common sense had returned enough for her to comment. “But this kitchen looks completely modern.”
“It’s new,” Charlotte said. “The front part of the house was built in the 1950s. Michelle had it renovated a couple of times, including a recent update of the kitchen. It’s basically a two-story with five bedrooms upstairs.”
“Michelle didn’t move out here until the sixties,” Gabby said, recalling a bit of family history. “Who owned the Roost before that?”
“I think the property has always belonged to the Rousseau family, but it was vacant for a long time and fell into disrepair.”
“Why did they move back?”
Zach explained, “After World War II, Aspen began to develop a world-wide reputation as a ski resort, and the property values skyrocketed. The Roost is especially attractive because you’ve got a good well and your family owns the water rights. One of your relatives sensed a good deal and hired a contractor to build the two-story. I think the first plan was to sell, but they moved back in.”
He pushed the door from the kitchen open. “This center area isn’t the oldest part of the house. It was added on when the family got bigger. At one time, this area was a kitchen, living room and bedrooms. Michelle had it gutted, leaving only the essential support beams and outer walls. She turned it into a studio.”
She followed him onto a small landing and down three stairs to Michelle’s art studio—an open space that was nearly as wide as the two-story house it was attached to. If it was possible to fall in love with a room, Gabby was smitten. The ceiling peaked in the center. There were so many skylights and windows that it was unnecessary to turn on the overhead lights. In one corner was a potter’s wheel. One entire wall was waist-high storage cabinets. A double-wide garage door had been installed, probably to allow large projects to be easily moved in and out.
Nearest the house were the remnants of a former kitchen—a fridge, double sink and plenty of counter space. Though the art supplies had been cleaned up and put away, paint spatters outlined the work areas.
Two freestanding gas fireplaces provided heat, but neither was turned on, leaving a chill in the air and a sense of vacancy. Gabby felt a pang of regret that she’d never really known her great-aunt. This had been the place where Michelle did her creative work. Now the easel in the center of the room stood empty.
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