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“Collected by various Pooles over the years,” Trey explained. “In a lot of ways the house is a museum of your family history. Formal dining room.”
“I’ll say. Jeez.”
A dozen tall, curved-back chairs lined each side of the massive table, while two more stood at each end. Another fireplace, fire simmering. And still the room had space enough for a pair of huge buffets. Art and mirrors ranged along the walls papered with fat white geraniums over deep blue.
She imagined that the pair of candelabras serving as table centerpieces were actual silver.
“You know, I was nervous the entire drive up here. Couldn’t even eat any of the snickerdoodles my neighbor gave me for the trip.”
“You have snickerdoodles?”
“I do.” He made her laugh a little. “I’ll share as your fee for this tour. But I want to say those nerves disappeared at my first sight of the house. Now they’re back. Big-time back.”
“Not a formal-dinner-party-for-twenty kind of woman?”
“More a let’s-order-pizza sort. I don’t suppose the pizza place I saw in town delivers up here.”
“Ah…”
“I was afraid of that. It’s a beautiful room. In a terrifying way.”
He led her through another door.
“Oh. Hear my sigh of relief.”
“Family dining room and kitchen. The kitchen was put in sometime in the twenties, I think. Collin updated it. A couple of times.”
“But it still fits the house, doesn’t it? Not in-your-face modern. And a little fireplace.”
She moved past the pretty table and its sensible eight chairs into a kitchen with dark wood cabinets, some with pebbled glass fronts, against walls that reminded her of the forest shadows. The white appliances kept it from looking too sleek. He’d contrasted the dark cabinetry with cream on the island. Counters of pale gray covered it, and ran alongside a deep farm sink.
“He was a hell of a good cook.”
“Really?”
“Oh yeah. He and my mom—also a hell of a good cook—used to exchange recipes. You cook?”
“That depends on your definition ofcook.”
“Yeah.” He slipped his hands into his pockets. “I fall into that category. Fortunately, my friend’s the head chef at the Lobster Cage in the village, and I can mooch off my parents, my grandparents. Anyway, we stocked the fridge and butler’s pantry.”
“There’s a butler’s pantry.” Overwhelmed, she blew out a breath.
“With a dumbwaiter.”
“Get out!”
She turned into the ell of the main kitchen. More cabinets, another sink, a wine cooler and ice maker under the counter.
Trey opened one of the lower cabinets.
“He had it updated, but wanted to keep the original feel. It goes down to what was the original kitchen.”
He pressed a button, and the bottom lowered with a mechanical hum.
It made her laugh. “It’s my first dumbwaiter. What did he use it for?”
“He renovated some of the servants’ area.” After pressing the button to bring it back up, Trey closed the cabinets. “He made use of a lot of the space.”
