The Wedding Veil(69)
In a matter of a couple days, I was marveling at how quickly life could change. In a matter of hours, I had gone from an island paradise with the bluest water to a hilly mountain oasis. I stood outside Biltmore for a moment, admiring the perfectly manicured rows of emerald-green grass and the home that was certainly from another time, but whose scale and architecture made it seem as if it also belonged to another world. Maybe that’s what had always intrigued me about it most. I could step inside and be transported.
Inside the entrance hall of Biltmore, my meeting spot with my grandmother, I practically ran as I saw her, all ready for walking in her Easy Spirits paired with a skirt suit and pearls. Babs’s idea of casual wear, I guess.
“Let me look at you,” Babs said. “Tan, rested, blonder. You look wonderful in every way.”
I smiled. “So do you, Babs.”
I filled her in on the details of my trip—and the man I’d met—and then, as I looked around, remembered where we were. “It never gets less astonishing, Babs,” I said, taking it all in. “Over all these years of visits, the sheer size, the perfect details… it amazes me every single time.”
Babs nodded. “I just can’t imagine walking up and down those stairs every day.”
I admired the cantilevered feat of construction. “They’re a marvel, aren’t they?”
“Oh, yes,” she said ethereally. And then, “How so?”
I laughed. “The weight of each of these supremely heavy slabs of limestone is counterbalanced by the wall bearing down on it.”
She cocked her head, and I could tell I was losing her. So I just said, “There was an elevator. And they probably had a servant get their things, anyway.”
Babs nodded, and then she struck a pose so regal I could only image she was pretending to be one of the Vanderbilt women. “James, darling, can you fetch my scarf?” she said with an affected accent. “Oh, oops, I forgot my glasses too. At least you’re getting your steps in!”
I smiled at Babs. My grandmother had a joie de vivre that made everyone want to be around her. When Pops died, I was afraid that spark would die too. But, slowly but surely, the spunky woman I had admired my entire life was returning.
We had both been here about a million times, so we forwent the audio guides, choosing instead to simply admire the house—and the wedding gowns of famous movie characters, part of the Fashionable Romance exhibit, that were displayed throughout. Of course, what I really wanted to see was Cornelia’s wedding outfit. But I knew it was here somewhere.
I looked up the staircase again, at the monstrous light fixture that hung down three floors. “Do you know that this chandelier weighs seventeen hundred pounds? That it’s held by a single bolt, which can only be accessed under the roof’s copper dome?” I asked. It made me prickly with excitement. Not that I would ever plan a building remotely like this. No, houses like this were beautiful, but they were impractical and inefficient at best. That was part of being an architect—creating structures that fit the times. This was from a decidedly different one.
Babs raised her eyebrows. “Are these architectural things I hear coming out of your mouth?”
I had spent the entire day before on the phone with guidance counselors, admissions, and even the dean of the NC State School of Architecture. I was bursting to tell someone. “Babs,” I said seriously. “I’m trying to go back to school.”
Babs gasped and put her hand on her heart. “I love seeing you impassioned again,” she said. “It makes me feel so hopeful and happy.”
I was hopeful and happy, too. But then there was that nagging tug of doubt. What if I went back and failed again? Or, worse yet, couldn’t go back at all? The dean had made it very clear that I was going to have to ask Professor Winchester’s permission if I wanted to resume my degree. I had to be prepared that the answer might not be the one I wanted.
My phone beeped with a text, breaking me from my thoughts.
I sighed and held my phone up to Babs. “Hayes again.”
When you get back, please give me a call. Really need to talk to you.
She shook her head. “Just call him, Julesy. Rip off the Band-Aid. You’re sure in your decision, and there’s nothing he can say to change your mind.” When I didn’t respond she repeated, more sternly, eyebrow raised, “There’s nothing he can say to change your mind.”
I laughed. “Yes. Right. Nothing. I have to admit, though,” I whispered—you never knew who could hear you—“that a small part of my moving on has to do with Conner. Well, no. Not Conner. The idea of Conner. I felt like it was too soon for me to start something new.”
She turned to me. “Sweetheart, take it from an eighty-year-old. There is no such thing as too soon.”
“I think I could have loved him,” I admitted. “But I just wasn’t sure it was the right time. I didn’t want to hurt Hayes. And I really do need to find my footing all on my own.”
Babs smiled at me. “Don’t we all, darling. Don’t we all.”
I raised my eyebrow at her. “Are you thinking of Miles?” I stretched his name out in a singsong voice. Last night, Mom had told me all about him and their awkward dinnertime meetup. She was less than thrilled about the idea of Babs moving forward with someone new. I understood Mom’s feelings, and I couldn’t imagine anyone ever trying to fill Pops’s shoes. But I also wanted my grandmother to be happy.