“This will be Adam’s favorite,” I say to Ted, nodding at my brother’s titles on her shelf.
Rini shows us the classic white kitchen with its stocked fridge, and then the stately study that smells of leather and old textbooks.
“This is where you’ll have the private astrological readings,” Rini says.
Ted claims the game parlor as his spot because it has billiards and shuffleboard in addition to full-size Ms. Pac-Man and Frogger machines. I can’t choose a favorite. Each room on the first floor is swathed in jewel tones, emerald green, ruby red, sapphire blue, and citrine yellow, like a real life Clue house.
I notice that some of the windows are small and thick with imposing panes while others are expansive and frameless. I ask Rini about the stark difference.
“These rooms were part of the original house, built in 1894,” Rini says. “This area of Long Island gets summer storms and violent winds during hurricane season. Now, we have better methods of protection, but then, they had little choice but to limit the windows.”
Rini leads us past the formal dining room to another living room.
“Wow,” Ted and I say in unison.
The Stars Harbor showstopper is the floor-to-ceiling windows. It’s as if the high tide could bring the ocean inside.
“Ironic, isn’t it? That modern touches allow for the centuries’ old natural beauty to shine,” Rini says.
“That’s the Atlantic?” Ted asks.
“The Long Island Sound, an estuary of the Atlantic,” Rini says. “Shall we get upstairs to the suites?”
The back of the house also boasts twenty-foot ceilings, with a second staircase, this one built into the wall like a colonial, camouflaged.
“Was that a servant staircase?” I ask.
“You know your old houses,” Rini says. “We kept it for subtlety. Is there anything more unsightly than a housekeeping cart blocking your room? You won’t see that here.”
We follow Rini to the grand staircase in the front of the house. I run my hand along the smooth stained wood. At the top we land on plush cream carpet.
“I’ve got you set up in the Gemini Suite,” Rini says. “I assure you it’s the best room in the house.”
Ted and I both nod. He’ll take her word for it and collapse on our bed. I will satisfy my curiosity by looking in every room before the others arrive.
“In case you are inclined to explore, a reminder that the suites in the second wing on the east side of the staircase are not open to your group,” Rini adds.
“Why not?” I ask.
“Because you have all you need in this wing,” she says with a smile.
Rini opens the door marked GEMINI with a symbol beneath it. The walls are painted seafoam and the curtains are a bold yellow-and-green pattern. The bed is framed by a gold slat headboard and has an ivory duvet. It’s tasteful, an understated Versailles, but the kind of piece you’d be sick of after a few months at home.
“I’ll leave you here, Mr. and Mrs. Flynn.”
I clear my throat, preparing to speak up.
“It’s actually Margot Flynn and Ted Williams,” I say.
I notice Rini glance at my ring finger.
“You’ll change it when you have children,” she states.
“I don’t think so,” Ted says kindly but firmly.
“It’s fine,” I interject.
Normally I would have engaged in a prolonged debate, dismantling her antiquated ideas around surnames that treat women like property. Or I would have probed into how hurtful her comment could be to someone facing infertility. But neither lawyer Margot nor trying-to-conceive Margot has been invited on this trip.
Rini isn’t a stranger on the street offering unsolicited advice. Her comment might have been a hint. After all, she’s an astrologer who has read my future chart and was so bold as to reference my future children. That has to be a good sign.
After Rini leaves the room, I open the door to the Juliet balcony overlooking the Long Island Sound. A flock of honking geese takes flight into the cloudless blue sky.
“I’ll grab the luggage,” Ted says. “You should go down there and relax. I see an Adirondack chair with your name on it.”
I place my purse on the desk in our room and grab my library book. I turn left in the hallway past the other suites: Aries, Capricorn, and Cancer. The doors are all closed, but I peek inside. The Aries Suite intrigues with its pops of red for fire, while the earth-toned Capricorn Suite is dark and brooding. The Cancer Suite is painted a calming blue but has a tacky plastic shellfish mounted on the far wall. Rini was right, we got the best room.
I skip down the back staircase and am greeted by the view out the immaculate floor-to-ceiling windows. I step through the sliding glass door and position my Adirondack chair to face the still-as-glass water. I’m about to crack open my book when I spot Ted opening the back door with two fingers. He carries a beer for himself in one hand and a glass of iced tea for me in the other. I meet him halfway across the lawn.
“Thanks, honey.”
I lean in for a hug and press my head to Ted’s chest. He wraps me in his arms, the can of beer cool against my back. He touches my chin so I look up at him. He kisses me and I shiver, despite the warm sun beating down on us. I gesture for him to sit in the chair next to me.
Vacation is the perfect time to raise a certain difficult topic of conversation, and our host has served me the perfect opportunity. Ted reaches over and kisses the top of my head. I rest my ear on his shoulder.
“I think I’d like our kids to have my last name,” I say into his shirt without looking up.
“Really? Over a decade together and you’ve never mentioned that. I love that you still surprise me.”
