the image we have of them.
—Marcel Proust
Lillian Yardley
I was standing outside Lillian’s house and without entering, I already knew the layout and details of the architecture—at least, the way it was back in the Twenties.
I knew in my gut I had been here before and that was probably how I was able to find my way back.
But the shock of recognition caused me to recoil and I actually stepped back in surprise, prompting Tess to grab my arm and pull me in, “C’mon, City Boy—don’t be shy.”
There was no way I could explain to Tess I had been here a hundred years before and knew about the house through dreams..not to mention the life I lived with the girl who occasionally appeared nights at the foot of my bed.
Yeah, I couldn't explain it, so enough said.
We ended up standing in the oak panelled foyer before the same set of stairs I pictured in my head—and that’s when I became aware of Tess’ arms still entwined with mine.
“Just business, eh?” Quinn smirked, “but what’s he appraising?”
“Play nice, Quinn,” Tess glowered. Quinn immediately sobered.
Tess separated from me and instantly I missed the warmth of her body next to mine.
”So, before we begin,” Tess asked Quinn, “is there anything you’re keeping?”
“Just my cool,” she said sweetly.
“Okay, so leave us to our work and we’ll call when we’re done.”
“I’m sure you will,” she smiled, eyes dancing.
Again, Tess gave her a pointed look and Quinn wisely retreated into the bowels of the house.
“Like I said before, don’t get any ideas,” Tess reminded me sternly, but I was already looking past her at a clothes rack in the dining room.
I walked over and gently touched a long white dress.
“This belonged to Lillian, didn’t it?”
Tess looked at me strangely. “Everything on that rack was hers.”
“Can I buy this dress?”
“Of course,” she answered. “Everything here is for sale, but I never figured you to be interested in women’s fashions.”
I recognized the dress because Lillian often wore it in my dreams and was also wearing it when she appeared in my room at the foot of my bed.
I was sure Tess thought me mad, but I had to have it—to own something that touched her skin.
And then I saw something that completely unnerved me—a portrait of Lillian hanging over the fireplace in the den.
I began trembling and had to sit down.
”Are you feeling okay, Marcus? You look pale.”
“I’m just a bit shaky—low blood sugar, I suppose, I skipped breakfast.”
I hated to lie but what could I say—that’s a painting of my dream girl above the mantel?”
“I wish I could say I identify with you, but I never skip meals,” she laughed.
“Why don’t you rest for a few minutes while I scope out the place? I’ll probably make a batch offer anyway and purchase everything, that way Quinn will be happy and we can go for breakfast.”
“Sounds good,” I croaked, still feeling weak and trembly.
I wanted the portrait too and was glad Tess was purchasing it.
There was no way I could explain this to Tess without appearing insane, and being here in Lillian’s house was far too much for me to handle and act normal.
And that was the problem with me—I wanted everything, including Tess, and instinctively I sensed that in the end, that would be my downfall.