and what you find aren't always the same.
― Andrew Michael Hurley
I call myself a house whisperer but that catchy term doesn’t do justice to what I do or the needs of the clients I serve.
Houses are not just architectural structures—they are homes. These lived spaces we inhabit are intimately connected with who we are and our well being. As the old saying goes—there’s more in the garden than the gardener knows.
And there’s more in a house than the homeowner knows.
Houses help civilize us and are part of the shelter of society that cocoons and keeps us safe from storms both natural and human.
But oftentimes people just see house purchases as financial transactions without realizing how intimate their ties with their house can be, especially if it has a long history.
That’s why I specialize in researching the history of a house that predates the occupant, yet directly impacts them in ways sometimes subtle, but often profound.
And yes, I use my intuition to uncover imprints of the past that go far beyond a stain on the floor or an unpleasant room where no one wants to sleep.
It may not always be possible to get hold of other times, but they can certainly impress themselves upon you.
I was eager to visit the house Gail Simpson, my colleague, suggested, but I had little desire to please a well-off client who simply wanted a coffee table book to impress her friends.
Fact was, I was more intrigued with the possibility of pleasing Gail and developing a relationship with her than placating her friend, but I was open to the possibility of being surprised.
I hadn’t yet met the friend or visited the house but I was allowing myself to be drawn by the stronger pull of what I truly loved.
But was it the lady or the house? Well, for the time being, the jury was out.
On Saturday morning, Greg and I were sipping takeout coffee parked outside the house waiting for Gail to show up.
“My God,” Greg moaned, “it looks like something out of The Addams Family or The Munsters. No doubt this house is haunted.”
“You can’t go by looks, my friend,” I chuckled, “ practically every Second Empire house is gabled, turreted or dormered—don’t be distracted by the ginger bread.”
“Wow!” He suddenly exclaimed, drawing in a sharp breath. “Don't be distracted? Take your own advice, Guy, if this is the girl we’re supposed to meet.”
I looked up to see Gail crossing the street. She looked drop-dead gorgeous in a black sweater that contrasted with her bright red hair.
“I see now why you took this assignment,” Greg chuckled, hastily wiping the coffee from his mouth with a paper napkin.
On the plus side, I had the answer to the riddle what was the stronger draw— the lady or the house? In this instance, the house lost.
Gail spotted me and gave me a sunny smile that seemed to light up the entire street.
“You could save on electric lighting with that girl in your house,” Greg deadpanned.
I had to agree. Everything faded to dark gothic compared to the girl walking toward us.