The Monticello Place

The 55-acre Jefferson Mansion sits on the summit of an 850-foot-peak of the Blue Ridge Mountains in Central Virginia. On long summer evenings, the golden glow of the 64-room statehouse casts a shadow over the city of Charlottesville in the valley below.

Thomas and Mary Jefferson enjoy the bustling activity of the unique home that quarters 28 master bedrooms and 21 full baths. Three fully maintained kitchens are busy day and night with the constant flow of guests, family and friends who fill the home and surrounding gardens with happy laughter and friendly camaraderie.

A 55-foot-long music chamber nestles in the heart of the mansion, and each of the 12 16,000-square-foot guesthouses enjoys its own private spa, beauty salon, media room, kitchen and flower garden.

The staff come and go from separate living quarters secluded on the back of the property . These apartment dwellings include master bedrooms, hot tubs, nurseries, children’s playground, tennis courts, game rooms and a private pool.

Guests are arriving from the city of Charlottesville, a few minutes away. Glittering golden lights line the three-mile roadway to the mansion, and droves of white doves welcome visitors at the crystal blue gates that reflect every color of the rainbow. Evening attire is soft comfortable clothing and no shoes

Invited guests wait with bated breath while the gleaming white and gold doors to the mansion swing open and Mary stands in the arched entrance with a welcome smile and small trays of sparkling fruit juice. Dressed in flowing garments of earth colors with her tiny toes peeking out below, she greets each person with a soothing kiss on the cheek as she places a sparkling goblet in their hands.

As each special guest steps through the two-story gold encrusted entrance, it seems he has entered through a gateway into another world. A breathtakingly beautiful waterfall drops from the center of the great room and splashes gently on bare feet, washing away worry and stress. Subdued colorful lights make one feel hypnotic and free. The fragrance from the mired of flowers is just enough to make everyone tilt their head in anticipation.

The sparkling waterfall disappears under the floor only to reappear splashing freely through clear sunlit tubes that lead underground. The walls and ceiling are covered with sprays of exotic flowers shipped in every day from various parts of the world. A glowing bronze walkway leads downward to a cool 10,000-bottle wine and juice cellar and onward toward an expansive underground city filled with intimate sunken rooms.

Candles of all colors glow in every nook and corner. Colorful snapping fireplaces invite one to sit and enjoy fresh tasty fruits at small tables. Soft music of angel voices are barely perceptible to the ear and surround each person like a thin film of protection, relaxing every muscle and awakening feelings that have been asleep for a long time.

Further along the smooth path, the magical guesthouses are laid out in perfect detail.

Those who follow the gilded tiles from the front entrance on an upward incline, enter into a complex of day spas that no one had ever seen in its entirety. Large pools of pure clear water are surrounded by rippling streams filled with colorful little fish. Mineral waterfalls add an ambiance of slow movement and swirling whirlpool baths surrounded one with peace and serenity. Hypnotic aromas raft through the cool fresh air, and one imagines the slightest of sea breezes flowing from room to room.

To be pampered and catered by Mary and her family at the world-renown Jefferson Mansion near headwaters of the Rivanna River is considered the gift of a lifetime.

This famous home was handed down to Mary from her parents who had spent most of their life designing and redesigning the great mansion. Many ideas and furnishings came from their frequent trips around the world. When her parents died during a global flu pendemic, Mary had chosen to share her riches freely with the world. She invited rich and poor alike to get renewal and strength from the grand mountaintop home.

Today, only 15 guests arrived to spend a week of luxurious relaxation and unearthly spiritualness with Mary and her family. For almost a decade, thousands had been entertained, pampered and rejuvenated in the comforts of this unusual southern home.

But now, as each guest sipped the cool refreshing drink and stood in awe at this scene of purest beauty, Mary sensed that something was not quite right. Maybe it was an unsettled sigh she heard in the air, or lack of something. Sometimes her unconditional acceptance had brought in people who did not appreciate her generosity and graciousness, but entered on their own terms, not respectful of others and anxious to explore outside the expected paths. Mary was always mindful of those few.

As the evening sunset left it’s warm glow over the gardens, Mary felt satisfied that everyone was settled into their space and happy. She quietly entered into a secret garden accessible only to close family members. Her husband and 12-year old daughter, Martha, were going to watch a new movie with their guests. Their older son, Peter was out of town.

As Mary relaxed in the rose garden with her watercolors, and added the final touches to her butterfly painting, she was startled by a loud popping sound in the vicinity of the media house. Fireworks were never allowed on the property because of the many birds and small animals that nested there. She knew something was terribly wrong, even as she tried to excuse the noise as fireworks.

But, stepping out of the soft woods, her heart sank with an ill feeling. Someone was running. Terrified screams rang out into the gathering darkness. Several bodies lay silent and still on the ground. Suddenly, Mary was looking down at the lifeless body of her husband and, like a slow-moving arrow, she fell into a dark abyss at his side. That was the last she remembered of the night that took away her loving companion and beautiful little daughter.

Word of the insane shooting crackled around the world as 'Breaking News' within minutes, but Mary neither saw nor heard a word of it. For weeks, she lay in a deep catatonic coma. Peter did not know if his mother would live or die. Everyone present at the movie had been killed or died soon after. The mentally ill man who created the fatal catastrophic event had killed himself, and Peter had no one to pour out his grief to except at the bedside his silent and unmoving mother.

Eventually, Mary responded to the tender care of her nurses and Peter's persistent urgings, but she was never the same sparkling women who had opened her doors and arms to the world.

Everyone had been shocked at the decline in Mary’s health and change in her personality. She had fired every housekeeper, cook, maid and gardener. She turned off the magical waterfall and let the flowers die. The living spas became a molting tomb, and the colorful flower gardens had become tangled with weeds and vines.

Now, three years later, she never left her bedroom and refused to accept visitors. Peter left food and water outside her door when she ignored his pleas to enter. Today she responded no differently to Peter's gentle tapping, but she peeked through the thick curtains to the dry grass below. The open gate tilted to one side even as rainbows still sparkled from the broken crystal. She noticed a long black car parked out front with a strange symbol on the door. She heard the tapping, but made no effort to respond.

Peter was the only one left to look after his mother, and he was worried and dismayed at the changes he could not control. She had locked the doors and closed her heart to everyone. He knew her health was failing and it broke his heart. He peered through the dust-encrusted great room window. His mother was nowhere in sight, and an unpleasant odor penetrated his nose even from out on the formidable foyer.

Pushing the heavy door open once opened in welcome by his mother every day, Peter averted his eyes from the gray walls that in years past were alive with lush, living growth. His feet slipped on the moldy tiles as his steps led upwards to his mother’s room where she sat in darkness. Stepping into his mother's living area, he saw dirty dishes and dry, stale food. Discarded clothing was scattered on the floor. The rooms were darkened with shades drawn tight. The magnificent home on the hill that had once sparkled with love, laughter and mirth was still and silent. The air was heavy. His mother had no strength to welcome her only son.

But today, Peter had good news. Even though he knew his mother couldn’t comprehend the magnitude, he wanted to share something that he hoped would bring back some spark of life to his mother’s heart. He had been offered 50-million dollars to restore the mansion into something called, “The Laughing Place”.