Lunch by the creek.
The club by three.

Brushy Creek runs year round along the back of the property, over a shoal of granite boulders, and on a still night with a window cracked in the primary bedroom you can hear it from bed. Cicadas above it. The waterfall on the hillside running underneath. It is the first thing the owners mention and the last thing a buyer forgets.

Solid brick with stucco accents, steep dormers, arched Palladian windows, and a leaded-glass entry opening on a two-story foyer and a curved staircase. Heavy moldings throughout. Arched openings repeat from room to room, framing views through the house rather than closing it off. The living room rises two full stories to a bank of clerestory glass, a fireplace at one end and French doors at the other giving onto a silver travertine terrace.

The kitchen is the room the house was rebuilt around. A Wolf range under a marble slab, a pot filler above it, Sub-Zero refrigeration behind panels, a Cove dishwasher, and an island of honed marble long enough for four stools and a spread of newspapers. Off it, a scullery with open shelving and a wine refrigerator. Beyond it the keeping room, where a stone hearth rises the full height of the wall between two arched openings.