I sat on a pillowy duvet, back braced up against a walnut headboard and tried to soak in my surroundings.
The bed & breakfast we were staying at was like something out of a Hemingway novel. We had the penthouse — with a large bathroom including spa tub, a sitting area with French doors that opened outward revealing a third-story terrace.
Another door afforded us a second entrance onto the deck, which showed the river snaking through enormous live oaks.
Each dainty piece of decor must have been specially chosen to compliment the room. A walnut clothes cabinet … sweeping mahogany rockers … buttery warm chocolate curtains flanking gorgeous white woodwork on French doors … a cream bed cover, wrapped with scrolling coffee-colored embroidery …
…A full-length floor mirror, resting soundly on wooden hinges … and blue Victorian throw pillows stitched with soft, golden rope and embossed with pearl and golden designs.
They all formed a silent template for the outstanding pistachio walls, arching over the sitting area and buttressed by exquisite white crown molding. This room could have easily been transported from Key West to South Texas.
The soothing shades seemed to actually cool down the outside heat and bring fresh air into an otherwise unbearable humidity.
Brent had a dozen roses in an outstanding bouquet waiting there for me when we arrived. Each cream flower was etched with fuchsia at the edges. Matching fuchsia carnations and dark purple asters stood next to lime greenery.
A couple-size wedding cake was perched atop a beautiful stand beside the roses. A bottle of champagne was chilling in a stainless steel ice chalice between the flowers and cake.
My new husband made everything serenely romantic.