Page 15 of I Heart Mason Cartwright
Goddammit.
Willow wasn’t kidding when she said it was a fixer-upper. This place is a bit of a dump. But the bulk of the floor plan takes full advantage of the view of the sound. Which is incredible.
The house is laid out in sort of a long rectangle, and only two rooms and a bathroom don’t face the sound with a water view.
To one side is the master suite, which faces both the front of the house on one side, and the sound on the other. It’s a huge room. But the bathroom is small and closed in. Making me wonder if it was added at some point just as a convenience and not truly an en suite.
The other side has another four rooms with a hallway in between. Two rooms and a bath on the sound side and two rooms and a bath on the front side. The living room is open, but a couple partial walls close off the dining room and kitchen.
“These walls have got to be opened,” I mutter to myself as I turn back into the living room after the tour.
“Right?” Willow says appearing next to me. “That’s what I think too. I would love to open this entire room actually.”
I would kill for a place like this. Why have I never thought about renovating on one of the islands before? Shit, I would kill just to work on a house like this. Not that the structure itself is that fantastic, but what you could turn it into is fabulous. And it wouldn’t take much. Creating a master bathroom, combining two of the smaller guest rooms to make one larger room with an en suite and closet. Knock down some walls, add a skylight or three, redo the kitchen, and voila. You’d have yourself a straight-up masterpiece. I want to talk to her more about it. I want to know her ideas, who she’s working with, what her master plan is. I want to know everything inside that gorgeous head of hers.
“This is a disaster, Willow,” AshLynn says. “Why don’t you just hire people to do this and stay in a hotel? So you can live a normal life.”
Willow starts telling her how she’s missed the point. AshLynn argues about something else unrelated, so Willow counters with something equally unrelated. And soon it’s a cacophony of screechy female voices trying to outdo one another. I tune them out and kneel to pet P-Tink. Right now, I think she might be the only rational girl in the house.
