Page 5 of Passion and Privilege

Bennet studied my face, perhaps searching for any signs I had truly lost my marbles. The memories of this place were special. I felt a deep connection to Gloriana Manor. I wasn’t going to let it fall apart any further than it already had.

Regina, my ex-wife, had detested this place. The one time we visited after we got married, she spent the hour complaining and gagging over the original mahogany details and vintage tiles. For her, Sleepy Hollow and its historical charm were inconceivable. She yearned for the stark contrast of white walls and gold fixtures in the city. She wanted a doorman and modern conveniences that weren’t found in Sleepy Hollow. So, we lived in the city.

But now, I found myself single and Regina’s wants didn’t mean shit to me. My career had reached a point where my physical presence at the company’s headquarters was no longer a necessity. For a long time, I envisioned a life with Regina and her daughter, my stepdaughter, Paisley, living here. I wanted Paisley to get to grow up in the mansion. I had dreamed about spending time in the backyard on a lazy Sundy with me grilling steaks. Maybe she would even have a dog. Those dreams were shattered when Regina balked at the idea of living in an old mansion in a small town. She needed the penthouse high above Manhattan. She needed to lord over her subjects from her spot in the ivory tower she seemed to think she lived in.

“I want to check out the master bedroom,” I said.

“Are you sure?” he asked. “I really don’t know how safe it is to be walking around. These floorboards might give way at any minute.”

“It’s solid,” I told him. I stomped my foot to prove my point. “It’s ugly, but it’s not crumbling.”

Bennet hesitated for a moment before nodding and following me past the grand staircase to the west wing. The wood creaked slightly under our weight, but it held strong. As we reached the landing, I pushed open the double doors leading into what used to be my parents’ bedroom.

The room was in a state of disarray, the once elegant furnishings covered in sheets, and the windows obscured by heavy drapes. Rays of sunlight filtered through the gaps, casting a soft glow on the worn rug in front of the stone fireplace. It felt bittersweet to be back in this room.

I stared at the chipped porcelain sink and the cracked tiles, imagining how this room could be transformed. A deep sense of determination rose within me, fueled by the memories of my parents and their love for this house. They had put so much of themselves into making Gloriana Manor a home, and it was my duty to honor their legacy by restoring it to its former glory.

“Bennet,” I said, turning to my assistant. “We have our work cut out for us, but I believe in this place. I believe in its history and its potential. We are going to bring it back to life, one room at a time.”

Bennet looked at me, his eyes reflecting a mix of doubt and determination. “It’s going to be a long and challenging journey, Timothy.”

“I like a challenge.”

We made our way back downstairs to the grand foyer. The chandelier that hung over the space was old and wasn’t working, but I hoped it could be fixed. It was the first thing anyone saw when they walked through the front doors. It needed to be grand.

I looked around, appreciating that the basic footprint of the house was still the same. Unlike today’s modern world with open floorplans, the mansion still had lots of walls dividing the spaces. It was nothing like the penthouse I lived in with my ex.

That was just an added bonus.

“Do you have the bids from the contractors?” I asked Bennet.

The look on his face told me I wasn’t going to like what I saw. “I do,” he said as he handed me the files.

I flipped through the details. Disappointment gnawed at me as I scanned the bids. The price tags meant little. It was the contractors themselves who fell short. “I was hoping for better,” I muttered.

“I think you’re going to have a hard time finding contractors that want to take on a project of this magnitude,” he said. “This isn’t a typical job.”

“So?” I said, shrugging. “It’s a job. People want to make money. Judging by the dollar amounts on these bids, I would say that they are very interested in making a lot of money.”

The three bids before me lacked the craftsmanship and passion required to resurrect a place like Gloriana Manor. The contractors seemed more concerned with profit margins than with restoring the soul of this historic abode. I frowned, my vision of bringing this house back to life colliding with the harsh reality of the bids before me. All three bids were cookie-cutter versions of one another. Sheetrock, granite countertops, and the typical knockdown of walls to create an open floorplan.

“Excuse me,” a couple of women said.

They were the cleaning crew. Before I could get into the renovation, I needed to clear out the dust and see what exactly we were working with.

“None of these contractors are fit for the task,” I muttered, frustration evident in my tone.

Bennet nodded in agreement. “We can seek out more, Timothy. Find someone who truly understands the significance of this place. The bidding is still open. I’m just giving you the ones that I’ve received.”

I sighed, my gaze sweeping through the desolate rooms. “We need someone who can breathe life back into these walls, not just apply a fresh coat of paint. I don’t want this place to look like every other mansion. I want it to look like a home built in the eighteen-hundreds. I want it to look like we’ve stepped back in time with today’s safety standards.”

We made our way through the foyer toward the back of the house. The landscapers I had hired were diligently working to reclaim the outdoor areas from nature’s grasp. The overgrown foliage and neglected pathways were slowly being brought back to order. The rose garden looked like an out of control rose forest. The beautiful shrubbery and flowerbeds that had once been my mother’s pride and joy had been devoured by invasive weeds. The fountain that had once stood as a focal point of the extensive grounds was dead. The water had been drained long ago. The cement was cracked beyond repair. It needed to be replaced.

I observed their progress, a flicker of hope kindling within me. The exterior held as much potential for restoration as the interior. Gloriana Manor, in its entirety, deserved a second chance. I turned to look back at the massive stone home built nearly a hundred and fifty years ago. The tower with its bay windows was one of my favorite parts of the mansion. It was where my mother’s sitting room was. The full sun always made the room feel so inviting. She loved being in there, reading, relaxing, or playing games on her tablet.

“We’ll find the right team, Timothy,” Bennet reassured me, his confidence unwavering.

I nodded, the determination to resurrect this forgotten gem burning brighter than ever. Gloriana Manor had weathered storms, both literal and metaphorical, and it was time to breathe new life into its weary bones.