It’s No Coincidence

Hello and Welcome to the Chesterfield Estate. Thank you for stopping by. This entry marks the first in a series of notes and personal reflections, a journal if you like, that will document our family’s journey to restore and re-invent Chesterfield, one of the most special estates in New England.

Today marks the three-month anniversary of our tenure, although to fully understand the adventure that we are about to embark upon, you really need to go back a few years and digest the why’s and the wherewithal’s that have led us to this point. Like the estate itself, securing title meant following a path that took the pretty route, not the highway. The path was uneven and, in some places, missing altogether, which led to challenges and times when we considered throwing in the towel. On one such occasion, 
I almost bailed out, asking the broker to start the process for returning our deposit. Luckily, I was talked off the ledge by one of my Chesterfield teammates, Michael Davis, who encouraged me 
to stay the course, certain that this was “just a pause in the journey, not the end of the road.”

Our journey to Chesterfield began in Summer 2016, when our son left for college, and we packed up our home in Greenwich, CT, and moved to the Outer Banks. I had built a successful beach rental business there — my “ducks” (the properties were located in the town of Duck, NC) - and I was tired of putting 35,000 miles a year 
on my lovely minivan, the indomitable IMABRIT (the vanity plate Jack ordered for me when I passed my American driving test) commuting up and down the Eastern Shore to manage the business. Our older daughter was starting high school, and our younger daughter was still in elementary school, so this seemed like the perfect time to make a break for the border. I’m glad we did. Moving to North Carolina opened the door to The South and gave us a new experience outside the Tri-state that was unlike anything we’d known before.

Then Covid hit and the world stopped. This pause created an unexpected bonus of almost six months sequestered at home with the whole family. The Outer Banks bridge to the mainland was closed to all except year-round residents, so it felt like we had the whole island to ourselves. When lockdown ended, we returned to Norfolk with our younger daughter, while the older kids resumed their lives in Nevada and Pennsylvania. We realized that although we had enjoyed having a ‘full house’ again, that chapter had ended, and as much as we loved spending holidays and special occasions in the OBX, it would never be our forever home.

So, we considered different retirement locations and ended up back where we started: New England. Jack is from Boston, and he wanted to return to his home state. I’m more of a New York City girl, originally from England, and eager to be within a direct flight of Europe, and no longer reliant on a regional airport. This narrowed our target area to The Berkshires, with Great Barrington being the bullseye.

In August 2021, I commenced an online search, looking for listings that were within 120 miles of New York and Boston, had 10+ acres of land, and included a ‘fixer upper’ historic home. Aston Magna popped up, so I called the broker, Martha Piper, and set up a time to tour the property.

As an experienced real estate buyer (this was to be my 15th transaction and 7th of a historic home), I usually know within the first five minutes if a property is a yes or a no. However, on this occasion, it took a little longer for me to feel certain that this was ‘the one.’

When I pulled up to the main house, my initial reaction was muted. The building seemed small in stature and rather ordinary — dwarfed by a gnarly and very dead tree on the front terrace. It was almost as if the architect had run out of steam after designing the first floor. The structure desperately needed some exterior elevation to signify its presence, although it’s sitting on the lot was perfect and the panoramic views from the terrace were spectacular. To be able to get uninterrupted mountain views within a mile of Great Barrington High Street was special.

To be able to get uninterrupted mountain views within a mile of Great Barrington High Street was special.

I gingerly went inside and on entering the space, I felt as if I’d walked into a Tardis — the house was so much bigger and more interesting on the inside than it appeared from outside. Rooms packed from floor to ceiling with books, photos, artwork, and ephemera; a physical memorial to an owner who had clearly lived life to the max and had pursued a wide range of activities and interests. Although the home was in dire need of repair, it had a warm and inviting atmosphere that evoked memories of happy times. I poked my head into the antique walk-in safe and noticed some vintage Limoges dinnerware identical to a set we had inherited from Jack’s mother (which she had bought in 1955 at an estate sale in Louisiana). This detail sealed the deal for me. We could now comfortably host a white tie dinner for 20. 😊 I was hooked.

I headed back to New York and immediately arranged for Jack to visit the estate the following weekend, though sadly, that trip never materialized. Martha called first to postpone the viewing (because 
a government dignitary who was a close friend of the owner was staying at the house to hide from the press after finding himself in a spot of political hot water). She called again to cancel the rescheduled visit. A dispute over title had arisen between father and daughter forcing the listing to be removed indefinitely.

Despite the setback, Jack and I did manage to squeeze in a drive-by tour of the estate. We couldn’t enter the main home and while viewing the grounds, we were harassed by a rather aggressive tenant who was unhappy about the thought of a new landlord. It was not the best introduction for Jack. As we left the estate, he gave me a puzzled look that said, “I have no idea why you are so excited about this place”. He would later change his mind when he stepped inside — but not for another 18 months …

We continued to look for a property and saw several interesting estates, but nothing that came close to matching the potential of Aston Magna. In my heart, I always felt that we would own the estate one day, I just did not know how or when that would happen.

Roll forward to November 2022 when a series of coincidences happened, or events my mother would have said were “no coincidence.” On November 6th, 2022, we purchased a property in Great Barrington. Three weeks later, around Thanksgiving, I received two calls from Martha. The first to inform me that she had been approached by a couple asking if we would consider flipping the house we had just bought (we said we would) and a second to tell me that the owner of Aston Magna had passed away unexpectedly, thus opening the door to the possibility of the estate being relisted for sale. So, we flipped the other property on January 4th, 2023 (having not spent a single night in the house) and went under contract to purchase Aston Magna a few days later. Yay! Well perhaps, meh would be more accurate.

This was when the real adventure began. Although the owner of the property, Lee Elman, and his daughter Alex had reconciled prior to his death, Lee had never withdrawn the lawsuit, so it was still active on the court systems, and since he was now deceased and his estate was in probate, it took a long time to resolve everything and confirm title. However, we persevered and got the deal over the finish line in time for Mother Nature’s Fall foliage fanfare, which made for a picture-perfect ending.

However, the real icing on the cake for me was the alliance I formed with Alex Elman over the course of the due diligence period. We discovered we had a lot in common; both of us are strong independent women (like our own mothers who were also both called Dorothy), and we were raised by highly creative parents who lived life to the full and whose presence had a positive impact on people. Their collective joie de vivre rubbed off on us and we built a friendship that made dealing with the Trust & Estate attorneys (who seemed to work at a glacial pace) so much easier to bear. Alex, who lives in Florida, graciously allowed us access to the property prior to closing, which gave our architect, Michael Davis, time to get acquainted with the main home so he could begin to formulate his vision for its renaissance. He spent days wandering the halls, often joined in the shadows by the spirit of Lee, whose presence seemed almost palpable at times.

Which brings us to Friday, August 11th, 2023 — the closing. We had to clear a last-minute hurdle involving a defunct smoke alarm in one of the cottages, but we managed to get a temporary safety certificate from the Fire Marshall and a week to remediate (which we did) so the closing was allowed to proceed, and the sale was recorded at 4:57 PM, a few minutes before the Town Hall shuttered its doors for the weekend.

This event marked the finalization of a real estate contract that was two years in the making, and it closed the chapter on Aston Magna. More importantly, it marked the start of the next chapter — Chesterfield.

Over and out.