For the first time, she got a good look around, taking in the dark floors that she certainly wouldn’t replace, but might have stripped and re-stained. A heavy brass chandelier that looked like it had been installed when the house was built forty years ago hung from the ceiling, barely casting enough light to make up for heavy gold drapes that covered arched windows in the formal living room.
Yes, it was wretchedly dated. But there was so much potential here—the kind of high-quality woodwork that could be refinished, the detailed moldings that could be modernized without losing their charm.
“Your home is beautiful,” Vivien said sincerely, pausing to admire the dark wood trim up the sides of the stairs as Fiona gestured her toward the back.
“It will be, but now? I can’t bear to look around. But getting into Indian Bayou was all that mattered to me. Location is everything, you know, and this one is top notch.”
Vivien followed her into a formal dining room, where a massive rosewood dining table dominated the space.
“I bought it furnished,” she said, sounding apologetic as she touched the table. “I haven’t had a chance to get rid of this.”
“I’m not sure I would,” Vivien said. “It’s an antique and probably the site of many family dinners. We could refinish it and let it star again.”
She grunted. “It’s firewood to me, but maybe we’ll donate it. Sit down.”
Vivien almost bristled at the order, and Fiona glanced at her. “You can’t ruin the brocade even if you’re wet,” she said, misinterpreting her reaction. “The chairs are going, too. Everything is.”
“Well, that’s why I’m here,” she said. “We can modernize this home, but maintain the illusion of history and what I’m sure is an amazing legacy.”
“Legacy?” Fiona scoffed as she sat at the head of the table. “I have no idea what thelegacyof this house is, and I don’t care. I know what it’s going to look like, and I need you to make that happen.”
Okay. Some clients had a distinct vision, but they were usually open to some input. Otherwise, Vivien was a hired gun with no creative input. But this was a test, and a lot of other business was on the line, so she just nodded.
“So, I’ve created a few different vision boards,” Vivien began, reaching for her laptop and praying that only the case was wet. “Think of them as idea hubs that create an overall aesthetic. I’d like to know what colors, textures, and styles you respond to, first, then I’ll?—”
“Oh, no, that won’t be necessary,” Fiona interrupted, pulling an iPad from a bag on the floor. “I already know exactly what I respond to. I know how the house will look when I’m finished.”
Vivien lifted a brow. “Terrific. Tell me?—”
“I want everything gone, totally stripped down to the bones, or at least the drywall. All the ghastly wood torn out, all the curves and gaudiness gone. I want sleek, modern, contemporary, organic.” She tapped the iPad’s screen and handed it to Vivien. “I have a vision board of my own, actually.”
Vivien blinked, a little taken aback but quickly recovering. “Oh, well, great! I want you to love the house, so whatever look you’re going for, I’ll make it happen.”
But as she scrolled through Fiona’s Pinterest board, Vivien’s enthusiasm for the job took a nosedive.
Every image was stark and colorless—white walls, black accents, and cold, sleek lines. It was modern, yes, but also sterile. Appropriate for an ultra-contemporary California hillside home, but an upscale golf community in Destin in a structure that had nooks, crannies, and atmosphere galore?
There was no warmth, no personality, no nod to the character of the house itself. Vivien couldn’t help but think it resembled a high-end hospital rather than a home.
“Okay, so you’re definitely wanting a very modern look.”
“Yes, I just said that,” Fiona replied, her tone clipped. “I would love it if you’d do those concrete floors that are all the rage, too.”
Concrete floors in Florida?Vivien had to swallow her whimper of sadness.
“All right. Just from looking around, your house has such beautiful detailing. I think you could find a way to get the clean, contemporary vibe you want but preserve the?—”
“Preserve nothing,” Fiona said, cutting her off. “I want it all gone. See these white walls?” She gestured toward an inspiration photo. “That’s what I want. Clean and spotless, nothing elaborate, fussy, or embellished. Am I clear?”
Crystal.
Vivien glanced toward the kitchen, which she could see from her seat. It did need an update, but there was so much richness and charm in the cabinetry.
“What do you think about refinishing the cabinets to a much lighter, organic wood, adding black finishings and white countertops? It could still be very contemporary but?—”
“Are you not hearing me?” Fiona snapped, her voice sharp. “No wood. None. I want it all gone and replaced with sleek, white, clean lines. I like those shiny white European cabinets with no handles. Are you familiar with them?”
In this house? It was so wrong she wanted to cry.
