Free Watching Amanda by Janelle Taylor Page A

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    She scooped up Tommy and headed upstairs to the main level. As Amanda reached the top step, she sucked in her breath.
    Wow. She stood there, taking in the exquisitely decorated living room. A Persian rug of soothing and subtle blues and golds lay across the expanse of hardwood floor. A rich brown leather sofa dominated one side of the sitting area; across from it in front of the fireplace were two lighter blue antique chairs made cozy with throw pillows. Incongruously, next to the sofa was a playpen with two stuffed animals.
    A baby grand piano sat in the alcove of the front bay window. Paintings graced the walls and sculptures defined the corners. There was only one plant, a large cactus by the window flanking one side of the bay that Amanda was never to open.
    It looked like an ordinary window, she thought, eyeing the luxurious velvet drapes.
    And above the fireplace was the portrait of William, Amanda and her sisters.
    Amanda held Tommy close, breathing in the clean, fresh scent of his hair. “Look, sweetie,” she said. “There’s your mommy when she was a teenager. Just sixteen years old. And there’s your aunt Olivia and your aunt Ivy. And there’s your grandfather.”
    Tears unexpectedly stung the back of her eyes. But you’ll never get the chance to know him.
    I’ll never get the chance to know him.
    The painting was obviously commissioned by William from a photograph. Amanda remembered that day, a rare day in which William actually spent time with his daughters. The girls had been about to sit down to lunch when William had come outside, commented on the nice weather, and asked Clara to snap a photo of the four of them. Olivia, who’d been a budding photographer, positioned them in front of a lilac tree, then nodded at Clara to take the picture.
    No one was touching. No one had an arm around one of the others. No one was quite smiling. But the four of them were together.
    With one last look at the painting, Amanda headed down the pale yellow hall toward the back of the house and found herself in a sunny kitchen, complete with breakfast nook. A high chair was in position at the table, and on a nearby hook were several bibs.
    Beside the kitchen was a small formal dining room, with deep red walls and beautiful built-ins, in which china and glasses were stored. Above the polished dark wood table was an ornate chandelier. Amanda couldn’t imagine what cause she’d ever have to enjoy a meal in this room, but it was beautiful.
    Back down the hall, Amanda found a small library, lined with bookshelves from the floor to the twelve-foot-high ceiling and filled with books on every topic imaginable. There were even four rows of books for babies and children and another playpen near a comfortable-looking easy chair.
    With Tommy still in her arms, Amanda headed up another short round of stairs to the upper level. There were four doors off the landing. Amanda assumed the one painted white was the master bedroom she was not to enter. An ornate silver key hung from a ribbon on the doorknob.
    There was also a red door, a baby blue door, and a pale yellow door. The yellow door opened to a large, cheerful bathroom with large soft towels and decorative soaps lining the counter. The red door led to Amanda’s bedroom. Painted a paler red than the door, the room was dominated by a dark-wood four-poster bed with a beautiful quilt and several pillows. There was an antique dresser with a huge round mirror, complete with a silver brush and comb set, and next to the dresser was a walk-in closet.
    A gorgeous round throw rug filled the middle of the floor. Amanda set Tommy down on the center of the rug; he sat happily, chewing on a teether she’d pulled out of her bag.
    For a moment Amanda just stood and watched her son. He’d woken up this morning without a sneeze or a cough or a fever, and his cheeks were a healthy shade of peach instead of flushed.
    So far, so good, Amanda thought,