A New Foundation Rochelle Alers (read aloud .txt) 📖

“That’s because we spoiled her. Every once in a while we let her win when we played board games. However, she was a natural when it came to swimming. Even though I was older and stronger than Viola, I rarely ever beat her swimming laps.”

“It sounds as if you had a lot of fun growing up.”

“I know I speak for my brothers and sister in saying we had the best childhood any kid could ask for. Did she tell you we were homeschooled?”

“Yes,” Sonja confirmed. “I’ve tried imagining what it would be like to be homeschooled and having my mother as my teacher. She probably would’ve been harder on me than those in a traditional school setting. My teachers told her I could’ve been an exceptional student if I’d applied myself. For me it wasn’t about making the honor roll but passing my courses. However, I did excel in languages, art and history.”

“Even if you hadn’t lived abroad, do you think you would’ve become an architectural historian?” Taylor asked.

“I would’ve studied art even if we’d stayed in the States.”

“Do you think you would ever live abroad?” Taylor asked yet another question.

The seconds ticked while Sonja thought about Taylor’s question. There was a time when she’d wanted to leave the country of her birth and live in Italy to complete her graduate studies. Her personal life had been in shambles and she was experiencing an emotional crisis. She’d moved into her parents’ retirement home, living there while her father awaited approval for his honorable discharge as a lieutenant colonel. It was her mother who had urged her to stay in the States and deal with her dilemma, because running away would not resolve her problem. Maria Rios-Martin had become her staunchest ally and protector as she went through a contentious divorce and was finally able to exorcise the man that sought to control her life.

“There was a time when I’d considered it,” she said truthfully. “Why do you ask?”

Taylor gave her a long, penetrating stare. “I only ask because if you decide to become involved in the restoration project, then I’d like a commitment of at least a year, with an option renewal for an additional year.”

“You sound very confident that I will accept the commission.”

“I did say if. I would never assume anything, Sonja. Especially since you do have a job.”

Although Sonja felt properly chastised, she tried to conceal it behind an impassive expression. “I won’t be able to commit to anything until I see what I’ll be responsible for.”

“That’s understandable,” he countered quickly.

“Viola mentioned the house has more than one hundred rooms.”

Taylor nodded. “Bainbridge House was built in 1883 and is listed on the National Register of Historic Places. The main house is designed like a French château with turreted towers and steep-pitched roofs. The outbuildings are tiled-roof cottages.”

“Does it really sit on three hundred acres?”

“Yes. It’s closer to three hundred fifty acres with overgrown gardens, neglected orchards, a vineyard, a nine-hole golf course and a bridle path. I have copies of blueprints for the house and the grounds. If you accept the commission, then I’ll make copies for you.”

Sonja’s smile was dazzling. “You got me when you said French château. When can I see it?”

“Are you free tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

“While you two were making plans to get together I decided to bring you your wine. I waylaid your waiter and decided to surprise you.”

Sonja’s head popped up at the same time as Taylor’s. Viola stood over the table holding a tray with their beverage selections and a shot glass filled with an amber liquid. She was wearing chef’s white, and her curly hair was concealed under a white bandanna.

Taylor was so entranced with his dining partner that he hadn’t detected his sister’s presence. Pushing back his chair, he stood and kissed her forehead. “Are you doing double duty as chef and server?” he teased.

Viola placed the wineglasses on the table and then picked up the shot glass. “No. I told Joseph to let me know when you were here and that gave me the excuse to leave the kitchen for a few minutes.”

It wasn’t often Taylor got to see Viola in what she called her zone: the restaurant. As a young girl she’d been drawn to cooking and the kitchen had become her favorite room in the farmhouse. “You’ve got a full house tonight.”

“We’re always busy on weekends. I probably won’t get out of here until well after midnight. We seat our last customers at ten. I just wanted to say hello.” She raised her glass, waiting for Taylor and Sonja to follow suit. Viola touched each wineglass with her own. “Here’s to friends and family.”

“Friends and family,” Sonja and Taylor said in unison.

Viola tossed back her drink while her brother and her friend sipped their wine. She set the glass on the tray. “Sonja, we’ll talk later.”

Taylor waited until Viola had left before returning his attention to Sonja. “How long have you and Viola been friends?”

“We met a couple of summers ago at a Washington Square street fair. I’d overheard her haggling with a vendor selling pen-and-ink sketches. He cursed at me when I accused him of inflating his prices and that I knew an artist selling similar sketches that weren’t overpriced. I told Sonja about a friend who owned a little art store near the South Street Seaport, and said if she was serious about pen-and-ink drawings then I would put in a good word for her. She asked me if I would go with her because she needed artwork to decorate her apartment’s entryway. We went to the store and I helped her select what she liked. Afterward, we went to eat and wound up talking for hours. It was the beginning of what has become a wonderful friendship.”

Taylor recalled the collage of framed pen-and-ink drawings lining the walls in his sister’s apartment and had complimented her on her choice of artwork. “I’m glad you could help her out. By the way, there’s