the house to distant woods and the Ohio River, but she saw nobody. In stockinged feet, Lorenza walked back outside the front door and glanced beyond her red Ferrari Mondial, carelessly parked askew at the bottom of the steps. “Where is everybody?” she called, as she stepped onto the old York stone of the entrance hall and kicked off her scarlet pumps. For twenty-three years-all her life-she had seen daydream pictures in the door’s wizened indentations as she waited for it to be opened. She had known its weathered vertical ridges all her life her great-grandfather had brought this wooden door, along with the rest of the manor house, from the Cotswolds across the Atlantic to Pennsylvania. She pushed at the blackened, heavy medieval door. That was odd, thought Lorenza, because since that silly kidnap threat, the invisible security precautions at home had been rigorous.
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