Savannah stepped over the threshold and back in time. The furnishings were Victorian and nautical in flavor. A sofa covered in burgundy velvet, with a diamond-tufted back, carved wood trim, and claw-feet, dominated the far wall. In front of the sofa, a massive marine chest—its top covered by a sheet of cobalt blue mirror—served as a coffee table. The walls were hung with gilt-framed paintings of clipper ships in full sail, battling their way through tempest-tossed seas. In other renderings, warships fired upon each other amid billows of dark smoke and bright flame. In the center of the ceiling hung a chandelier made of a giant ship’s wheel, studded with hurricane-glass chimneys, while brass lanterns warmed the corners of the room with soft golden light. Above the stone fireplace, on a heavy wooden mantel, sat a model ship, imprisoned in a giant glass bottle. Antique leather books and a brass sextant graced the opposite ends of the mantel. Savannah stood there, absorbing it all—the romance of a bygone era.
