In any case, as soon as he crossed that little bridge and saw the place, he was a goner. “Most people weren’t going to want it—it’s so small, and it needed work—but I was charmed. We kept the footprint of the rooms as much as we could—it was more of a restoration—and we didn’t work with an architect, but with a local builder: I find it more appealing to be hands-on.” The windows, while refreshed, have the same wood frames they featured 80-odd years ago; the faux ceilings have been banished; and now the slanted eaves sport, in two cases, slightly spooky vintage antler chandeliers.
When your total square footage is just a squeak over 1,000 (full disclosure: it sits on 40 rolling acres), the house tour doesn’t take long. That said, the magic is in the details—as with the Jenny Lind spindle beds in the room that River and Vivienne share, which came with the house. “I wanted our home to be fun and entertaining and happy for them,” Vevers declares. I ask him if the twins get along, and he says that while they can be frenemies, he sometimes finds them huddled in one bed, telling each other stories.
Most of the rest of the house’s furnishings were found at antiques shops or flea markets—the Elephant’s Trunk flea, at which the couple are regulars, is just a short drive away. The floral pictures in the primary bedroom were discovered on Shelter Island; the hooked rug in the hall bearing the date 1937 was unearthed in Massachusetts. A pair of 19th-century pink Bristol glass lamps in the living room are just itching to be smashed by a four-year-old’s hand, but Vevers isn’t worried—it is important to him that the twins grow up surrounded by beauty. “Children notice places that are well cared for,” says Seidler, who adds that any inevitable small tragedies will simply become stories in the life of the house.
