“Oh my gosh, Mom. This is so dope,” Mia said as we entered the living room.
Two stories of soaring ceilings with exposed white-painted beams. Windows everywhere—floor to ceiling, letting in the ocean view. A fireplace with a simple white surround and built-in shelving on either side, filled with books and treasures that were important to Vance and me. The furniture we’d chosen together—deep, comfortable sofas in soft grays and creams, a driftwood coffee table, coastal rugs that tied it all together.
“It’s like a magazine,” Margot said.
“Better than a magazine,” Vance said. “Because we get to live in it.”
I walked through slowly, running my hand along the sofa back, adjusting a throw pillow, moving a vase an inch to the left.
“Let’s go see the kitchen,” I said. “The heart of every home.”
“Mom, you’re not on television any longer,” Mia said. “You don’t have to say stuff like that.”
I laughed. “Come on then.”
They all followed me into the kitchen. I’d gone traditional with most of the choices. Fads went in and out, but classic remained relevant for years and years. Cream shaker cabinetsstretched to the ceiling, glass-fronted uppers showing off simple white dishes. Vance had asked for marble countertops, which I’d paired with beautiful brass lantern pendants over the island. Subway tile for the backsplash. Inspired by the French countryside, a farmhouse sink was set below windows overlooking the ocean.
“Thank goodness they finally sent me the right cabinets,” I said. “That took years off my life.”
Mia ran her fingers along the stove top. “It’s over now, Mom. And this is awesome.”
Vance pulled me against his chest. “It truly is spectacular.”
I leaned into him, breathing in the scents of fresh paint and the ocean air coming through the open windows.
“It will be the heart of this home,” Vance said. “Think of all the meals we’ll have here.”
“All the popping of corks,” I said.
“Making cookies,” Margot added.
“Wait,” Vance said, his eyes lighting up. “There’s one more thing on this floor. The most important room in the house—besides the kitchen.”
“Your office?” Mia guessed.
“Better.” He led us to a door beside the pantry that I’d designed to look like part of the wall paneling. When he opened it, stairs descended into soft, amber light.
We followed him down into a temperature-controlled wine cellar that took my breath away every time I saw it. The contractor had done an incredible job bringing my vision to life.
Reclaimed wood walls. Custom floor-to-ceiling wine racks holding hundreds of bottles, organized by region and varietal. A small tasting table with four chairs. Soft lighting that made the bottles glow like jewels. A ladder on rails for reaching the highest shelves.
“Whoa,” Mia breathed. “This is so cool.”
Vance ran his hand along one of the racks, his expression almost reverent. “This is my favorite room in the house. Well, tied with the kitchen.”
“How many bottles can you fit?” Margot asked.
“About eight hundred. Right now I have around three hundred, so plenty of room to grow.”
“Can we have wine tastings down here?” Mia asked.
“Your mother and I can. When you’re twenty-one, you can join us,” Vance said, laughing. “But yes. Family and friend tastings will happen frequently. I want to teach you both about wine and food pairings. Maybe you’ll find it to be one of your passions, just as it is for your mother and me.”
“I don’t like it down here,” Margot said. “It’s cold.”
“Temperature controlled, not cold,” Vance said, laughing again. “But, it’s time to see the bedrooms. I hope you two are ready to have your minds blown.”
We climbed the wide stairs with a white railing to the second floor. We stopped first in the bedroom Vance and I were to share. I’d chosen soft whites and gentle blues, wide plank floors, a king bed dressed in crisp linens and layered pillows. There were windows on two walls, one overlooking the ocean. Matching reading chairs by the window swiveled to face either the ocean view or the fireplace. Vance had chosen a painting from Delphine’s gallery. A simple coastal landscape that we’d hung above the bed.
