the direction of the master bedroom suite.
Promising herself that she would not swear, not even under her breath, Zoe continued down the hall to her library.
Lindsey was wrong, she thought. The deep red squares of thefloor-to-ceiling shelves would act as punchy frames for the books and objets dâart displayed against the blue-trimmed ocher walls. They would also accent the terra-cotta tiles and the colorful rugs.
She told herself that Lindsey was also mistaken when she said that the colors in the library were too hot for a desert climate. The hues did not look warm; on the contrary, they made a cool contrast to the heat. The long-standing success of the Spanish Colonial and Mediterranean styles was proof that rich jewel-toned colors worked in a bright environment. They provided the illusion of shade and helped cut the glare of an intense sun.
In her opinion, white was the wrong choice for the desert, Zoe thought as she rounded the corner into her library. Especially when it was used as starkly and extensively as Lindsey had used it in that bedroom upstairs. The last thing you wanted to do in this brightly lit landscape was reflect the light. White could easily act like a mirror when it came to glare.
There were exceptions to every rule, of course. Arcadia could get away with white in her apartment because Arcadia was Arcadia. Pales suited her personality and created the right kind of energy in her living space. But the energy flow upstairs in Lindseyâs bedroom was going to be less than optimal, Zoe concluded.
She stopped on the threshold and surveyed her library. She had designed it with a family in mind. She was not sure why, but for some reason sheâd had a picture of a mom and a dad and two little kids in her head from the very start of the project. Both children had Ethanâs dark hair and amber eyes.
She had told herself that it was just a useful mental imageconstructed by her imagination to help her give the space a focus. She was accustomed to working with the needs of an actual client, but in this instance there wasnât a real homeowner with unique requirements and a personality. So she had invented her little family and tried not to think too much about why the kids looked a lot like Ethan.
She was pleased with the way the room had turned out. It was comfortable and inviting. There was something interesting or intriguing going on in every corner.
She walked slowly through the space, opening her senses to the energy flows, making certain that things felt right. It was an old-fashioned space in many ways, imbued with the atmosphere of an early-nineteenth-century library. There was no big-screen television or state-of-the-art sound system. Fortunately, another designer had been assigned the media room down the hall.
This was a room designed for contemplation, study and personal time. She wanted this space to be a refuge for every member of the household, a place where dreams could take shape.
She paused beside the miniature chairs and table she had arranged for the imaginary children and adjusted the position of the globe. Then she crossed to the large writing desk and stood behind it, making certain that whoever sat there would have a view of the fountain in the garden outside.
She liked to incorporate water or a view of it into her rooms. It provided its own special kind of energy. So did plants, which was why she had placed a large cluster of them on the other side of this space. They not only purified the air in a room, they cleansed the energy that flowed through it.
She tweaked the frame of the picture over the fireplace. It was a photograph of Nightwinds Canyon at dawn. She had taken it herself late last month. Ethan had risen with her every morning in the dark for four days in a row to keep her company at the edge of the canyon while she went through roll after roll of film, waiting for the one right shot.
Turning away from the photo, she moved toward the first of the two adult
Promising herself that she would not swear, not even under her breath, Zoe continued down the hall to her library.
Lindsey was wrong, she thought. The deep red squares of thefloor-to-ceiling shelves would act as punchy frames for the books and objets dâart displayed against the blue-trimmed ocher walls. They would also accent the terra-cotta tiles and the colorful rugs.
She told herself that Lindsey was also mistaken when she said that the colors in the library were too hot for a desert climate. The hues did not look warm; on the contrary, they made a cool contrast to the heat. The long-standing success of the Spanish Colonial and Mediterranean styles was proof that rich jewel-toned colors worked in a bright environment. They provided the illusion of shade and helped cut the glare of an intense sun.
In her opinion, white was the wrong choice for the desert, Zoe thought as she rounded the corner into her library. Especially when it was used as starkly and extensively as Lindsey had used it in that bedroom upstairs. The last thing you wanted to do in this brightly lit landscape was reflect the light. White could easily act like a mirror when it came to glare.
There were exceptions to every rule, of course. Arcadia could get away with white in her apartment because Arcadia was Arcadia. Pales suited her personality and created the right kind of energy in her living space. But the energy flow upstairs in Lindseyâs bedroom was going to be less than optimal, Zoe concluded.
She stopped on the threshold and surveyed her library. She had designed it with a family in mind. She was not sure why, but for some reason sheâd had a picture of a mom and a dad and two little kids in her head from the very start of the project. Both children had Ethanâs dark hair and amber eyes.
She had told herself that it was just a useful mental imageconstructed by her imagination to help her give the space a focus. She was accustomed to working with the needs of an actual client, but in this instance there wasnât a real homeowner with unique requirements and a personality. So she had invented her little family and tried not to think too much about why the kids looked a lot like Ethan.
She was pleased with the way the room had turned out. It was comfortable and inviting. There was something interesting or intriguing going on in every corner.
She walked slowly through the space, opening her senses to the energy flows, making certain that things felt right. It was an old-fashioned space in many ways, imbued with the atmosphere of an early-nineteenth-century library. There was no big-screen television or state-of-the-art sound system. Fortunately, another designer had been assigned the media room down the hall.
This was a room designed for contemplation, study and personal time. She wanted this space to be a refuge for every member of the household, a place where dreams could take shape.
She paused beside the miniature chairs and table she had arranged for the imaginary children and adjusted the position of the globe. Then she crossed to the large writing desk and stood behind it, making certain that whoever sat there would have a view of the fountain in the garden outside.
She liked to incorporate water or a view of it into her rooms. It provided its own special kind of energy. So did plants, which was why she had placed a large cluster of them on the other side of this space. They not only purified the air in a room, they cleansed the energy that flowed through it.
She tweaked the frame of the picture over the fireplace. It was a photograph of Nightwinds Canyon at dawn. She had taken it herself late last month. Ethan had risen with her every morning in the dark for four days in a row to keep her company at the edge of the canyon while she went through roll after roll of film, waiting for the one right shot.
Turning away from the photo, she moved toward the first of the two adult
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