There was a silver speaker box at the gate with a camera, and I rolled my window down to press the white button.
“Ivy! Come on in!” Lola’s voice was shrill through the intercom. The silver box buzzed and the gates rolled apart, separating the gold M. I drove through the gates and up more cobblestone. There were more shady palm trees lining the driveway.
The palm trees soon cleared and the ocean came into view. I collected a breath when I noticed the luxurious mansion built right on a hill, surrounded by turquoise waters from behind.
“Wow.” It was the only word I could muster. I’d always imagined what her home would look like. I saw many photos of the front of her mansion when she’d pose with a new car or just take a photo for her Instagram, but seeing it on social media was nothing like seeing it in person.
The home was stunning—not that I expected anything less. Just like her office, the mansion was practically made of glass. Windows embellished the entire front side of the home, intricately designed in sharp-edged rectangles and squares. The grass was bright and green, the leaves of the palm trees swaying with the wind. A terra-cotta roof covered the large abode, giving it color and life.
I parked and climbed out of the car with the cheap bottle of champagne I’d picked up the night before from a corner store and made my way to the front door. I rang the doorbell and the door opened in a matter of seconds.
A woman who appeared to be in her midthirties, her coily, black hair pulled up into a bun, answered the door. She was dressed in khaki pants, flat black shoes, and a blue shirt with the letter M monogrammed on the heart of it. Her face was clear of makeup, her brows bushy and untamed. The woman really needed them arched and plucked.
“Hey there. You must be Ivy,” the woman said, letting me inside as she took a step back. “I’m Georgia, Mrs. Maxwell’s household manager and personal assistant. Can I take that from you?” She lowered her gaze to the bottle of champagne in my hand and I nodded, handing it to her. “Wonderful. Right this way.” Georgia walked across polished marble floors, the bottle of champagne resting in her palm, and I followed her, but I couldn’t help taking in my surroundings.
Lola’s home was stunning in every way, shape, and form, from the crown molding in the ceilings and well-picked chandeliers to the tan paint on the walls. We passed a sitting area consisting of a matching love seat and single chair made of white leather. I could tell this room was hardly ever used, but a furry gray throw was placed on the top of the love seat, positioned in a way that made the room appear used and cozy.
Georgia continued walking, into a kitchen made predominantly of white marble, from the counters to the backsplash. The counters were a light gray and spotless, and sunlight from the floor-to-ceiling glass double doors bounced off them, the light almost blinding.
Georgia slid open the doors, and as she did, I spotted Lola standing in front of a wide, blue pool, her hip cocked, a cell phone to her ear. She wore a red sleeveless dress that hugged her curves, with gold earrings and gold bangles connected by red rubies. On her feet were red stilettos with gold straps. Why did she always look so great, Marriott? Please explain.
At the sound of the doors opening, she turned around and smiled at me. “Yes, I’ll discuss it in depth tomorrow. I’m just about to have brunch. Talk to you soon.” Lola ended the call and then walked to me, opening her arms. “Ivy!” She sang my name. She gave me a squeeze and I returned one, patting her back for emphasis. “I am so glad you’re here.”
“I wouldn’t have missed it.” Not for the world.
“Would you like something to drink?” Lola offered. “Georgia had our chef whip up these delicious raspberry mimosas. So good. Would you like to try one?”
“Sure, I’ll take one.”
Lola gave Georgia a nod, and she walked off right away, making her way back into the kitchen. When she was gone, Lola walked to a seating area on the deck. It was shaded with a turquoise umbrella, and there were air ducts above, blowing out cool air. An air-conditioned patio? This woman really was rich.
“You have a lovely home, Lola. I can’t believe you get to wake up here every day.”
Lola laughed, but waved it off. Even so, I could tell she was flattered. “Corey chose this place. I just made the most of it. He wanted to be able to park his boat close to the house. No better place than on the bay, I suppose.”