The House

The two women made their way from floor to floor, as Marjorie made notes and sketches. An hour later they were back at the front door, with faint light streaming in from the large salon on the main floor toward the hallway. There was no longer a gloomy feeling or an aura of mystery to it. It was just an extremely beautiful house that had been long unloved and abandoned. For the right person, with enough money to bring it back to life, and a sensible use for it, it would be an extraordinary project to give this house back its life, and restore it to its rightful place as an important piece of history for the city.

They stepped outside into the November sunshine. Sarah locked the door carefully. They had made a quick tour of the basement and seen the ancient kitchen there, which was a relic from another century, the enormous servants' dining room, the butler and housekeeper's apartments, and twenty more maids' rooms, as well as the boiler, the wine cellars, the meat locker, the ice room, and a room for arranging flowers, with all the florist's tools still in it.

“Wow!” Marjorie said to Sarah as they stood looking at each other on the front steps. “I don't even know what to tell you about what I think of it. I've never seen anything like it, except in Europe, or Newport. Even the Vanderbilts' house isn't as beautiful as this. I hope we find the right buyer. It should be brought back to life and treated as a restoration project. I almost wish someone would turn it into a museum, but it would be even more wonderful if someone actually lived in it who loved it.” She had been shocked to discover that Stanley had lived upstairs all his life, in the attic, and realized that he must have been extremely eccentric. Sarah had just said quietly that he was unpretentious and very simple. Marjorie ventured no further comment, as she could see that the young attorney had been very fond of her ancient client, and spoke of him with awe.

“Do you want to talk about it now?” Sarah asked. It was noon, and she didn't want to go back to the office yet. She wanted to absorb what she'd seen of the house.

“I'd love to. I need to think about it though. Do you want to get a cup of coffee?” Sarah nodded, and Marjorie followed her in her own car to Starbucks. They took a quiet corner table, bought cappuccinos, and Marjorie glanced at her notes. Not only was the house itself remarkable, but it was on a huge lot, in a prime location, with an extraordinary garden, although nothing had been planted there in years. But there again, in the hands of the right person, both the house and garden could be a dream.

“What do you think the house is worth? Unofficially, obviously. I won't hold you to it.” She knew Marjorie had to make calculations and take official measurements. This had just been a reconnaissance mission, for them both. But they both felt as though they had found one of the greatest treasure troves ever seen.

“Lord, Sarah, I don't know,” the older woman said honestly. “Any house you look at, big or small, is only worth what someone is willing to pay for it. It's an imperfect science at best. And the bigger the house and the more unusual, the harder to predict.” She smiled then, and took a sip of her cappuccino. She needed it. It had been an incredible morning, for them both. Sarah was dying to tell Phil. “There sure are no comparables on this,” Marjorie continued with a grin. “How do you assess a house like that? There's absolutely nothing like it, except maybe the Frick in New York. But this isn't New York, it's San Francisco. Most people will be scared to death of a house this size. It will cost a fortune to restore and furnish it, and it would take an army of people to run it. No one lives like that anymore. The neighborhood isn't zoned for a hotel, or a bed-and-breakfast. No one will buy it as a school. Consulates are closing their residences, and renting apartments for their staff. This is going to take a very special buyer. Whatever price we put on it will be an arbitrary number. Sellers and brokers always talk about offshore buyers, an important Arab, or maybe Hong Kong Chinese, maybe a Russian. The reality is that someone local will probably buy it. Maybe someone from the high-tech world in Silicon Valley, but they have to want a house like this and understand what they're getting. …I don't know…. Five million? Ten? Twenty? But if no one wants to deal with something like this, the heirs may be lucky to get three, or even two. It could sit here, unsold, for years. It's impossible to predict. How anxious are they to sell it? They may want to price it for a quick low-ball sale, and get rid of it as is. I just hope the right person buys it. I fell in love with it,” she said honestly as Sarah nodded. So had she.