Someone suggested that I should change categories if I were changing subject matter, but I think doing that with Chapter 17 might have caused some readers to miss it. People got used to seeing the series in Mature, so I'm going back to that setting now.
*****
A few days later, five of us piled into Richard's SUV and headed off for the Blue Ridge Mountains.
Ricky volunteered to drive, but I was the adult and felt I should be in charge. Ricky sat across from me for the first segment so that the girls could gossip in the back seat.
After a bathroom break, Randi said she would ride up front with me so that Ricky could sit beside Paige.
The rest of the trip seemed to take no time at all.
With GPS on my phone, we found the school with no problem and worked our way around to the basketball stadium.
The assistant coach, Amanda, must have been watching from a window as she stepped outside to welcome us to UNC-Asheville.
"Hello again, Miss Fuller," I said, extending a hand.
"Hi, Mr. Donaldson," she said with a broad smile. "And this is Paige."
The assistant shook hands with Paige, who introduced Ricky and Carrie.
"You might remember Carrie from our basketball team. She was the starting center," Paige said.
"Of course," said Amanda.
"You don't have to say that to be nice," Carrie said shyly. "You couldn't remember me. I picked up a couple of fouls and sat on the bench half the game."
"Yes, but you had some good plays in the third quarter and seemed to wear down Miss Doyle," said Amanda. "Speaking of, that might be her now."
We all turned to see another car pulling into the parking lot.
Miss Doyle was tall, but graceful as she stepped out of the passenger seat of the car. An even taller person exited the driver's side. While they had some similarities, the young woman had a darker complexion and hair than the man who could only be her father.
"Anna! Oh my god, I can't believe it," exclaimed Paige. "What are you doing here?"
"Following you, I guess," said Anna, as the two girls shared a quick hug.
"I was on the phone with Miss Fuller a few days ago, and she said she had just gotten off the phone with you about making a visit. I thought I'd check out the school and maybe get to know a potential teammate, too."
Amanda gave the girls a quick sketch of what they would see inside, then a young woman in sweats came outside to join us.
"Hey, everybody, this is Kara. She plays point guard on the team," said Amanda. "She and I will show you around the facilities here, then she'll show you the rest of the campus."
Hearing all the plans the group had for the day, it was obvious I would have plenty of free time to burn, which was exactly what I was hoping would happen.
I explained to Amanda that Randi and I would be checking out the city and would come back later.
"Give me a call or text and let me know when you are wrapping things up," I reminded Paige.
And soon I was driving Randi toward her surprise.
"So, what's first on the agenda?" Randi asked pleasantly.
"You'll see," I replied, following the new directions on GPS.
Soon we turned off the main road and a sign gave away the secret.
"Are you serious?" Randi said, turning away from the window to beam at me. "This is where we are going?"
"Yep."
We slowly made our way up the private drive toward the beautiful Biltmore Estate.
"Oh god, I heard about this, but we lived a long way off then and I never thought I'd get to see it."
The massive mansion was close to the city, but felt like it was in another kingdom, seated on 8,000 acres of land.
George Vanderbilt was only 27 years old when ground first broke on the estate in 1889. The grandson of industrialist Cornelius Vanderbilt, George fell in love with the area when he visited with his mother the year before.
The grounds were so massive that a temporary railroad had to be established to bring raw materials out to the build site. Six years later, the Vanderbilts opened the home.
We drew closer to the front gates, but couldn't yet see the 250-room French Renaissance chateau.
The house itself covers four acres and has 35 bedrooms, 43 bathrooms and 65 fireplaces to provide heat throughout the structure.
I parked the SUV and took Randi's hand as we started toward the ticket counters. Long lines of people waited to purchase admission, but I swung around them all and headed for another window instead.
"Hi, I'm Henry Donaldson. I called on Tuesday." I slid my driver's license forward so the young woman could see.
As the woman was looking, I snuck a peek at Randi, who was looking at me as if it was taking all her strength to keep her mouth from hanging agape.
"Ah, here we are," the woman said, pulling out a manila envelop. She opened it and checked inside, then her demeanor shifted. She stood a little straighter and took on a more professional tone.
"Mr. Cecil's assistant has taken care of all arrangements. Here are your tickets for admission, a voucher for the café and a note from Mr. Cecil himself."
I accepted the note, which said, "Henry, so glad you have finally accepted my invitation. I hope you have a wonderful time. Sorry I will be away this weekend or I'd welcome you in person. Bill."
The young woman, whose nametag said Shannon, slid over the tickets, a voucher good for $50 at the Stable Café and two sets of headphones.
"What are the headphones for?" I asked.
"You can take a guided tour from one of our staff members, or you can walk at your own pace through the house."
Shannon picked up a small box attached to the headphones.