Page 45 of Married in Michigan
Paxton grins. “I’ve got some pretty cool original pieces at my place in DC you may like to see, in that case.”
“Like what?” I ask.
His grin is mischievous. “Let it be a surprise?”
The foyer of the home is a palace in and of itself, with a giant chandelier made of dangling crystals and Edison bulbs, an acre of marble, with Greco-Roman statues flanking each side of a pair of curving staircases which frame the foyer space. We walk out through French doors which are easily six feet wide and twenty feet tall, made of heavy dark oak to contrast with the white marble floor and white ceiling.
Outside, another grand, sweeping staircase like you’d see at a courthouse or something, descends to a wide circular driveway of cobblestones ringing a stunning fountain, the centerpiece of which is another Greco-Roman statue of a mostly nude woman tastefully covered in the folds of a dangling robe, one foot touching the waters of the pool, a jar under one arm from which water pours. Knowing this family, the statue is probably an actual antique statue from Ancient Greece or Rome, as with the statues in the foyer.
I glance at Paxton. “The fountain and the statues inside, are they…?”
He laughs. “Real? As in from like two thousand years ago? No. They’re hand-carved replicas of actual pieces from a museum in Athens, but they’re not actual real statues carved by the ancients. Shit like that has to be in a temperature-controlled museum environment. Keeping them here out in the open would be highly irresponsible.”
“Oh,” I say, feeling relieved for some reason.
“I can’t tell if you’re disappointed by that, or relieved.”
I laugh. “Me either.”
Paxton laughs with me. “You know, I think Uncle Nicholas does actually own a piece of legitimate Roman statuary, but it’s on long-term loan to…the Berlin Museum, I believe.”
I snort. “Figures.”
Waiting at the top of the circle is the long, low, sleek, black Mercedes sedan, which isn’t a limousine, as in stretched, but when I get in its clear this vehicle is, yet again, something extraordinary. The seats are…beyond words. Stitched, quilted white leather, supple and soft to the touch, so comfortable I feel like I’m sitting on a cloud. There are only two seats in the back, so it’s not designed to carry a lot of people, but rather one or two people in extreme luxury. Large digital screens were installed on the rear of each front seat, providing each passenger with his or her own individual viewing experience, and each seat also includes recliner-style extendable footrests, and enough footwell space to fully extend them. Upon further inspection, I realized that the rear compartment is adjustable, so if there are only two passengers, it could be arranged as it is now, and if space for four passengers was needed, two additional rear-facing seats could be folded down.
Paxton is watching me examine my surroundings, and I see the expectant look on his face.
“Okay,” I sighed. “I’ll indulge you. What is this thing I’m in? I’ll admit it’s impressive.”
Paxton face palms himself. “Impressive.”
I shrugged. “Yeah, it’s nice. Comfy.”
A laugh, disbelieving, as with everything else he imagined I would be in awe over. “It’s a Mercedes-Maybach Pullman.”
I shook my head. “Okay?”
A sigh. “Unbelievable. Basically, the version of a limousine used by royalty, as in literal kings and queens and Sultans. It’s bulletproof, for one thing.”
I cackle. “Just in case terrorists want to assassinate you, way out here in Northern Michigan, huh?”
A shrug. “Right? Dad bought it. He keeps it here most of the time, but if he has to travel abroad, he takes the 747 and brings this with him.”
“The 747?” I ask.
“Customized to carry several vehicles, plus three executive suites, a movie theater, and a full kitchen,” he clarifies.
“Of course,” I say with a snort. “How else should he travel?”
Paxton laughs. “You think I’m out of touch with reality? You should meet Dad. His idea of slumming it is…” He pauses, tilts his head. “Well, to be honest, he doesn’t even know what that is. I doubt he’s been inside any means of transportation within the last twenty-five years which he doesn’t personally own, and which costs less than half a million dollars.”
I blink. “I…wow.”
“Right now, he’s in Marseilles with Mom, I’m guessing. He flew into Pellston in the 747 with this car, collected Mom, and they flew to France, where they were taken by helicopter to their Mediterranean mega yacht, leaving the Pullman here because they won’t need a car in France, as they won’t leave the boat.”
“As opposed to their Caribbean mega yacht, I presume?”
“Precisely. Far more convenient to simply have one in both places than try to move it back and forth and have to plan far enough ahead to send it over when you want it.”