“Not exactly. Back when for the servants. The kitchen, their dining hall, their work spaces, downstairs. Their living quarters were up on the third floor, north wing.”
“Wing,” she murmured. “The place has wings.”
“You can get more of the history from my father, but I’m pretty sure they stopped using it for that purpose in the thirties. Collin put a media room down below.”
“A media room.”
“He liked movies, and the dumbwaiter came in handy there. There’s a gym down there, too. He kept fit. Upstairs is either closed off or used for storage. The Pooles collected a lot over a couple hundred years.”
He gave her that quiet smile. “I thought seeing this would cheer you up.”
“Good call. I’m not sad—not really. A little overwhelmed. Bullshit. A lot overwhelmed. What am I going to do with all this space?”
“Use what works for you, close off the rest.”
“A practical man.”
“Mostly. So, second floor, bedrooms, including the main, with its own bath—Collin again. A couple of the other rooms have their own baths, and there’s another full one, a sitting room. And my personal favorite.”
He opened a set of pocket doors to what she knew would be a turret room. And she gasped.
Chapter Six
Under a soaring ceiling, a two-story library had bookcases on its rounded wall full of books. Over the massive stone fireplace, the thick, carved wood of the mantel held candlestands of varying height. Centered between them, a mantel clock, its oval face framed in wood, ticktocked the time.
Stairs wound up to the second story. Through the arched windows she saw a light snow had begun to fall.
Window seats offered cozy nooks for reading, deep chocolate–colored leather sofas a place to sprawl with a book or take a nap.
Centered in the room, a big, beautiful old desk, gently curved, sat on a round carpet of muted pinks and greens.
“It’s—it’s everything. I could live in here, and I just found my studio.”
“Graphic art, right?”
“Mmm. Maybe it’s anachronistic to set a computer on that amazing desk, but that’s just what I’m going to do. I love everything about it. The—what do you call it—millwork? All thick and carved and dark, the soaring ceiling. Jesus, counting the second story, it’s as big—probably bigger—than my entire house. I need a big screen. Not on the wall. I wouldn’t touch these walls. I’ll get a stand.”
“There’s a big-ass flat-screen upstairs.”
“Get out!” She ran over and up. “This is it! I figured on taking one of the bedrooms or parlors or maybe Collin’s office to set up. But this?”
Grinning, she looked over the rail, down at him.
“Is it?”
“It is. I’ll make this work. I can make this work. Your favorite?” She turned a circle before coming down again. “My favorite. By a mile.”
“That’s how you looked when you got out of the car.”
“How’s that?”
“Happy. Alive with it.”
“I fell in love. Boom. When I saw the house. Now I’ve fallen all over again.”
“There’s still more.”
“Nothing’s going to top this.”
Her bedroom—in the twin turret （yay!） with its sweeping view of the sea—came close.
Her own sitting room, which made her wonder why people sat so damn much, opened into the bedroom with its big four-poster, another window seat. A fireplace simmered. A pair of atrium doors opened to the little balcony with a curved wall. The soft blue walls held art—the quiet sort of misty forests, blooming meadows.
Fresh flowers sat on the dresser with its oval mirror reflecting the room.
“It’s just lovely.”
“My sister switched some of it out. She said it was too much a man’s room.”
“It’s perfect. Thank her for me.”
“That’s a fainting couch—according to Anna.” He gestured to the curved sofa in soft blue-and-gold stripes at the foot of the bed. “In case.”
“If I swoon, I’ll try to hit that. The bathroom’s like the kitchen.”
“First I’ve heard that one.”
“It’s got the modern but maintains the character. Claw-foot tub, but a big glass shower. The sweet little washbasin stand, but this old cabinet or dresser converted into a vanity with double sinks. And the tile looks like stone, the sconces like, well, sconces.
“Collin Poole had really good taste.”