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This vintage, grand stairway picture was taken in the Victorian home where I grew up. I modeled the old farm- house grand stairway after it. |
The group gathered in the spacious farmhouse kitchen to begin the next leg of the
tour.
Tiffany took a dreamy breath, “I
can almost smell all those home-cooked meals prepared with love over the years and recall the laughter of those who enjoyed them. It’s like this place has memories in the walls.”
Bob
admired the vintage tin ceiling. “How long have those tiles been there?”
Raul
shrugged. “As long as anyone can remember.”
He cleared his throat. “As you can see, the stove and refrigerator
have seen better days. But thanks to our mom and Stella’s dad, we have new countertops and oak
cabinets.”Stella gave a little laugh. “My dad taught her how to use tools
and build things. Now she can’t stop.”“They installed them the last time they visited,” Laura explained.
A room visible through an archway contained toys and a child’s
table and chairs.
“Tyler’s playroom,”
“It may have once served as a place to dry clothes when it was too
cold outside, and they would freeze on the line,” Laura added.
She pointed to a narrow stairway that led upstairs from the
kitchen.
“Some people call them the maid’s stairs, but we never had a maid,”
Raúl led everyone through the rest of the first floor, stopping to
point things out or answer questions.
“Yes, the ceilings are ten feet high, and yes, we use all the
downstairs fireplaces, but mostly the one in the foyer since the heat rises up the stairway. Note the smoke stains on the ceilings.”
“Do you know who built the house or lived here previously?”
someone asked.
Laura answered. “A man in his nineties told our parents it was
built by a farmer and his wife, who had ten kids and parents living with them.
They lived here for generations, but the place had long been empty when our
parents bought it for almost nothing. They made repairs when they could, but it
was a never-ending job.”
“Yup,” Raul agreed. “It requires almost constant maintenance.”
Bob could not stop admiring the home’s amenities. “But look at the
glass doorknobs and antique light fixtures. The place is amazing.”
Josh agreed, still running his hand along the wall, occasionally tapping it.
“The construction is solid. Many older homes were built with lath and plaster, making them structurally stronger than the drywall
construction of today’s homes.”
He paused in the living room, or parlor as it was called in more
formal times, to admire the scrolled marble fireplace with andirons
to hold firewood.
“Are those pipes sticking from the wall old gas lights?” Bob asked
as they moved on.
Raúl nodded. “That they are.”
He motioned everyone to the foot of the grand stairway, broad at
its base, then tapering up along a wall to a landing, from which a shorter
stairway rose to the second-floor corridor. A picture window stretched along
the stairway.
Its railing, the decorative newel post at its base, and the ascending
row of balustrade posts gleamed with fresh varnish.
“Stella polished them,” Raúl gestured to his wife.
When the group applauded, Stella dipped into a well-practiced
ballerina curtsy. It was as if she was on stage. She pranced up a few steps.
Only one more floor to go until they discover the secret.
** A fictional setting in my inspirational thriller, Bibles and Bones in the Forest, coming soon from Miller Words, the old farmhouse combines an actual farmhouse in rural Virginia, with the Victorian home on Staten Island, New York, where I grew up.
Watch for the book.
MillerWords: https://www.facebook.com/MillerWords
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