A cloud of dust kicked into the humid August air as Avery Prince's weathered Ford truck pulled into the pebble driveway of the Parish Estate. Grimacing in the face of the heat, Avery pushed a swath of unruly hair from his bead coated brow before shutting off the engine and opening the door. Air conditioning or not, he had managed to sweat through his shirt during the short drive out of the city. Traffic heading out of Brooklyn had been horrendous and as much as he loved metropolitan life he was relieved to have a short vacation upstate before the school year began anew. One of the few benefits of teaching for a living was having summers off, and with a new wave of students coming within a matter of weeks, Avery was looking forward to riding out the remainder of his vacation in peaceful, quiet Westchester.
He had just arrived at the home of Evelyn and Richard Parish, his aunt and uncle. A wildly successful 90's web entrepreneur, Richard bought the colonial mansion in New York while Avery was just finishing high school in nearby Orange County. While attending college at Colombia, Richard and Evelyn would frequently invite their bright young nephew to spend weekends and holidays at the estate. Since those years Avery had landed a teaching position at the prestigious Stuyvesant high school, a remarkable achievement at the young age of 29. Unfortunately the job afforded little time for Avery to maintain a social life throughout the annual curriculum, and after the end of a rather involved relationship earlier that year he had become a bit of a recluse. Over the summer he had tried to get back on the horse, but years of a stable relationship had dulled his hunger for the dating scene and his success had been spotty at best.
Sticky with sweat, Avery reached across the console and grabbed the duffel bag of his belongings. Armed with a stack of fresh literature, a quality bottle of scotch and a blank agenda, the next five days looked to be a welcome reprieve from the droll of administrative side work and equally soul- sucking filing job he juggled when the school year wasn't in session. He slammed the car door behind him and happily greeted one of the estate staff, Bradley, who took the bag and accompanied him to the main entrance of the mansion.
"Well, look who it is, Prince Avery himself," Evelyn chided with a wide grin, rushing across the vast and well- lit great hall. She threw her arms around him in embrace, curls of her reddish blonde hair bouncing about. Evelyn was a handsome woman in her 50s, who carried herself elegantly with bright red hair and a rather tall, trim figure; thanks no doubt to countless hours spent daily practicing yoga and other fitness- oriented yuppie pursuits. Incredibly down to earth and personable, she had always been Avery's favorite relative.
"It's been entirely too long since your well- educated little butt has been stomping around this joint! Let me get a good look at you," she gushed, appraising his build. "Well it looks like sitting around on your ass all day hasn't affected you negatively at all! The city girls must
love
you..." He was in solid shape, with regular basketball games with friends helping him maintain a fit body. Avery had always been a handsome fellow, just short of six feet with a slender, athletic figure and dark brown hair.
Avery blushed, grinned sheepishly and looked at his feet. 'The sensitive type,' he never quite lived up to the alpha male lothario his father had been before meeting Avery's mother. He was a nice boy who liked nice girls, and was happy to continue his quaint little romantic existence. "Thanks Aunt Evelyn. It's nice to be back at the palace, I could definitely use a break from the city before school starts back up. Are you headed out?" Evelyn was dressed in summer attire; an elegantly sexy but not too revealing dress of light colors, a clutch under her arm, keys and a file folder in hand.
"Only for a minute, babe -- I've got to run a few errands, see some friends about a gala we'll be hosting in a few days. Clara's preparing a nice dinner for us tonight, you remember her, right?" Clara was the head of staff and private chef of the estate, a kind woman whom Avery fondly remembered.
"I hope you don't mind but I had Bradley set you up in the nautical room, in the far- west wing. I know you usually stay in the sporting room but we've got another guest staying with us, a darling brit named Delilah. Your uncle's hosting her as a favor to an old tech buddy of his from jolly 'ol. She's a sweet 'lil thing, and gorgeous to boot -- though I'm sure you'll find out for yourself soon enough." She flashed a slightly mischievous, confusing smirk to Avery. "And stay out of trouble, boy- she's fresh out of high school, just graduated..."
"Anyway, I'm off -- sorry my welcome was so brief; dinner is at seven, we'll have plenty of time to catch up then." She planted a quick kiss on Avery's cheek and rushed out the door. Avery chuckled to himself; he had always admired his Aunt's ability to maintain traces of that laid back California- girl vibe while whole- heartedly adopting the persona of the outrageously wealthy upstate yuppie queen.
Avery looked to Bradley and shrugged, "Well, I guess it's off to the nautical room..." and they were off, navigating the expansive and lux corridors of the estate. Uncle Richard and Aunt Evelyn had a peculiar taste, the artwork ranging from baroque classics to modern abstraction, none of it clashing or out of place, just...eclectic in composition. After what felt like two city blocks worth of walking, the two finally arrived at the open doors of the nautical room, the early afternoon sun blazing beams across patterns of khaki and navy.
"Here we are, young Avery. We thought you might be hungry after your drive, so Madame Evelyn had Clara prepare an afternoon tea," said Bradley in a thick English accent as he placed the duffel bag gently upon a loveseat, then gestured to an extravagant platter arranged on a nearby table. "As your aunt mentioned dinner will be served at seven o'clock. I believe a few guests shall be arriving half an hour beforehand, and if you wish to join them for an aperitif they will be in the Colombian lounge. I trust you will not shy from asking should you need anything, Master Avery. Farewell." He bowed and exited the room, shutting the door before Avery had a chance to thank him.
Famished, Avery went about smashing several tiny finger sandwiches together to form a substantial mouthful, at which point he shoved the amalgam of bread, cold cuts and spreads into his face. He'd forgotten just how ridiculous the traffic could be coming out of the city on a day like this and hadn't eaten anything in the morning before driving. "Delicious," he muttered to himself while gnashing teeth. He walked across the room, grabbed his duffel bag and dumped its contents onto the bed: a couple of novels, a bottle of single malt, some toiletries stuffed into a Ziploc bag, a phone charger, a worn out pair of flip flops and a messy pile of clothes. He unbuttoned his soggy oxford shirt and dropped his shorts, pulled on a [semi] clean tank top and a pair of swim trunks. A few more canapes down the hatch with a sip of bitter lukewarm tea completed his hurried lunch. Avery grabbed a pair of wayfarer shades and his first novel of choice and left the room to find the pool which was...somewhere. He started walking.
He didn't remember this place being so large. Then again he never remembered visiting "the Nautical Room" either.
Seems auntie and uncle Parish have taken this whole aristocrat thing as far as it can go
...he turned the corner of what seemed like the same series of corridors he'd been navigating for a good twenty minutes. Finally he came to two large French doors that opened upon a wide courtyard garden housing an ornate stone fountain surrounded by Roman- style columns. Now this, this looked familiar.
He trotted lazily across the courtyard, the sunglasses protecting his gaze from the brutal summer sun. Happily greeting some of the estate staff that he remembered from his past visits, Avery set his sights on the swimming pool several yards away. Cross the tennis courts and past the greenhouse he finally stepped foot upon the deck, a broad patio of sculpted concrete with a waterfall constructed of massive lava stones in the distance. Gushing water flowed through the rocks, splashing into the gorgeously designed variable depth swimming pool; the type of setup normal folks enviously gawk at in their monthly issues of architectural digest.
Avery wandered down a row of day beds and recliners, admiring the impeccable taste of his hosts. Wait a second. Pausing, his head cocked to the side slightly as stood there, baking in the sun, staring at a bikini top. It lay amongst a few other belongings: a bottle of sunblock, a discarded pair of sunglasses, an artsy magazine, a purse... He shrugged. She must've run back to her room all wrapped up to grab something. All he needed now was a towel and one of those ice cold beers he knew his uncle would have in the pool house. Flip flops slapping on the stones, Avery sauntered over to a chaise recliner and pulled the tank top off his chest, dropping it on the cushion with his book.
