Any soul who has ever been to Palmer Estate and set foot inside Palmer House has left with the mind blown.
The mansion has over two hundred rooms within walls that enclose over 50,000 square feet. Bedrooms and living rooms aside, it has playrooms, study rooms, gymnasiums, music rooms, hearth rooms, parlor rooms, sunrooms, and so on.
The household has only one child, and yet, five full-fledged playrooms form part of the mansion.
The largest playroom has polished stone walls with magical forest motifs. There are mushroom stools and murals of friendly woodland creatures. An overhead star map can be lit up at night, along with the forest murals. The room houses Large Duplo Lego sets, indoor slides, toy trains, and every stuffed animal one can think of. Any child from the city would call it a dreamland.
However, little Ashley prefers to play in the outermost guest hall. It is an oblong, windowless chamber next to the parlor room. Guests are made to wait in the parlor room before being ushered in to meet the patron.
Ashley nests in the guest hall for most of the day, with her barbies, kitchen sets, and coloring books. She favors the hall because her dad, Arthur Palmer, entertains guests in the particular chamber while he is home. The little girl enjoys seeing unfamiliar faces, even though she interacts with them very little.
Arthur is a doting father and lets her stay. In fact, having his precious daughter within his sights all the time keeps him in high spirits.
Ashley is an angel. She makes no noise and plays all by herself with no need for supervision. She is a stickling kid who cleans up after playtime and does not let the maid touch her things.
It was late in the evening, and little Ashley sat on the familiar nut-brown Persian rug, playing with her barbie dolls.
Wall-high portraits of her family and predecessors manned the lofty walls. The most dated painting belonged to the year 1872; Reginald Palmer, the late founder of the Palmer family, stared stoically at every visitor of the guest hall.
A 1921 Howard Miller grandfather clock ticked peacefully from the other end of the room and chimed the passing of the hour.
There were three Victorian fireplaces in the guest hall, all lined with Turkish limestone. Animal trophies hung over the paved mantelpieces- a lion, a zebra, a lion, a buck, a reindeer, and several other animal heads, which Ashley could not name yet. Porcelain figurines and minor game trophies decorated the mantelpieces.
One of the hearths had a modest fire going. Hickory and maple stacks smoldered and crackled boldly into the otherwise silent hall.
Evelyn Palmer sat on a couch knitting a scarf. She looked up from time to time to make sure her daughter was okay. The household was wealthy beyond reason, and could hire a dozen governesses and nannies for the little girl's upbringing. However, Evelyn raised Ashley all by herself.
Dottie, the pet tigress, slept near the lady's feet. She was two and a half years old and still a dependent cub.
Evelyn eyed her eight-year-old daughter. Little Ashley had laid out a tea set and was hosting a pretend tea party with her barbies. The dolls included a ballerina dreams edition, a millennium princess edition, among others.
"Maeby! Be careful, or you will burn your tongue off!" she said to the ballerina barbie. Plastic miniature cups lay in front of all the dolls.
"Tabitha! Tell me more about your new neighbors. I hear they are very weird?"
"Jane, I am upset with you. You did not invite me to your nephew's bar mitzvah!"
Evelyn shook her head and smiled to herself. Ashley had a hyperactive imagination, and keeping her occupied was not a laborious task.
"Joanne! I love your ring. Jake is a darling and will keep you really happy."
Jake?
Little Ashley paused her tea party and wondered where she had heard the name before. Was he a classmate from school? She looked at the hearth, seeking answers. The dancing flames were agitated, as if a draft flustered them.
Jake. Jake Grayson. She remembered!
Little Ashley's lips quivered as memories flooded in.
She was confused for a minute, trying to piece things together.
'What the merry is going on?'
Ashley looked around at the familiar guest hall she spent years of her childhood in. She eyed Dottie, and her eyes started watering. When finally her attention went to Evelyn, the girl spoke.
"Mom?" Her voice was sweet and tiny.
Evelyn looked up from her knitting. "Yes, sweetie, what is it?”
Ashley almost tripped over the tea set as she scrambled to her feet and ran to her mother.
Evelyn set the needles aside before the girl swooped on her, burying her face in her bosom.
"Oh, what happened?" Evelyn hugged her daughter back in surprise.
"I love you, mom!" Ashley's muffled voice declared.
"I love you too, sweetie." Evelyn kissed her daughter's little head and retrieved the sobbing face. "Tell me what it is, dear," she said, looking into Ashley's cognac brown eyes. Evelyn's own were the same color as were her grandmother's on her mother's side.
"It is too much! I cannot take it anymore!" the little girl bawled.
Evelyn could see genuine pain in her daughter's face. The shimmering eyes did not seem to belong to a child.
'Could it be?'
'It must be. There is no other explanation.'
"You are not my little Ashley, are you?" Evelyn posed, a tear rolling down her right cheek.