I was not in the best of moods as you may have gathered, so despite the fact that I was impressed so far, I said, "I can see why Bellarosa would buy this place. It looks like Villa di Greaseball."
"Don't use that word."
"He uses it."
"I don't care," she said. "Anyway, Spanish architecture is fine if it's done right. Vanderbilts lived here, John."
"Vanderbilts lived everywhere, Susan." I pulled into the circular forecourt in the middle of which was a new three-tiered marble fountain from which water spouted and cascaded, lit by multicoloured lights. "Early Italian catering hall."
"Cut it out, John."
I parked the car near the fountain, and we got out and walked across the cobblestones toward the front door. I stopped and turned back toward the drive we had just come up. The view out to the road with the line of poplars running down toward the gate was also very imperial. Despite my reservations about the abundance of coloured lights, it was nice to see this great estate coming alive again. "Not bad," I proclaimed. Beyond the gates and across Grace Lane, I could see the DePauws' stately colonial on the hill. I waved. "To whom are you waving?" asked Susan.
"To Mr Mancuso," I replied.
"Who? Oh…" She stayed silent for some time, then asked, "Are you ready?" "I suppose." I turned back toward the house. I could see that the stucco was being repaired and there was scaffolding on the south wing. Several skids of red roofing tile sat in the forecourt, and on the grass were cement pans and wheelbarrows. I asked Susan, "Do you know how Italians learn to walk?" "No, John. Tell me."
"They push wheelbarrows." It didn't sound as funny as when Bellarosa said it.
Susan asked, "How can they push wheelbarrows if they can't walk?" "No, you're not getting it. You see… never mind. Listen, I want you to get a headache at nine-forty-five."
"You're giving me a headache now." She added, "And why do I always have to get a headache? People are beginning to think I have a terminal disease. Why don't you say your haemorrhoids are acting up at nine-forty-five?" "Are we having a tiff?"
"No, you're going to behave."
"Yes, madame."
We walked up the white limestone steps to a massive arched oak door with wrought-iron strap hinges.
Susan indicated one of the stone columns that held up the portico. "Did you know that these are genuine Carthaginian columns?"
"I've heard."
"Incredible," she said.
"Plunder," I replied. "You millionaires plundered the Old World to adorn your houses."
"That is what money is for," Lady Stanhope informed me. "You may recall that every marble fireplace in Stanhope Hall is from a different Italian palace." "Yes, I remember that palace in Venice with the missing mantelpiece." I pulled the bell chain. "Well, time for dessert."
Susan wasn't attending. She was intrigued with the Carthaginian columns and ran her hand over one of them. She said reflectively, "So, two thousand years after Frank Bellarosa's ancestors plundered Carthage, Frank Bellarosa and the plunder reunite a half world away."
"That's very philosophical, Susan. But let's stick to the subject of vegetables and cement tonight."
Susan whispered to me, "If you play your cards right tonight, Counsellor, you may be a consigliere before the evening's done."
"I am not amused," I informed her.
"Well, then, if he pinches my ass, I want you to slug him." "If he pinches my ass, I'll slug him. Your ass is your business, darling." I pinched her behind, and she jumped and giggled as the heavy oak door swung open to reveal don Bellarosa himself. He was smiling. "Benvenuto a nostra casa." "Grazie," Susan replied, smiling back.
"Come in, come in," said Mr Bellarosa in plain English. I shook hands with my host on my way in, and Susan got a kiss on both cheeks, Italian style. This was going to be a long night.
We entered a cavernous colonnaded vestibule, a sort of palm court or atrium as they say now. The floor of the court was red quarry tile, and all around the court were pink marble columns that held up stucco arches. Without gawking, I could see a second tier of columns and arches above the first, from which protruded wrought-iron balconies. All the lighting was indirect and dramatic, and covering the entire court was a dome of glass and iron filigree. More interesting, I thought, was that on both levels of the colonnade, hung amid the flowering plants and the potted palms, were dozens of cages in which were brightly plumed tropical birds, squawking and chirping away. The whole thing seemed to me a cross between a public aviary in Rio de Janeiro and an upscale florist shop in a Florida mall.
Mr Bellarosa, always the subtle and self-effacing gentleman, said, "Hell of a front hall, right?"
"It's beautiful," Susan said breathlessly.
Bellarosa looked at me expectantly.
I inquired, "How do you get the bird shit out of the cages up there?" Susan threw me a mean look, but Frank explained. It had to do with a thirty-foot ladder on wheels that he'd had specially built. Very interesting. Bellarosa looked me over. "You're all dressed up."
I realized he had never seen me in my Brooks Brothers' armour, and lest he think I had dressed for him, I said, "I came directly from work." "Ah."
Bellarosa, I should mention, was dressed casually in grey slacks and a white polo shirt, which accented a new tan. I snuck a look at his shoes and saw he was wearing sandals with socks. As if this wasn't bad enough, the socks were yellow. I wanted to draw Susan's attention to Bellarosa's feet but didn't have the opportunity. Around here, incidentally, when we have people to our home, the men usually wear tie and jacket to make sure they're not comfortable. The women wear whatever women wear. In this case, I found that I was slightly annoyed about the clingy red dress. But, she looked good in red, and I was both proud and jealous. Bellarosa had turned his attention to Susan and asked, "How's the barn coming?" "The… it's coming apart quite well," Susan replied. "But can they put it back together?"
Bellarosa laughed politely. Haw, haw. He said, "Dominic knows his stuff. But he might sneak in a few Roman arches on you."
They shared a laugh. Haw, haw. Ha, ha.
"Come on," said Mr Bellarosa, motioning for us to follow. "Why are we standing here?"
Because you made us stand here, Frank.
We followed our host to the left through one of the archways of the palm court and entered a long, empty room that smelled of fresh paint. Bellarosa stopped and asked me, "What is this room?"
"Is this a test?"
"No, I mean, I can't figure it out. We got a living room, we got a dining room, we got rooms, rooms, rooms. What's this?"
I looked around. "Not a bathroom."
Susan interjected. "It's… actually this is the dining room."
Bellarosa looked at her. "You sure?"
"Yes. I was in this house when the last family lived here." "That stupid decorator… then what's the room over there?" He pointed through an archway.
"That is the morning room," Susan informed him.
"Morning room?"
I could have had fun with that one, but I left it alone.
"It doesn't matter," Susan assured him. "These old houses are used in different ways now. Whatever works best for you."
"Except," I said helpfully, "you can't cook in the bathroom, or go to the bathroom in – " "John," Susan interrupted, "we get the idea, darling."
We followed Mr Bellarosa through the newly discovered dining room, then through the archway that led to the morning room. It was rather a large room, right off the butler's pantry, which in turn led to the kitchen. Bellarosa seemed not in the least embarrassed to be entertaining us in the morning room – sometimes called the breakfast room – since, until very recently, he thought it was the dining room. But to be fair, I could see how a peasant might get confused. He pulled out two chairs at one end of a long dining table. "Sit," he commanded. We sat. Mr Bellarosa went to a sideboard from which he took a tray of cordials and crystal glasses that he set on the table in front of us. "Here. Help yourselves. Don't be shy. I'll be back in five minutes." He went through a swinging door into the butler's pantry, and I watched his retreating back as he headed for the kitchen. The door swung closed. Five, four, three, two, one -