“Did you ever slide down this banister?”
“As a matter of fact, I did.” He nodded with a faraway look.
She was surprised. It was hard to imagine serious George ever doing something with that kind of abandon. “Well, I’ll bet you haven’t done it lately,” she teased.
“No, no ... not lately.”
Willow looked at the framed black-and-white photographs on the stairway wall. “Are these family pictures?”
“Yes. My grandmother loved to take photographs.”
“These are so good.” Willow stared at a photo of a young man leaning against an old pickup. “Who is this?”
“Alex,” George said. “Shortly before Vietnam.”
“Oh.” She nodded. “He was handsome.” She pointed to an adorable freckle-faced boy cuddling up with a big tiger-striped cat. “Is that you, George?”
“And my cat, Buddy.”
“You had a cat?”
“Uh-huh. The only one I ever liked. But he was a Maine Coon. They’re not a typical cat.”
“Buddy.” She studied the animal’s sweet face. “It almost looks like he was smiling.”
“Buddy had an excellent disposition. My grandfather always said he was more like a dog than a cat.”
“He looks very sweet.”
“Best ever. Maine Coons are not your ordinary cat. Besides their superior physical traits, like three layers of fur, long fluffy tails, and oversized feet, they’re extremely intelligent. And they’re such good mousers the Puritans brought them to America to protect the grain aboard the ships.”
“Interesting.” Willow was surprised to hear him speaking so favorably about felines—who would’ve guessed?
Now George led her through a set of sliding-glass pocket doors into a large living room with gleaming wood floors.
“I see what you mean by updates.” Willow smiled at the modern-style sofa and coffee table and chairs, arranged on a yellow shag area rug. “Mid-Century meets Edwardian. Very interesting.”
“My grandmother picked these pieces out in the sixties. I think she said they were Danish Modern.”
“Your grandmother had good taste.”
“Even though it doesn’t match the era of the house?”
“Well, I doubt that many people would be terribly comfortable with the Victorian furnishings that were in vogue a hundred years ago.”
“Maybe not. The kitchen is this way.” George led her through a large dining room. Although it had dark panels and a crystal chandelier, the dining pieces were pale, sleek, and Mid-Century. All were in excellent condition.
“These furnishings are probably quite valuable,” she told George.
“I suppose.” He pushed open a set of swinging doors. “The kitchen.”
Willow looked around the spacious room, surprised to see that it looked like something from the eighties. Oak cabinets, blue Formica countertops, white vinyl flooring, and white appliances. “Interesting.”
“I know.” George sighed. “It doesn’t quite fit the house. My grandmother had it redone shortly after I graduated college. Circa 1985.”
“Not exactly a fabulous time for style.”
“Yes, this is one room I’d like to see changed back to its original form.”
