I say smartly.He clears his throat, intimidating me with gruffness, “Hawthorne. Won’t you come in, Mr. Carmichael?”As a lifelong Charlestonian I’ll admit to not taking advantage of the historical monuments that are practically in my own front yard, and somehow I even missed the eighth grade field trip and have never even stepped foot on Fort Sumter. But as I stand in the foyer of the Devereux Mansion I realize all that I’ve been missing. Everything in the cavernous hall is an antique; quality of the kind that can’t be created in today’s world of technology. As a man I’m not supposed to notice things like Aubusson carpets and carved mahogany staircases, but damn… this place will knock you off your feet!“Follow me, Mr. Carmichael.” Hawthorne leads the way into another massive room that is dark paneled and filled with wall to wall books, heavy draperies cut off the mid-afternoon light, and furniture fit for a king fills the room to almost a cluttered appearance. It’s so full in fact that it takes a few moments for my eyes to adjust to the dim light combined with sensory overload. I didn’t even notice the small woman on the lounge chair in the left corner of the room, “It’s rather ostentatious don’t you think, Mr.
