She gazed around in amazement. When Roarke had brought her here weeks ago, she hadn't had time to really see anything. "It's lovely," she whispered, awed by the serene beauty of the foyer. The wide, open arch on the left revealed the living room, and she regarded the elegant furnishings for a few minutes. She could partially see the dining room through another arch at the end of the living room, its massive crystal chandelier sparkling in the sunlight, tossing prisms of color on the cool white walls.She noticed two doors on the other side of the entry. One was closed, but the other was slightly ajar. Peering into the slight opening, she pushed the door open and recognized the room from Martha's description. This had to be her den, she thought. Paintings, paints, and easels were stacked against the one wall, and an easel was standing in the corner just as Martha had told her.She went over to the easel and examined the canvas that was propped on its crossbar. The firm material was covered with a pale wash of colors.
