Twisted Roots (DeBeers 3)

I looked out at the two-story home. As we drew closer. I saw the barns, pigpen. and chicken coop, but the house looked as if it had been lifted out of a historic neighborhood in same city like Charleston and plopped right down in this farmland. It had a twotiered entry porch with more slender Roman columns above. The home just looked too dainty and fancy for what was once a working farm home. It looked more like a home in which elegant parties were held for men in tuxedos and women in long gowns. I could almost hear the music and see the servants circulating with trays of hors d'oeuvres and champagne. No wonder Mrs. Stanton wanted to call it Casa de la Luna, I thought.

Closer yet. I could see mare detail. There was a prominent center gable and side gable. The center gable was embellished with a semicircular window. The front windows were all aligned horizontally and vertically in symmetrical rows. A set of a half dozen steps led up to the short entry porch. The house was covered in a faded pink cream tinted stucco.

"Here we are," Chubs declared bringing the truck to a stop. "Mrs. Stanton, she is set in her ways and more forgetful than ever these days, but she's never been anything but the queen of Southern hospitality."

We all got out of the truck.

"Everything okay?" Heyden whispered.

"Yes."

Chubs led us up the steps to the front entrance.

"I made this here door myself." he said proudly and ran his hand over the embossed heavy dark oak.

"It's a work of art," Uncle Linden said.

"Well, thank you. sir. You been' an ar-teest and all, that means somethin.."

He raised and lowered the ball-shaped knocker made of iron. We could hear the deep, hollow thump traveling through the inside of the house.

"I coulda put in one of them electric door buzzers. but Mrs. LiDiann, she wanted everything to be old-fashioned. Casa de la Luna." he added, smiling and shaking his head.

He had to strike the knocker again, and finally, a few seconds later, the door was opened by a small woman who looked barely five feet tall. She had a pretty face with hazel green eyes and dainty soft features highlighted by her full lips and graceful mouth. Her Confederate gray hair was thin but neatly swept up in a French twist. Two diamond stud earrings set in white gold twinkled in the light of an entryway teardrop chandelier. The earrings weren't ostentatious. They were just enough to accent. In fact, everything about her was elegant and stylish, especially her dark green sundress with bare shoulders and side panels that covered her elbows and lower arms. The color brought out the color of her eyes as well.

She wore a pair of matching green flats. I saw she had a beautiful diamond wedding band and an expensive-looking jeweled oval-shaped watch.

She smiled. "Oh, guests," she declared.

"Yes, ma'am. These nice people broke down in the motor home 'bout a mile down Peach Tree Road. I didn't want to leave them there while I find out if we can get a enzint part they need."

"Of course you didn't. Charles. Please come in." she said, stepping back.

"Thank you," I said. "My name is Hannah. This is my father. Linden Montgomery, and my cousin, Heyden Reynolds."

"Why, I am pleased to meetya'll. Welcome to Casa de la Luna. Just go right into my sittin' room there. and I'll see thatya'll get something cool to drink first. Charles, you do what you have to do to help these people. hear?"

"Yes, ma'am. That's what I intend to do. I'm gonna call Billy Donald."

"Don't tell -me what 'you're going to do. Charles. Just da it." she said, whipping her

consonants. Chubs smiled at us, seemingly enjoying the way this tiny wom

an ordered him about.

"Yes, ma'am," he said and walked down the hallway and off to the left.

"Please go in," she said, indicating the door on our right.

It was a large sitting room with only two small Tiffany lamps lit at the moment, each throwing a pattern of color over the almond-colored walls. When she tamed on an overhead crystal chandelier, a wave of light brightened the room, and it was suddenly like an older woman who had been able to hide her age by using heavy makeup and staving mostly in shadows. The cold, cruel illumination revealed every wrinkle and imperfection. Like such a woman, the room was exposed far what it really was: a room full of very aged and tired furniture and worn area rugs.

However, looking about. I could see that it was truly once a very beautiful room. All of the cornices and moldings were elaborate. The grand fireplace was constructed of rich-looking fieldstone and had a dark cherry mantel upon which was set a miniature grandfather clock stuck on twelve, probably for years. Above it was a grand portrait of what had surely been the senior Mr, and Mrs. Stanton. I could tell from their early 1900s style of clothing and the fact that the woman didn't look at all like Lilliann Stanton. She had red hair and was much taller with coarser features.

Scattered about on tables and pedestals was a collection of small eclectic statuary that included cherubs, men in hunting outfits. Greek gods and goddesses, and one larger one that depicted a mother and daughter holding hands. Other pictures included landscapes in gilded frames.

The sofas and chairs were missing some of their elaborate tassels, the wooden frames worn in spots and the velvety cushions threadbare and pale. Everything looked a bit dusty and neglected, the room resembling some chamber forgotten a long time ago, left to come to a standstill just like the small grandfather clock. I wondered if Mrs. Stanton had entertained any guests for years. She didn't seem to notice any of the imperfections and made no attempt to apologize for the room's condition.

To our left on entering was the doorway to the dining room. It was dark. but I could see a very long table with upholstered high-back chairs and a chandelier above. There looked to be a long mirror on the right wall and a long china cabinet on the left with dinnerware visible behind closed glass doors.