Ellie scans the room, wide-eyed. I can tell she is both in shock and in awe. I certainly am.
Rhonda looks over her shoulder while hanging yet another oil painting over Annie Laurie’s bed. She’s holding a drill. I read somewhere only peel-and-stick picture hangers were allowed, but obviously I was wrong.
“Hang on, y’all; I’ll beriiightthere.” She lays the drill on the bed, straightens the painting. After wiping her hands on her pants, she shakes all of ours. “Hey, I’m Rhonda. Don’t mind me, I’m a little cray-cray today. I usually looka whole lot better than this.” She looks fantastic to me. Blue jeans and a cold-shoulder top. Gorgeous jewelry. A nice, shoulder-length hairdo. She’s a beautiful woman.
Haynes tells her hello, but offers no small talk. Instead he walks right over to the man who’s helping her. “Here, let me help you with that, man.” Haynes holds the right end of the oversize painting while the man slips the picture wire over the hook.
“Thank you, sir,” the man says. “Now you and your family sit down and relax. I’ma do this.”
“No relaxing for me today. I’m here to work,” Haynes says, rubbing his hands together. “I’m Haynes Woodcock.” He shakes the gentleman’s hand.
“Maurice Robinson. All right.” Mr. Robinson’s dark, curly hair is streaked with gray. Deep lines wrinkle his forehead. His jowls droop, and at first glance he appears to be in his seventies, but when he smiles straight white teeth make him appear much younger. Haynes turns and introduces him to Ellie and me. I notice Lilith and Gage exchange a look.
“I’m texting Annie Laurie,” Lilith announces. “She’s down the hall playing.”
Within sixty seconds, Annie Laurie bursts through the door. “Hey!” She rushes over to hug Ellie.
I can tell it’s a bit awkward for our daughter. Most of the time she’s an extrovert, but there are times when shyness takes over. This is one of those times.
Ellie hugs her back, tells her hello, but simply gives her a coy smile. She looks around, taking it all in. Annie Laurie’s bed has already been lofted and made. It looks like one on display in a specialty linen store.
“Ellie, I’m gonna tell you what I told Annie Laurie,” Rhonda says. “Y’all wait to unpack till I’m done. Just go around the floor visiting for now; meet new friends. And when you come back you’ll be walking inside Ole Miss Dorm Room of the Year. Y’all scoot.” She makes a brushing motion with her hands and the girls leave.
Their room is at the end of the hall. A corner room meant for three—another of Lilith’s suggestions—but the University turned it into a double, charging the occupants a premium.
Gage, now back on the couch, offers us the other half of his breakfast sandwich, but we politely decline. His feet are propped up on an upholstered ottoman. It’s then that I notice his loafers: Ferragamo with no socks. Togetherwith his pink Bermuda shorts, linen shirt, and Smathers & Branson Ole Miss needlepoint belt, he’s utterly Palm Beach. Haynes has on a well-worn pair of khaki shorts, one of his Ole Miss golf shirts, and his old tennis shoes. It’s moving day.
Rhonda gets back to work and Haynes jumps in to assist Mr. Robinson with lofting Ellie’s bed.
Lilith was Lily in college, and ever since we’ve been reacquainted I’ve had to stop myself from calling her by that name. I know there are women who go back to their given names after a while, but it’s terribly confusing if you ask me. She takes me by the hand and points out the detailing on the furnishings. “Would you look at these headboards,” she says, running her hand lightly over the gray linen fabric with pink piping. They were custom cut, rounded at the edges, and have been turned to face each other, as if they are daybeds. “The girls can use them as queens when they move into their apartment next year.”
This makes me feel a tiny bit better, I suppose.
Two large Euro shams are made of matching pink linen, ruched on the edges, with Annie Laurie’s monogram swirled in a white linen fabric. Coordinating throw pillows, pink and white, are piled on top of the bed and a white leather step stool sits underneath a cascading throw. A large round bolster made of silk appliqués takes up half the bed, and two iron sconces flank the headboard on the wall. Lilith points to a white quilted coverlet and what appears to be a white chinchilla throw. “Doesn’t this fabulous fake look real?”
“Sure does,” I say, meaning it.
Lilith bends down to show me the bed skirt. It’s gray linen, matching the headboard, with a wide ribbon of pink an inch from the bottom. And it’s on a sliding rod so the girls can pull it back to access whatever they plan to store underneath. A mirrored chest serves as a bedside table between the two beds and two lamps made of ceramic pitchers swirled with colorful designs are on either side. Their shades are trimmed with silk, matching the color in the pitchers.
I reach out and touch one of the lamps, feeling the coolness of the pottery against my fingertips. “These are beautiful.”
“They’re maiolica,” Lilith says. “Aren’t they fabulous?”
“Real majolica?”
“You’re thinking of Victorian majolica pottery you see in every antique store. This is Italian maiolica. With an I instead of a J. Very different.”
“I didn’t know there was a difference,” I say sheepishly, as my heart lurches in shame.
“Oh yeah,” Rhonda says without turning around. “Big difference.”
The little couch has more coordinating velvet pillows and another fur throw. There’s a tall floor lamp next to the door. A round upholstered ottoman with a large tray on top serves as a coffee table. There are not one, but two, windows in the room and the window coverings are nicer than anything we have in our entire house. Two woven bamboo shades are underneath gorgeous linen draperies that puddle on the floor.
Across from the couch are two study desks, which have been converted into vanities. The desk chairs have monogrammed covers. Custom-cut mirrors top the surfaces and white linen covers have been made to hide the content stored underneath. Each vanity is topped with two lamps that flank matching jewelry boxes and lighted makeup mirrors. Framed mirrors are above each vanity and a flat-screen TV hangs over the door, attached to a swivel for easy viewing.
The room actually has three closets, all of them in a row. Instead of closet doors, curtains that match the ones on the windows hang over the openings. They are topped by pink linen valances trimmed in velvet to match the velvet throw pillows on the sofa and the pink linen band around the dust ruffle. I can’t help noticing the third closet is already three quarters of the way full of Annie Laurie’s dresses.
Finally, there is a luscious gray-and-white wool rug patterned in an Alhambra motif and another small animal skin rug under the coffee table.Please tell me that’s fake,I keep thinking, because at this point nothing would surprise me. Towel racks are hung behind the dorm-room door and fluffy towels bearing each of the girls’ monograms, are already in place. The only thing left to do is make up Ellie’s bed.
