Sabrinas Education Ch 02

Chapter Two: The Mansion

"Hello Ms. Pendergrast," Mr. Smith smiled politely at the prim child care worker after he walked out to greet us.

"Hello Sabrina," Mr. Smith stretched out a beautifully manicured hand and I shook it shyly.

"I hope you like our little home here," Mr. Smith added warmly.

Little home? I would hardly call it little and almost laughed at the man in front of me. We were standing in the large porch of his grey huge mansion. The lawn was perfectly manicured, huge and stretching out endlessly on both sides of us. The fragrant smell of rose bushes was wafting in the air around us. "I want to give you a tour of the mansion today and get you some food into you. I'm sure you are hungry and tired," Mr. Smith said eyeing me up and down with a look of sympathy and concern.

I was a little uncomfortable by the attention. I wasn't that hungry actually as the group home gave us a huge hot lunch every day, usually greasy and not that healthy but large. I was stuffed and not used to eating much. I had inherited my mother's hyperactive metabolism. I must have looked like a rumpled mess to him. I struggled to straighten out my cotton hooded sweatshirt awkwardly...noticing for the first time how it hung off my slender frame. I just wanted to be settled and my curiosity and fear were killing me. I had hardly slept the night before I was so anxious.

I hoped that I made the right decision in leaving the group home. Although I had just turned 18 and was allowed to leave the home...I really had no place to go and no job prospects. The workers there were willing to let me stay on and help me get some continued education or job training, but when a millionaire like Mr. Smith offers to take an emancipated orphan into his home as his ward you really don't turn down a chance like that. At least that is what all the group home workers convinced me was the best thing to do. I could always return if I didn't like the situation. They reassured me of that over and over again.

I looked at Mr. Smith's beautiful suit and suddenly felt very shabby and cheap in my sweatshirt and black jeans. I had so little interaction with the "real world" outside the group home. I was so relieved that the group home was situated far from my my rich, comfortable friends from my past. I cringed inwardly at the thought of them seeing me now looking so poor and tired—a definite startling contrast to my happy earlier days before my parents died.

Mr. Smith took my large olive army knapsack that I had stuffed all my clothes in and slung it over his shoulder. Mr. Capota, the home administrator, promised that he would ship all my books, my laptop and all my related stuff in boxes later in the week. I felt empty without them. Mr. Capota said that if they didn't arrive in time, I could come and have them shipped personally. I trusted him but still missed my things terribly.

Mr. Smith took my hand gently but firmly and walked me to the door. "It's a little confusing at first but you will get the layout of the place," Mr. Smith explained.

I looked at the mansion and gulped. It had one huge main center building with three extensions that were equally large on its other three sides. It looked like it was at least three stories high. I wondered that one person really needed all that space.

"I run most of my businesses out of here, as well as out of my two other homes in New York and L.A." It felt as though Mr. Smith was reading my mind as I gaped at the massive buildings. "You will see all sorts of staff running in and out of here," he sighed.

I couldn't quite make out whether he liked that arrangement or not. I looked up at him coyly sneaking a peek at my new guardian. First off, he seemed very young, at least to be considered old enough to be my guardian but I guessed that when you have millions no one really questions your decision to take in a teenage emancipated orphan that nobody wants. They just think it is very generous.

Basically, I was guessing I was a charity case to soothe his conscience or some good cheap help as a young intern for one of his businesses. I had become a cynic after my parents' death.. Three years in a group home for delinquent girls as well as finding out that your parents' best friend embezzled all of their money leaving you destitute can certainly shrink your moral fiber and trust in society.

I walked into the entrance way and a gasp escaped my lips. It was the most beautiful hallway I had ever seen. It was bathed in bright white light and was painted in pure white tones with framed stunning black and white photographs everywhere. There was a huge ornate, white antique crystal chandelier hanging at the end. It was decorated with white porcelain angels and lilies and it looked surreal. The walls had all intricate woodwork and carvings. The floor was a beautiful pale planked wood as well. It must take a fortune just to keep this place clean. There were oriental rugs everywhere. It was a wonderfully eclectic mix of modern and antique touches. I loved it immediately. It made up for the drab grey looking exterior of the mansion.

"My girlfriend Karen did this," Mr. Smith said with a wave of his hand. "She is an interior decorator and quite good at it. I myself am woefully inadequate when it comes to decorating. I don't have the patience," he smiled. "She's quite good at what she does." He was watching my reactions intensely.

I blushed, nodded and looked at him my mouth wide open as I tried to absorb the different beautiful touches that graced his home. One of a kind chairs, loungers, couches, some brightly colored, some black and white, all mixing together cohesively. And the artwork made me swoon. I had recognized some of it from my art books. I couldn't believe he was rich enough to actually own it.

"We have a very complicated security system for the art of course," he explained tracking my gaze. I nodded pretending I actually understood security systems. But I was still staring at the walls open mouthed admiring the works.

He gently asked, "Do you recognize some of them Sabrina?" I looked up at him and smiled. He wasn't that much taller than me about five feet eleven.

I took a closer look at his face and body now that he addressed me. He was extremely handsome with dark blonde hair and deep piercing blue eyes. He had a rugged tan that I could spot on his face and neck that gave way to wide shoulders and a narrow build. His suit was navy and his button down silk business shirt was light blue and they both complimented his penetrating eyes. He had long lashes like Jenna, which made him look even more youthful. There was something gentle in his eyes that was a contrast to his assertive attitude. I could imagine his staff doing anything for him when he stared at them that way.

When he spoke to me his voice was sweetly pleasant and nurturing. I guessed somewhere deep inside he really wanted a daughter or something to love. He was all alone in that huge place. I wondered if he was an only child like me and wanted siblings or a huge family.

"I figured that you would know some of it. I was very impressed by your artistic talent and knowledge at the group home," he added softly.

"Let's take your bag to your room," he said leading me gently with his hand. We passed a huge kitchen area and I followed him blindly. An elderly woman in a uniform came forward.

"Hello, Mrs. Delpino this is Sabrina," Mr. Smith said formally. Ms. Delpino had a friendly round face. She wiped her hands on a clean beautifully embroidered kitchen towel and shook my hand.

"Oh, so this is the girl!" Ms. Delpino exclaimed. "My she is so pretty!"

I looked down, felt the heat come over my face, and mumbled something incoherently like thank you, I could barely hear my voice. I was so overwhelmed by the vastness of the place that I just blinked dumbly and looked around trying to get my bearings. I doubted that I looked very pretty in my worn-out clothes when compared with the beauty of my surroundings. I felt that familiar feeling of shame in my condition that I had encountered whenever I ventured outside the group home. This came from years of the villagers avoiding "those bad group home kids" like we were the plague.

"Oh Ms. Sabrina, you will get used to the place soon enough," Ms. Delpino smiled. "I have dinner in the oven, Mr. Smith," she said looking at my guardian. It smelled divine and I wasn't even hungry. I felt my stomach grumble.

"That will be fine. We will be dining at 7pm tonight, Ms. Delpino. Karen won't be joining us. She was called to L.A. on business. Make it two places in the main dining hall. I want to get Sabrina settled into her room first."

"Of course Mr. Smith. Nice to meet you Ms. Sabrina," she added.

As we walked along the corridors, I noticed various staff running around. Attractive young men and women in beautifully tailored suits on cell phones as well as pretty cleaning women with dusters in blue uniforms and white colors like Ms. Delpino's. I wondered if anyone ugly worked at the mansion.

"Don't worry Sabrina, at 7pm most of the staff goes home and it is a lot less hectic around here," Mr. Smith squeezed my hand comfortingly. "Remember that the East Wing is always pretty private. That is where your room is. My bedroom and studios are in the south wing and that wing is also extremely private. Karen usually stays in the north wing where she carries on a lot of her business when she is here."

I nodded dumbly trying to follow everything he said. Where is the west wing? Where is my bedroom again? Maybe he should have a map of this place. Suddenly the size of the mansion came alive when I saw the vast quantity of staff that occupied it.

"The main body and west wing is where most of the staff is situated. It seems to work out very well that way; no complaints yet." Mr. Smith's professional commanding tone of voice would make anyone scared to argue with any of his decisions. He seems to have surrounded himself with yes people. But then again his gentle demeanor at times made me think that he might be a good boss.

I couldn't really figure it out. I wasn't very good at reading people. I had great book skills, but my people skills were atrocious.

"Here it is," he smiled as he opened the beautifully carved white wood door.

I stepped into the room and gasped. It was huge. Well, it was actually a suite of rooms. The front room was modern in design and had a beautiful oak desk and drafting table. There was a state of the art IMAC and PC in the corner with every possible gadget I could imagine or want. That and the beautiful stereo equipment on the wall easily added up to thousands of dollars.

"Karen and I wanted you to settle in a furnished room but you can change anything you want," he said. I felt his hand touching my shoulder. I looked up and saw his smile. I was speechless.

"It..It's all....all mine?" I squeaked and stammered. I couldn't believe it. I felt like I had just won the lottery.

"Yes, of course," he added, "Unless you need something else?" I looked up thinking he was being joking or something but I could see that he was completely serious. He anticipated anything I could possibly need. He had state of the art everything in my room. It looked like an IMac store and high end electronic store wrapped up into one. I saw three flat screened television sets wired with blue ray machines. Shelves of CD and DVD cases were hung up along the walls. I noted a number of films and musical bands that I loved.

The drafting table was set up with every imaginable type of art product for me to use. Near it was a shelf with even more art pads, paints, pencils, and sketch books.

"We are setting up a dark room for your photography," he added quietly watching me trace my fingers over the art materials. "I started buying you some camera equipment but figured you would know best what you want or you might want to research it with some help from some art instructors but we can talk about that later," he added.

I looked at him stunned. A dark room for myself? I couldn't believe it. I had to share a flimsy dark room at the community center with hundreds of different members fighting for it at time. I could barely schedule in an hour per week. I walked past the first room and into another room that lead into my bedroom.

The bed was king sized with a gorgeous Victorian era canopy. There was a huge bay window facing my bed with bright light streaming through beautiful lace white curtains with embroidered outlines of trees and leaves.

"I hope you like Victorian-era designs, Karen can become quite fixated when she puts her mind to it. She takes and idea and runs with it. I like a more modern feel but she knows girls better I think," he mused.

I looked up at him. He looked so serious and eager to please me.

"I love it," I said. And I did. I really did. It looked like I had walked into one of the Jane Austin novels I had grown to love. There were antique end tables and beautiful paintings and a large tapestry hanging on the wall that was breathtaking. I stood in front of the tapestry.

"It looks like it belongs in a museum," I whispered.

"It should. It cost enough," Mr. Smith laughed a bit. He had a great laugh. He looked like a regular guy when he laughed and I suddenly relaxed. I looked at the wall and there was a huge white wooden shelf stocked with books. I glanced at the titles of the books, a lot of them my favorites and smiled. I saw titles of art and photography books I couldn't wait to dig into.

I felt him squeeze my shoulder softly. "I'm glad you like it Sabrina," and the way he said my name was so gentle. Only a few people in my whole entire life have said my name in that tone.

"I don't know if you have a cell phone but I took the liberty of getting you one of these," Mr. Smith said. He brought my palm in his hand and placed a metallic object in it closing my fingers around it. I opened my hand and looked down. Oh God, the latest I Phone that I drooled over and could never afford even in my wildest dreams. I looked at it and all its glorious applications.

"It's the one with the extra memory that can handle the more artistic applications or so my buyer told me," he added. I held the pretty pink plastic case. "Your cell number is written on the top. Don't worry about the bill. Just let me know if you are going to put any 3 hour international calls in," he laughed and again I saw his youth peeking through the professional attitude. "It also hooks up to this," and he pointed to the newest I pad. I was in technology heaven.

I wanted to see him laugh again. It was then I realized the hold that he had on me in such a short time. I wanted to make my guardian happy and hear that laugh. If he brought this out in his employees no wonder he was so rich I thought.

"Now." Mr. Smith took off his jacket and I noticed his muscular build. I blushed a little looking down. He placed my olive canvas army knapsack down near my bed carefully like it was a Gucci luggage or something and said, "It's almost 7pm. Let's get some food into you. I'll wait here. The bathroom is right there if you want to wash your hands," and he opened this door that was hand painted with these beautiful multicolored flowers and birds.

My mouth opened wide again dumbfounded. There were white marble floors and a Jacuzzi and a shower with a sunken bathtub. It was painted throughout with the same pretty flowers and birds that were on the door.

There was a double sink with a Hollywood type makeup mirror surrounding it and a brightness switch that I could adjust. It was perhaps the first time in three years that I could look closely and privately at my face and body without interruptions.

I sighed and looked at my face. It was pretty but there were big dark circles under my eyes. I was more pale than usual, especially around my lips. My blonde long thick hair was slicked back like I just rolled out of bed or a gym. The group home shampoo and conditioner left a lot to be desired and my hair looked stringy. There were some tendrils that had escaped and were streaming down the sides of my oval face. My eyes looked big and clear and blue like my mother's. My pouty lips looked sad next to the pale of my face. I started to get teary thinking of my mother. I missed her really badly in the big mansion without her love and support.

I backed up and inspected my body. My full breasts were concealed under my black hooded sweatshirt. I decide to leave it on because my bust just seemed too big under the tight t shirt I was wearing. I wanted to pull the hood up over my stringy hair but resisted the temptation knowing I would look ridiculous.

My long legs and slim figure still looked great. I seemed a bit more frail and vulnerable than my usual healthy, sporty self. I lifted up my t shirt and saw that my stomach had almost become concave with my ribs protruding. I tried to wash my face with cold water to get my circulation going. Karen (I assumed) had stocked up the bathroom with every imaginable type of cosmetic product, shampoo, body soap, lotion, and conditioner. I couldn't imagine a guy knowing all the types of girlie products that were in front of me but who knows.

There was a huge cabinet filled with luxuriously thick embroidered towels and first aid supplies as well as even more soaps, deodorants and creams. She even put in a row of perfumes, colognes and body powders for me to sample.

I noticed that she had not forgotten feminine hygiene products like shavers and shaving cream, tampons and deodorants, and I blushed uncomfortably.

There was an electric toothbrush with a pile of replaceable heads, and a sample of different toothpastes. There was even an enormous basket in the corner filled with cosmetics suited towards my fair complexion. I looked at the brand names and even a fashion dummy like me knew they were pricey.

Karen had not forgotten a thing. The bathroom was so huge and so well organized with baskets and medicine cabinets that it barely looked stocked.

There was a rug on the floor that matched the paintings on the walls. I felt like I was in a luxury hotel. A thick white terry robe with the same embroidery found on the towels was hanging on a hook in the corner with a pair of matching cotton pajamas and embroidered slippers. I tried to get my focus straight rubbing my eyes feeling dazed and took a deep breath.

I exited the bathroom with a forced smile and met Mr. Smith's steady gaze. He was looking intently at me.

"Everything o.k.?" he asked with a look of concern. He was furiously texting into his phone—something important I gathered.

"It's really, really, nice," I said. God did I sound stupid. But that is all I could blurt out while I blinked dully at him.

"Well, we didn't know if you had many clothes so, Karen took the liberty. Mr. Capota told us your measurements. I hope you don't mind," and he opened two huge closets filled with clothes. There were jackets, coats, dresses, pants, skirts, tops, shoes, and boots. All were organized from casual daytime to elegant nighttime. I just looked at them overwhelmed. Not knowing if I liked them or not. Not really being able to comprehend the extent of it all.

"We can go out shopping together and get you some that you can choose later if you wish. You look tired. Let's get you fed and then to bed," he led the way back to the dining hall.

The dining hall was so extravagantly elegant that I felt like a homeless bum that walked in on the middle of the meal. I really wished that we could eat in the kitchen or that I had changed into one of Karen's outfits. The maids were all fussing over me asking if I wanted this or that and I just nodded at the food smiling.

Mr. Smith breathed in deep. "It smells great. Ms. Delpino is a find. She never disappoints."