Page 3 of Willowbrooke
I nodded, giving no indication of my confusion at his ambivalence. Strangely, despite the lack of lighting, the sprawling space was like something out of a book.
Leo led me up a narrow staircase, likely used by servants when the home was first built in the eighteen hundreds.
The second floor was warmer and even more stifling than the first. I followed Leo room by room. He quickly opened and closed doors for the dual masters on either side of the home, the three modestly-sized bedrooms in between them, and the bathrooms.
The three guest rooms would have had views overlooking the back lawn, out to the ocean, if the windows had beenopen. Each decorated in a different color. One in green, one in pink, and one in blue.
Sheets covered most of the furniture in the rooms, leaving me eager to uncover what gems might lie beneath. The more authentic and vintage pieces that could be reused in the home, the better.
“Will you require redecorating for all the rooms?” I asked, trying again, awkwardly, to make conversation.
“Yes, they haven’t been touched for almost thirty years.” Leo paused, “I don’t know what’s in all the rooms. Do you require an inventory?” For the first time since he’d opened the front door, he made eye contact with me.
His gaze was dark and deep. The intensity caused my stomach to flutter.
I looked away as I shook my head. “Not right away, just curious—if there are quality pieces, it would be great to keep them here.”
Leo didn’t respond. He merely closed the door to the second master and turned to make his way back down the grand staircase at the front of the house, bringing us back to the foyer yet again. Leo continued into the kitchen, pulling out a barstool at the counter for me, before taking a seat next to me.
A pregnant pause added to the stagnant air before I decided to speak first, rather than wait for Leo, who seemed lacking in conversation. “Here’s my portfolio.” I slid the binder across the counter toward him.
Leo pushed it to the side and made eye contact with me again. “So, what would you do with the house?” he asked plainly.
I took a beat; this wasn’t how I had expected the interview to start. “I think the better question is what doyouwant to do with the house?” I replied. “Your needs, tastes, and desires are what should drive a project this big.”
Leo narrowed his gaze for a split second, and I thought perhaps I had annoyed him with my answer. “If it wasyours, what would you do?” he rephrased his question.
I leaned back on the stool, breaking eye contact to refocus on the open living space behind him. “Well, all the curtains would be open, first of all. The natural lighting, with the positioning of the home, would completely change the vibe of the place.”
Leo seemed to consider my request, but didn’t move a muscle.
I continued, “I can see there was a larger scale renovation done around the eighties, if I had to guess. The workmanship, both inside and outside is less than spectacular—maybe a bit too trendy for the time. It doesn’t adequately showcase the original features of the home.” I looked around, wrinkling my nose at the faux wood paneling behind the dining set.
“Even if the curtains were open, it’s much too dark in here. There’s a time and place for a moodier room—the library, for instance, looks beautiful with darker tones, but this space”—I used my arms to motion around me—“itcould and should be lighter.
“The rooms upstairs—what I could see of them, are also dated, but there seems to be a lot of vintage, perhaps even original furniture around the house.” I paused. “If the house was mine, I would restore what I could—this style of home is quintessential New England, and the damage done by the past renovations can be fixed.
“I think there’s a way to marry the original work with a mix of vintage and modern furnishings and textiles, while paying homage to the original design. You don’t have to sacrifice modern conveniences or aesthetics to do this home justice.”
I gave Leo a moment to respond; he remained silent, but I thought perhaps he was intrigued.
I continued, “There are big jobs to be done here. The flooring will need to be replaced, but under the linoleum and carpet, there may be original hardwood floors. There are details missing that should be present in a home this age, but there are good reproductions available now, so it would be easy to undo the mistakes made by past changes.”
I smiled at Leo, indicating I was finished, and he nodded.
He pulled my portfolio in front of him and began to flip through it. The light that I thought I’d seen in his eyes while I had described what I could do for his home slowly faded.
I held back a sigh, preparing myself for what was coming next.
“An associate’s degree,” he stated.
I nodded, though he was still focused on the folder in front of him. “Yes, and my experience at Abbot Architecture for the last decade makes me uniquely qualified to handle project management as well.” I repeated verbatim what Mina had instructed me to say.
Leo glanced up at me. “You’d do both?”
“Yes.” I nodded again.
His eyes returned to the portfolio. “You don’t have any professional experience with your design work, just small projects?” He seemed unimpressed with the photos of the apartment living rooms—I had known he would be.
