The House of Seven Mabels

Inside, there was a disgusting pair of toilets without a barrier between them, one chipped and filthy sink, and an equally revolting shower that was almost entirely black with mildew.
    Jane looked at Bitsy. “This really should have been torn down. There’s no way you can restore this house. Frankly, I’m surprised it wasn’t condemned as unfit for human habitation and demolished. It isn’t even structurally sound, I’d guess.“
    This didn’t faze Bitsy. “Come on down the stairs and go back up the other side where the work is under way.“
    Feeling enormously depressed by the sight of a dilapidated house that must have been grand in its heyday, Jane dragged herself along behind Bitsy. Shelley followed, just as disappointed.
    As they reached the head of the stairway to the left side of the entryway, they could immediately see the difference. It was a huge area. All the room partitions had been removed. The vinyl flooring had been ripped up. If there had been carpet here, it had also been taken up. Good hardwood floors were still scarred with nail holes.
    There were windows all around the perimeter letting sunshine in. Most of the framing had been done. Piles of Sheetrock were stacked in the far corner, ready to be put up. Some of it had already been installed.
    Two women were running some lumber through a planer. Bright shiny aluminum duct work for heating and cooling was all in place and glittered in the sun. Thick bunches of electrical wires covered with white coating snaked to the spots where there would be overhead lights and sockets galore.
    “This must have been twice the size of the other half,“ Jane said, shouting over the noise.
    “Nope,“ Bitsy yelled back. “Exactly the same. Isn’t it astonishing how large it is when it’s opened up? The part at the far end is the master bedroom. His and her bathrooms on either side. The front one will have a hot tub and big overhead windows. The area at this end will be divided by a low partition of bookshelves into a living room on the farther side and a small utility kitchen and bar where we’re standing. There will be two small bedrooms nearer the stairs for people who bring along assistants or an au pair.“
    “Will the other side of the house be the same, but backwards?“ Shelley asked.
    Bitsy nodded.
    “Do you want them to have the same decor?“
    “Oh, no,“ Bitsy replied. “Some visitors may stay two or three times. I’d like the two suites to be quite different in style.“
    “What styles?“ Shelley asked.
    “Well, that will be partly up to you two. But I picture this one sort of Old Englishy. Big deep claw-footed bathtub, heavily canopied bed with lots of pillows with shams. Floral drapes. Deep, lush carpeting with a subtle pattern. Not too feminine, though. Antique furnishings.“
    Shelley nodded knowingly. “And the other?“
    “I’ve been thinking of something just a hint retro, do you see? Those big white tiles with the little black ones in the corners in the bathrooms. Curved dividers. A classy 1930s sparse but expensive look. Sort of like those Poirot mysteries on television.“
    “That’s a look that’s popular right now,“ Shelley said, “but I don’t think it’s going to last much longer. I think you’d make a better investment if you went with something less trendy. So many offices these days are done in that sparse, sterile look. People who work in them don’t want to live in them, too. Especially not when they’re traveling.“
    Bitsy was nodding enthusiastically. “I knew I’d picked just the right people!“
    Jane had to turn away and pretend to examine the piles of Sheetrock to conceal her laughter. Shelley was talking off the top of her head—quite impressively, to be sure—but without any experience in sparse decor. Except the time they saw a house decorated that way and Shelley expressed her hatred of the style.
    She was still trying not to laugh when Shelley said, “Jane, we must get on with our measurements.“
    “There’s really no need—“ Bitsy began.
    Shelley quelled Bitsy with The Look.
    The sound of the planer stopped with a gentle moan and Bitsy recovered enough to say, “Let me introduce you to Jack and Henry, our head carpenters on the project.“
    These two individuals, hearing their names, put down the wood they’d been working on and approached. The taller, burlier, and darker of them put out a sturdy hand to shake theirs and said, “Henrietta Smith at your service.“ She