Cloie

He tells it best! [The following is from Matt's POV] I'd picked the bridge in the "back yard" of Rough Point as my preferred spot to propose to my lady love a long time ago.  The trick was getting her there.  My grandmother, mother, Cloie and myself had all visited Newport last August, and bought tickets to visit the Breakers and one other Newport Mansion of our choosing.  We had enough fun at the Breakers and along the Cliff Walk that we didn't have time to see anything else, but the tickets had no expiration date on them, and Mom and Grandma graciously handed their leftover tickets to us, telling us to go see another house another day.  "Another Day" was this past Saturday, I suggested, and Cloie agreed, to my relief. To my further satisfaction--at least as far as getting that acting degree to count for something--we spent the previous night seeing Nikka Costa and Bronze Radio Return in a standing-room only club, and I was able to complain that my knee was bothering me from all the jostling patrons (and all the boogie fever).  I muttered my way up the steps of Marble House, rubbing my knee and selling a minor injury as best I could without taking away from Alva Vanderbilt's amply decorated "dress closet". When the time came--late afternoon, this was--to attempt the Cliff Walk, Cloie suggested a shorter path than usual, noting my injured knee.  I hemmed and hawed, trying to find a parking spot closer to the Rough Point end (good luck; it's all members'-only private clubs and "no parking after 6 P.M." signs all the way up the road), until finally "giving in" and parking near Salva Regina University, about halfway up the Cliff Walk. For those who haven't walked it, the Cliff Walk offers a gorgeous view of the ocean on one side and the backs of many of Newport's most luxurious Gilded Age mansions on the other.  Toward the beginning, it's paved, but the path gradually disappears and is replaced by gigantic break-your-ankle rocks to hop across toward the end.  Rough Point itself has a scenic little hewn bridge and a few steps, but it's a bit of a workout to get there. As I started down those steps, I twisted a bit to the side and screamed in pain.  Holding my knee the whole way, I limped across to the middle of the bridge.  Cloie, who was having heart palpitations by this point (the path is somewhat remote from tourist traffic, and she was starting to wonder, "How can an ambulance get out here?  Are we going to have to get a helicopter?")  I knelt down and faced her worried (but beautiful) face. "How was that?  Was that pretty convincing?"  I asked a confused Clo.  "I worked pretty hard, actually, to get down on one knee..."  That's when she knew, and when the ring box came out of my pocket, that's when the tears began. I sort of flubbed my planned lines, but I got the bulk of them out.  "This is one of my favorite spots on Earth.  The house is called Rough Point, but the name comes from these rocks that are underneath us right now.  Cloie, I want to give you this house, this...big, good, thing here (Matt's brain: "Durr, how does werds werk, again?")...but I can't guarantee you anything more than the rocks.  In our lives ahead.  Nevertheless, I really, really love you, and I have to ask...and this is for real, this time...Clorissa Rose Harnois, will you marry me?" I see by your observation of the Facebook Relationship Status Change (the 21st century equivalent of announcing your engagement in the newspaper) that you know what her answer was. Thanks to the two Swedish joggers who passed by while I was down on one knee and said, "Oh!  Ja!  Congratulations!" before I was even done saying anything.  Other than them, it was just as I planned it:  a perfect summer's day, just before sunset.   Coming someday or another:  wedding dates, actual plans on how to be grown-ups, etc.