Mansion is the more proper term. Uncle James protested that it wasn’t all that grand, only having fourteen bedrooms, and that Cornelius would not even consider it fit to be a tenement.“Cornelius?” I questioned him.“Cornelius Vanderbilt.”I gaped. “You know Cornelius Vanderbilt?” I exclaimed.“Oh yes, loaned him some money once, in fact. Rather too flashy for my tastes, however. Everything has to be bigger than anyone else’s, his mansion, his yacht. I suppose that if I were to show up at his door on a larger horse than his he would have to buy an elephant from Mr. Barnum to outdo me.”The mansion was at the end of a long chestnut-shrouded drive, and as we arrived, more than a few of his staff came up and lined the walkway to greet us. The house, as he called it, was an imposing brick and granite structure, fully three stories tall, with a broad front and a pair of long wings. Uncle James stepped down and then helped me alight, then turned to our audience and introduced me, saying I would. And presents should be opened on Christmas morning, not Christmas eve. That was the way we’d always done it, with just the six of us, and no one else. I swallowed, knowing this was going to be one of the hardest things I’d ever done.It was getting worse out. I was pretty sure I was going to have to stop, but the part of me I get from Dad didn’t want to quit, wanted to tough it out. And it’s hard to ignore that voice…it’s been there all my life.But the snow was swirling all around the car and making hypnotic patterns in the headlights. I was tired already after my last final this afternoon, and I was making much worse time than I had hoped because the roads were bad – and getting slippery.Already I had seen three or four cars off in the ditch, as well as one pick-up truck, and the road felt treacherous as I held the wheel of my Pontiac Sky Chief. I had TigerPaws on the wheels, and they were doing great – but that would work only up to a point. I had a sinking feeling I wasn’t going to.
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