Arabella tugged Rex's sleeve, whispering, "So it's like a movie set that never got taken down?"
"Exactly," Vivienne said, warmth in her voice. "Except this movie had a revolving cast of real people. Legends walked these halls, made deals, ruined careers, fell in love, got blacklisted, got knighted… you name it."
She guided him toward a panelled corridor with portraits and old photographs. "And that painting over there," she pointed to a framed black-and-white photo of a glittering gala, "is from the opening gala. Imagine… 3,000 guests, orchestras, canaries in cages, seven courses, dancing. The whole city dressed to kill, sneaking in even though Prohibition was happening. They called this place 'The Host of the Coast.'"
Rex let his fingers lightly brush the walnut frame of a photo showing Douglas Fairbanks and Mary Pickford in period attire. He smiled at Vivienne. "So this place isn't just old money… it's legendary money."
