Perlman House

Chapter 1

Inheritance

            Constance looked up at the house, her house. She just stood in the driveway next to her car and stared at the house. This house, her house, the last place her father had been before he ran off and left Constance with no contact. The last time she saw her father was at this house. She barely remembered her father, she had been so young, barely five years old, but she knew the house. Everyone knew the house; it was said her father was still in the house but no one had been able to find him, and many had looked. Last week her father had been declared dead, after being missing for fifteen years, and Constance inherited the house. The house her father had bought for her.

            It seemed like just yesterday her father had brought her to this house. He had just purchased it and was so proud. So proud to own a house and have a permanent place for Constance to visit. Since the divorce he had been trying to find a way for her to visit him more often and he bought this house for the two of them. “It will be grand Connie. A house just for us, a nice old, big house we can fix up and think about the people who lived here over the years,” he had told her. He was the only one who ever called her Connie, her mother insisted she be called Constance. “You can fix up any bedroom you like just the way you want it,” he continued, “and then you will have a place here whenever you want. A place that is all yours.” He had disappeared before she had a chance to choose a bedroom, but now all the bedrooms were hers and she would fix them all up.

            Constance walked up to the house, all the while thinking of the events of the past week. Her father’s death declaration had changed her life. She no longer would be looking for him to show up and, most important, she owned a house now. No more living with her mother, moving from place to place whenever the whim to move hit her mother. Constance now owned a house, a house she would make into a home. Maybe one day she would even get married and have children. This was a big house; it could hold a handful of children. “Slow down, girl,” she told herself, “one step at a time. Just look over the house.” As she climbed the steps to the porch she thought, “Thank you Daddy, I know I am going to love it.”  She felt a momentary surge of thankfulness to her grandmother, her father’s mother, for not selling the house and keeping it for her. When her grandmother died last year everything she had went to Constance and it was then Constance found out her grandmother had kept the house waiting for her father to return. The lawyer recommended having her father declared dead, it had been fifteen years, so she could take ownership. Now, Constance had a house and a small inheritance to help her move into the house and live until she could find some type of employment, hopefully in the nearby town. 

            The house towered over her. It was two stories tall with a small attic at the top, guessing by the window up there. The house looked lopsided, there were two large windows on the left side of the second floor like eyes looking down with the small attic window above, like the third eye out of a mythical tale and that bay window the open mouth yelling at her to go away. The right side of the house had one bay window on the first floor and no windows the rest of the way up. The only windows at the front of the house on the second floor were those two windows staring at her. Constance shivered, feeling like the house was watching her with its three eyes. Watching to see what she would do next. Constance was not sure what to do next, the choice was hers. “Stop scaring yourself,” she took herself firmly in hand, “it is just a house, and you own it. It is yours so go inside and look around.” Taking a hold of herself, she reached for the doorknob in front of her, prepared to go into her house.

            The doorknob was cold. She could feel the coolness of the metal against her hand as if the house was telling her not to enter. She knew what she had to do, she twisted that knob, pushed open that door and stepped into the entryway. Was it cold in the house or was it the chill of the doorknob that made her shudder? She did not know but she was in the house now and determined to claim it as her own. Despite what the house thought Constance owned this house! “What a strange idea,” Constance thought, “the house is not alive, it is a building made of wood and brick.” The house cannot think and it is certainly not alive, get yourself together and stop listening to crazy thoughts!

Constance looked around the entry and decided it was not too bad. Yes, there was some paint peeling and the stair bannister looked like it could use some repair work but overall, the entry was a nice size and could be made very inviting. Maybe a new coat of paint to brighten it up and perhaps a door with a window in it to bring in some light. Constance was already thinking of how to redecorate, and she had barely entered the house. She would make this house her own and start a grand life right here in this house. This would be the haven her father had wanted her to have. If only he were here to share it. Suddenly she felt a surge of sadness at the thought of her father long gone, probably dead, and never enjoying the house he bought for the two of them to share. “I will make it everything you wanted it to be daddy,” she thought to herself.

Constance continued moving forward into the house, a turn to the left and she saw a large room. It looked like it would make an excellent living room. There was a bay window, “that yelling mouth,” thought Constance, looking out over the valley and noticing that was the only window in the room. There were hardwood floors. “Those look original,” she thought to herself, “a little sanding down and some varnish and they will be as good as the day they were laid.” She started mentally placing furniture and her knick knacks. She could almost see herself sitting in this room on winter evenings reading a good book and having a cup of tea. “You are getting carried away girl,” she said to herself, “I do not even think I like tea.” Whether she drank tea or not this room would become her living room, the room in which she would welcome visitors. She was not sure who those visitors would be, she really did not know a lot of people, but in her dream she was welcoming visitors and the room was full of people talking and enjoying themselves. 

It was then that Constance noticed the walls. The walls of her living room had the ugliest wallpaper on them Constance had ever seen. It made the room look dark, especially since there were no windows on that long wall, just the ugly wallpaper. At first she thought it was striped, who puts striped paper in a living room, but the closer she got to it she saw the stripes were actually rows of what looked like tiny yellow flowers against a black background. Maybe this was the fashion when the house was built. “That wallpaper has to go,” she made a mental note, then wondered how hard it would be to take the wallpaper off, and maybe add a window or two. Well, she would figure that out later. She had more of her house to look over. She found herself walking to the back of her living room where a beautiful, and big, double door was located. This must be the dining room she thought as she opened the doors.

As she pushed open the double doors, they actually slid open rather like barn doors, splitting them in the middle. “What a way to make an entrance,” she thought as she stepped through the doors into the next room. This had to be the dining room. There were two windows on each of the outside walls, with one set looking over a small porch. Those strange windows like she saw on the second floor when she first walked up to the house. The windows that felt like they were looking into her. For the second time Constance said to herself, “Pull yourself together, it is just a house and it is yours. You have a right to be here.” Somehow she was beginning to feel like she was intruding on the house. She looked over the dining room and was satisfied with it. This room would not take much work. Those windows needed to be cleaned, and she did hate to clean windows, but a few coats of paint and maybe a throw rug on that wood floor and the room could be brightened up. Constance stopped to look at the walls and she had to ask herself, “Who decorated this place? Surely, ugly was not in style when the house was built.” The walls were a green color, not really light, not really dark, just green. Not even a pretty green, just green. Constance was thinking a nice light blue would brighten the room and make it a lovely place to eat. If she had many friends over the doors could be opened and a large entertaining space created. “You have not even moved in yet, or met anyone and you are throwing dinner parties. Slow down girl,” Constance had to continually remind herself. This house carried so many dreams for her, Constance could barely contain herself.

There was another door from the dining room and going through it Constance found herself in a large kitchen with a fireplace along one wall and a doorway to the entry. “The family that built this house must have cooked in that fireplace,” she thought to herself. She felt like she could walk right into that fireplace and not even bend over. It was strange as time went on that nobody used that wall for other things and took out such a large fireplace. Constance had no idea what she would do with such a thing. Perhaps it could be taken out, another thing to look into. The rest of the kitchen seemed pretty much what she expected. There was a stove, sink, refrigerator and, if she was not mistaken, even a dishwasher next to the sink. There were no windows in the kitchen, nothing to look through her, or to bring in light. “At least there is one normal room in the house,” she thought and then wondered why she thought that. The kitchen was truly the heart of the house with the rest of the downstairs built around the kitchen, that explained why there were no windows. The cabinets looked good, though they were a pale yellow, kind of a sick yellow. Even the appliances were yellow. It gave the room a sick look, like a sick child. For a moment, standing in the kitchen, Constance began to feel claustrophobic. This was such a sickly looking room. The room felt like it was closing in on her. Once again, Constance took herself in hand, “Stop it! It is just a house, how can a house close in on you.”

There were three additional doorways from the kitchen. The door on the back wall opened into a large pantry. Larger than any Constance had ever seen. This room did not have any windows, just one lone hanging light bulb, and painted the same sickly yellow as the kitchen. This room would definitely need work: new paint, new lighting, maybe even new shelving. The redecorating bill was definitely adding up but things could be done slowly, well maybe some rooms not slowly. This kitchen would be high on the list of redecorating. Constance was not cooking for her guests in a sickly looking room. Retracing her steps through the kitchen Constance found a door that led to a nice back porch. This door did not have a window either and Constance wondered again why the outside doors were so dark, heavy and missing a window. It would have been the perfect way to let light in the dark room. Another door to replace, she would need to start writing down the changes she would need to make. She then turned to the door near the back door.

She found herself in a large bedroom with what looked like an attached bathroom. If the number of closed doors was any indication the bedroom had two closets as well as the bathroom. This room had two windows on the side wall, the windows seemed to always be in twos, like eyes staring at her. Constance felt like the windows were looking through her again. She would have to get plenty of curtains to cover those windows, or maybe she could replace them with something different, at least a different type of window. The bathroom looked standard and Constance was happy it did not look like it needed any work, except maybe a new door. For some reason this bathroom had a door with a window on it, although there were no windows to the outside, strange that the door with a window in it was at the bathroom and not the outside doors but Constance would fix that with new doors. The bathroom was also missing a mirror. There was no mirror over the sink or anywhere in the bathroom. “That will have to be fixed,” thought Constance, “I need a mirror in the morning.” Then Constance reminded herself, “There is an awful lot to do here. You better check your bank account girl, you have to live and you did not inherit enough to remodel an entire house.” She would definitely have to redecorate and remodel in pieces. Later, she would make a list and decide what to do first and what could wait. For now, she would continue the tour.

The next door she opened revealed a large closet, big enough for Constance to walk in and likely get dressed in. This was going to be grand. Constance could just see herself standing in this closet choosing what to wear to her first dinner party. The next door, across the room, was a smaller closet and smelled musty, like it had never been used. The walls were not even painted, just raw lumber which showed the age of the house, there was no indication of the age of the house in any of the paperwork Constance received, but this seemed to indicate that the house was older than she thought. Constance did not even go into the closet, just looked at it and closed the door. “This closet must be against the pantry. I wonder what it would take to open this up to the pantry. Maybe open the pantry to the kitchen and make a larger kitchen,” then Constance remembered the other things that needed done and reminded herself that would be many years down the road.

Strange, why have two closets and only use one Constance could not stop herself from thinking. She was beginning to think there was something about this house she should know but she could not quite grasp what it was. Maybe it would come to her as she was looking over the rest of the house. Just like the other rooms the bedroom walls were a depressing color, there seemed to be no light or bright colors in this house. That would have to be the first thing to change. Constance started thinking of all the bright colors she could bring into this house to brighten it up and make it a happy place. “The house is depressed, that is what is wrong with it,” Constance thought and then wondered where that thought came from. How could a house be depressed? Constance wished she could grasp the thought that was hanging on the edge of her mind, something about the house, something she knew she needed to know.

The first floor was completed with an office to the right when coming in the front door. This room had only one door, the one off of the entryway. The backside of the kitchen fireplace made one half wall of the room and a bay window directly opposite that, at the front of the house, brought in the only natural light. This room was also a depressing color, was there no end to the depressing colors the decorators had apparently found. The big rock wall that was the back of the fireplace overpowered the room and made it seem smaller than it was. Again, Constance wondered why no one over the years had not covered that up or removed it. She had no idea how she would decorate around that rock wall, but she would work that out later. For now she was ready to head upstairs, or at least she thought she was. If she were honest with herself she really wanted to run out the front door and never return but that made no sense. This was her house now and she would take charge.

She stood at the bottom of the stairs and looked up. The stairs looked like they were in good shape although the railing needed some work. There were gaps that would have to be fixed. Constance thought she would have to replace the railing entirely but that would be okay. Maybe she could get something more modern, the house was so depressing that putting in some modern touches might help, could not hurt. Modern touches and some bright colors would definitely help the house.

“Time to head upstairs,” Constance told herself, feeling nervous for some reason but knowing she had to do it. She  started up the stairs very carefully, “In case any are broken,” she told herself. The truth was she was nervous and unsure about going upstairs although she did not know why. There was just something about this house Constance could  not quite figure out. It was like the house was trying to tell her something, or someone was trying to tell her something about the house.  It made no sense and Constance continued going upstairs telling herself she would think about it later.

The upstairs had three bedrooms and a bathroom. She found herself standing on a small landing. This would be a great place for a small desk and maybe a big comfy reading chair, Constance thought, if only there were some light.  Again, she wondered why the builders of the house had not put in more windows. A big window on that back wall would be lovely and create a bright space for reading or writing. Maybe a nice stained glass window that colored the light. That would really brighten up the upstairs hallway with all of the colors of the rainbow. That would have to come later, so much more needed doing before that, but eventually there would be a little reading and writing nook right here at the top of the stairs. Constance smiled at the thought of sitting there reading in that little space.

She turned to the right and there was a door. Constance opened it and saw a large bedroom. This one was painted a dull brown color with faded brown carpet. The back wall had two large windows, again with the even number of windows, that seemed to look through her. Across from the windows was a large closet that ran the entire length of the wall. The side wall did not have any windows. How strange, Constance thought, more windows would make this room really shine. Constance began to think that the first thing she should do is put in a lot more windows. Certainly this bedroom would benefit from two, no make that three, no even numbers, more windows in the room. It would make it so bright and airy and then in the Spring when the breeze was blowing there would be a nice breeze flowing through this room. Constance could almost smell the  freshness blowing into the bedroom. The first positive feeling she felt since pulling up to the house, how long ago was that, she could not even remember.

Constance stepped out into the hallway and moved to the next bedroom. This room was almost a mirror image of the one across the hall, including needing more windows and the same dull brown color. It seemed like whoever built the house had an aversion to light. Except for the dining room every room needed more windows. The first brown bedroom was bad enough but to have two in the same house. Constance was definitely going to need a lot of paint and paintbrushes. So far, every room needed to be painted before she could even begin to think of this as a real home. She wanted bright colors that made the house shine, not all these dull colors that made the house look depressed. One more bedroom to look at and then the upstairs bathroom, just maybe she would find light somewhere.

Constance walked down the hall, noticing as she did that the walls were covered in a dingy brown wallpaper that looked like it had weeds on it but was probably some kind of brown flower. Although the floors were the same hardwood she had seen downstairs and that was good. There was a lot she could do with hardwood floors. The hallway was dark, like the rest of the house, due to a lack of windows. Constance looked straight ahead at the wall and thought, “Another stained glass window here.” She thought that would really brighten up the upstairs, all those colors coming in from both ends of the hallway. She knew that would be expensive but it would be worth it. Big stained glass windows at each end of the hall would add light, color, and maybe some joy to the upstairs hallway. The hallway could certainly use it. Maybe even some bright throw rugs on the floor and some bright pictures on the walls. Constance would cheer this house up one way or another, she refused to live in a depressed house.

The final bedroom, surprise, was painted that same dull brown and had the same brown carpet. “There must have been a sale on depressing paint and carpet,” Constance laughed to herself. This room had two windows looking over the front yard. “Those two eyes I saw from the car,” thought Constance and then wished she hadn’t. She began to feel like the house was watching her, but that was ridiculous. “It is just a house,” Constance reminded herself.

Quickly she moved across to the bathroom and looked it over. The room was small and it felt wrong. Something that Constance could not put words to, just something she felt, that same feeling that there was something she should know but she could not quite grasp it. All the usual equipment, and then Constance did a double take, this room was also missing a mirror. Who builds a bathroom without mirrors. As far as she could remember, that had never been fashionable. Something was going on with the mirrors, maybe the windows also she was not sure. This bathroom was also missing windows, at least that might be understood in a bathroom, and Constance knew she would need to add windows to this room also. Maybe she could make one of these outside walls a wall of frosted glass. That would definitely add light to the room and the room desperately needed the light.

There was only one place left to explore and that was the attic. Constance wasn’t sure she had it in her to explore the attic today, but decided she might as well get it over with. Luckily there was not a basement, Constance had a fear of basements. No worry, though, this house did not have a basement. Constance began looking for the entry to the attic, it must be in one of the bedrooms. She went through all three bedrooms, including looking in the closets and could not find a way to get into the attic. She knew there was an attic, didn’t that third eye look down on her from the attic? Where could the entrance be? She checked the ceiling to see if there was any sign of an attic entrance there and did not find one. She even looked in the bathroom, but nothing there. There had to be a way into the attic, but Constance would have to find it another day. Today she was worn out from getting to know her house and wanted to go back to her hotel and take a hot shower. She wanted to wash the house off of her, to shed these feelings of doom and depression she was feeling. She also wanted to check with the local hardware store and find out how much paint cost and how much they thought she would need. She would also need to find a contractor to help her with the kitchen remodel and adding A LOT of windows to this house. She would need to get estimates on the cost and the time frame. She would also need to decide what type of windows she wanted and that glass wall in the bathroom. It was a lot and it would have to be done over time, but Constance felt sure it would help the house. “Now,” she told herself, “time to get back to the hotel.” Once she decided to leave, Constance quickly ran down the stairs and out the front door.

As soon as she was off the porch she took a deep breath and felt like she could finally relax. She had not realized she was so tense until she arrived at her car and collapsed inside it. Quickly turning it on she began to drive away. She looked back once and saw the house watching her again, those three eyes and that gaping mouth. The house seemed to be yelling at her now, but she did not know what it was saying. “Straighten up girl, you just need a shower and a good meal. Tomorrow you will laugh about this and start working on your house,” she chided herself. She knew she needed to get the house at least livable fairly quickly, she could not afford to stay in a hotel long. The hotel bill was taken from her redecorating fund and she needed every penny she had to redecorate her house. She still liked the sound of that, “her house,” even if she was not sure the house understood she was the new owner.