“Not that the house was another Tara. David had told her it was a Virginia farmhouse, but when had a farmhouse looked like a cross between Buckingham Palace and the Taj Mahal? “I’ll bet nobody with manure on his boots ever got further than that porch,” Stephanie murmured as David took their luggage from the back of his Porsche. David’s brow lifted. “Manure, Scarlett?” “Manure, David. I’m sure you’ll be amazed to hear we have our fair share of the stuff back home in Georgia.” He grinned. “Not qui...te as much as there is in our esteemed capitol, but why quibble? You’re right. The only thing rural about this place is Mimi’s little speech to newcomers about the purity of the bucolic ethos she demanded of her architect and interior designer.” Stephanie laughed. “She doesn’t really say that!” “Heck, for all I know, she might be right—assuming the ethos of a Virginia farm in the seventeen hundreds included gold faucets in all the johns, a dining room that seats fifty, and hot and cold running servants.”MoreLessRead More Read Less
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