The only opinion everyone agreed upon was this: the family was an eccentric one. The northeastern home they occupied served as an intellectual's paradise, removed enough from city life to encourage curiosity, and full of wonders to spark creativity.
The parents frequently traveled for book tours and jaunts to Europe or Aspen with friends of similar interest. Old enough to be left alone, the children had the house to themselves during their parents' trips.
R., the eldest daughter, favored the dramatic and desired to be a fashion model or an artist's muse. She bullied her two younger brothers, T. and C., into participating as cameramen during her avant-garde photography sessions.
S. was a bookish sort, preferring to spend her days exploring the vast library rather than playing into her sister's fantasies.
The entire family lacked a sense of urgency and succumbed easily to laziness and excess. No one cared, for their sense of whimsy and spontaneity more than made up for it. Their style was also exemplified in visible ways: butterflies on the walls of the girls' dressing room, a signature striped sail on the family's boat and linens arranged for purely aesthetic purposes.
Only the perfectly manicured tennis court could capture the entire family's attention simultaneously. Sunday mornings were spent engaging in what was meant to be healthy sporting, but often devolved into merciless displays of competition by the patriarch.
At the suggestion of the mother, the whole clan would head indoors for a calming cup of tea and soon laughter and conversation emanated from the grand home once more.
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