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Sitting up in bed, Michael tried not to react. He examined 302. It reminded him of a bedroom they had seen the day before at Versailles. Thick, gold, floor length drapes darkened the small window in the wall on his right. A strip of light and a moist cloud of steam mixed with strong, woodsy French perfume drifted from the bathroom on his left. Shiny, polished wood floors shone under the band of light. Between the entryway further down the left wall and the bathroom, there was a large, Louis the 14th chair. Michael took his glasses from the nightstand. He looked at the chair’s curly carved arms, carved hoof legs, and bloated cushions upholstered with flowers on a cream background. A nice looking chair, he thought, and nice wallpaper behind the chair. How can Sonya not like this room?
The walls were covered with fuzzy, cream colored cloth. Opposite the bed was a black dressing table with curvy gold scrollwork around a large rectangular mirror. Clamshells sprouting from the leg tops hid the joint between the legs and cabinet. A stool upholstered with flowers on a cream background stood in front of the dressing table. The bureau next to the dressing table and the nightstand at the head of the bed were also black, gleaming with more gold scrollwork.
“What’s wrong with this room?” Michael asked himself aloud just as one of Sonya’s words began to spin around inside his head. Charles? Charles who? Charlie Ashe? Charlie? Marry? In love with Charlie?
Was she making a joke about Charlie Ashe? The tall silent guy? Extremely self-centered? The surgeon? Married to that Barbara?