Julia
The library that Van had offered as my home base, office, work center or whatever I wanted to call it was as stunning as the rest of his house. It was also cozier. I realized that there was beauty to the open concept, but four walls, two lined from floor to ceiling with books on beautiful wood bookcases, another with large domed windows looking out onto tall trees in a forest, and a fourth with the French door entry—not unlike the one at the front of the house—and another fireplace made me feel less exposed. The furniture was rich and sturdy. The desk was tall and wide, reminding me of the antique library tables.
I had barely dived into the information Van had accumulated as I got myself settled. He had plastic totes filled with physical information, magazines, newspapers, and pho
