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Toni Baline stared out of the open French windows of the second floor guest bedroom and shielded her eyes with her hand to survey the green blanket of sweet-smelling manicured grass and linear hedges. They were flanking the cobblestone path leading from the breakfast patio to the kidney-shaped swimming pool whose cement rim ribboned out into the gently rolling hillocks beyond. The palatial house, situated in the lush, green hills bordering the western edge of Jameston, Alabama, caught the morning and noon sun, but had a cooler late afternoon and evening, thanks to the willow trees surrounding the pillared three-story home.
From her outlook, Toni watched the slow, methodical movements of the two young black maids now clearing the afternoon’s tea cups and silver service from the patio table and replacing the soiled linen with freshly starched checkered ones. In the far distance the unexpected sound of puppy barks, echoing from the hills to the right, ruptured the sticky, cloying Alabama afternoon, the sole imperfection of what otherwise would have been a perfect movie set.
Toni could not rid herself of the feeling that she was in a fantasy land, a dreamland of opulent make-believe. She studied her boyfriend who stood on the opposite side of the bed watching as he removed his sweat stained shirt and trousers to reveal his lanky frame, a tender emotion of deep affection filling her. They were the luckiest people on earth, she reasoned incredulously as she turned from the window to unzip and step out of her sun-dress.
Fictional reading for entertainment purposes only.