But I saw abundant evidence that the Palumbos use the place when they are in town. Sculptures come and go. An antique maple rocking chair sits exotically among the svelte Mies furnishings. Wine bottles fill the stainless-steel kitchen counter. A black Trimline telephone rests on the bedside shelf.
Family pictures line the bathroom walls.
Neckties are draped decorously inside the teak wardrobe. He used to keep house more ascetically, Palumbo said, but that created a problem. It was beginning to take itself too seriously. I thought it needed livening up. As for me, I delight in signs that the place is inhabited, that it is not frozen as a museum but rather breathes with the needs and whims of its owners.