this has been in your family over 150 years?” I tilt my head back, marveling at the ornate ceiling, the paint peeling in sections.
Her expression falls. “After Gampy and Meemaw passed, it was foreclosed on when no one continued paying the second mortgage they’d taken out later in life. Luckily for us, whoever bought it at auction didn’t realize how much work this place needed, so they abandoned the project. It sat vacant for years. Until just a week ago when it returned to the rightful owners.” A smile lights up her face as she soaks in her surroundings, almost in disbelief. “Come on. I’ll show you what used to be the dining room.” She gestures to a set of double doors and slides them open.
“Holy crap,” I breathe, trying to hide my excitement. “Double pocket doors?” I run my hand along the frame. “You don’t see these much anymore.”
“They’re original, too. It’s amazing what a little WD-40 can do.”
“They started constructing houses with these around the time this was built,” I offer, hoping to impress her with my knowledge of history of design.
I’ll do whatever I need in order to get this job. I’ve only seen one room and am already in love. I have no idea how this woman found me, but that doesn’t matter. All that does is the feeling inside me that this is kismet, fate, destiny. I can’t explain it. Almost like that same electricity I experienced the first time I peered into Weston’s eyes. But it’s more than that. Like this is the day I take that first step toward achieving what I’ve always wanted but never had the guts to pursue — my own historic restoration and design business.
“My brother and I used to mess around with them when we were younger. Meemaw loved cooking. I would sit with her for hours, trying to learn everything I could. When it was time to eat, I’d open these doors and announce to my brother and Gampy that ‘Dinner was served’,” she mimics in a proper British accent as she leads me into the formal dining room.
A chandelier hangs from the high ceiling, and I can almost picture the dinner parties that were held within these walls. There’s a fireplace here, as well. This one with a more formal design than the one in the living room. Whereas some designers would probably want to tear down the wall between the living and dining rooms, I refuse to do that here. It’s more important to maintain the original integrity of the house. And tearing down the wall would mean destroying the pocket doors, and I firmly believe there’s a special place in hell for people who would commit such a travesty without cause.
“What’s through here?” I gesture toward a small door on the far side of the room.
“Butler’s pantry.” Julia reaches for what I suspect to be the original knob and opens the door. “Of course, when we were kids, we called it Meemaw’s pantry.”
“I like that.” I smile, following her into a small room with a window overlooking the side of the property, shelves filling the walls on either side. As with every other room, it needs some love. But unlike the others, a huge section of the wall between the pantry and kitchen is missing. “What happened here?”
“Previous owners were probably hoping to open up the kitchen.”
“Idiots,” I mumble, unable to stop myself.
She nods. “I agree wholeheartedly.”
“I’d like to fix the wall. I understand why they did it. These days, it seems every interior designer is all about knocking down every wall possible, but I don’t want to do that here. It’ll destroy this place’s character. I’d like to keep this Meemaw’s pantry. Find a vintage desk for below the window. Put some photos of Meemaw on it.”
“I love that idea.” A gleam in her eyes, she reaches for my hand and squeezes. “Better yet, Meemaw would like it.”
“Good.”
“Come on. There’s still lots more to see.” She walks out of the pantry, continuing her tour.
As she leads me through the rest of the house, I listen to her reminisce about her childhood here and offer the occasional suggestion about how to bring this place back to life, constantly snapping photos so I don’t forget a single detail.
After touring the bedrooms on the upper level and the enormous covered rear porch just off the kitchen that I can picture as the perfect entertaining area, we head back toward the front door.