Candy at Last (28 page)

“Tori, have you noticed that when you go away on vacation that you have the best time, but when you come back and take on so much to make up for lost time, you get a migraine?”

“You know, Mommy, you’re right.”

Mommy, you’re right?
Mothers don’t get to hear those words very often. When we do, we should record them so we can play them as pick-me-ups for all the times when our children think we’re idiots. Is there a mother on earth who doesn’t feel as if her children sometimes treat her like she doesn’t know anything? I doubt it.

Tori and I are a work in progress and probably always will be. I notice that the more my self-esteem expands, the less patience I have for the pursuit cycle she creates when she shuts me out. We have a pattern and until we can break that pattern hand-in-hand, this is going to be the little dance she and I do together.

29

Up, Up, and Away

The rumors that I was selling The Manor began even before Aaron was buried. I hadn’t even given it a thought—it was our family home and the place Aaron most loved to be. Initially, I was annoyed by all of the speculation, and I wondered where the rumors were coming from. Usually where there is smoke there is fire, but I hadn’t spoken to any realty companies about putting the house on the market or gotten bids from any moving companies, so really there was no fire. Then I realized the buzz about The Manor’s being sold was happening for the simple reason that many women who find themselves widowed with an empty nest choose to downsize.

The Manor was definitely a different house now that it was just me. Time crept along at a languorous pace. Even the light that fell through the windows at the different times of the day was unfamiliar to me. The hallways that had once been filled with so much life, not to mention glamour, were empty. The house had gone from being our home to a monument of a previous existence.

For the first time in the twenty-one years that we lived there, I also didn’t have a dog. Not long after Aaron passed away, my dog, Annie, died
unexpectedly. It was devastating and came as a huge shock. Now there really wasn’t anything breathing life into the quiet house.

Annie was a Wheaten terrier mix that Tori had helped me rescue years before Aaron was sick. We had driven a long a way along Southern California interstates that I didn’t know existed to the dog rescue where Annie was in boarding. I had seen her picture and read her profile on the pet adoption website and knew she was my dog. I had a very specific kind of dog in mind. I wanted one that looked like my old dog, Gracie. Gracie had been Tori’s dog first. She was also a rescue, and from what we could see or hear, she had probably been turned in for barking. Shortly after Tori got Gracie, she started having problems with her homeowner’s association because of the barking, so Gracie moved in with her grandparents. She was a wonderful dog. We loved her so much. Annie looked quite a bit like Gracie in her adoption profile picture, so I had been looking forward to bringing her home with us.

Unfortunately, Annie had already been adopted by an older lady. After two weeks, however, the lady had called the mission back and said that the dog was lethargic and ended up returning her. The day the mission posted Annie’s photo I saw it online, quickly called, and picked her up. Rescuing dogs is a big commitment. They often come with so many emotional issues that you really have to be prepared to nurture these little souls back to emotional health. Annie blossomed at The Manor, though she was always a little anxious and never got over her fear of men.

As much as I missed having a dog, I really didn’t have the emotional wherewithal to bring another one into my life. Running The Manor was a full-time job in itself. In between doing upkeep, I was focused on finding my way.

About six months after Annie died, it was time to think about getting a dog. I decided to get a puppy because after all I had been through, I wanted a dog that would be around for the longest time possible. I didn’t have anything in particular in mind. I just knew I wanted a female.

One of my girlfriends was getting a little Cockapoo puppy, so I went with her to look at them. It was out in Orange County, so we met in a parking lot
somewhere and then made the drive behind the Orange Curtain. The Cockapoos were darling, but they just weren’t my kind of dog. In another part of the house they also had a couple of Wheaten terrier puppies and there was my Madison. It was love at first sight.

I brought her home around Christmastime, and she brought so much life and energy to The Manor. She was the only dog I’ve ever had that would go outside and amuse herself for hours on her own. She would chase the birds and get into the pond, and she was always on the lookout for squirrels.

The five years I spent alone in The Manor were long ones. One morning I woke up and it hit me. It was time to let it go. I wanted to enjoy my life, and I knew it would be difficult with the responsibility of The Manor on my hands. Some part of the house would always be screaming at me for attention.

If arriving at the emotional place where I could make the decision to part from The Manor was difficult, the logistics of selling it was even more complex. My attorney arranged for us to meet different brokers, whose marketing plans were submitted to Linda and me for review. There were no comps in the area, so it was difficult to set an asking price. The closest thing to a comp is Suzanne Saperstein’s Fleur de Lys estate, which was only a few miles away north of Sunset Boulevard on Carolwood Drive. Inspired by the seventeenth-century Château de Vaux-le-Vicomte, Fleur de Lys was built in 2002 and has been on and off the market since 2006. Truthfully, The Manor and Fleur de Lys were apples and oranges. I figured if Fleur de Lys could command an asking price of $125 million, it was reasonable to ask $150 million for The Manor.

With these kinds of estates, you obviously can’t hold an open house. So we relied on getting the word out through the media. Linda also came up with a very clever “150 Reasons to Buy The Manor” and I hit the talk show circuit to promote the house. I was on
The Nate Berkus Show, The Wendy Williams Show,
and
Entertainment Tonight
. I also did interviews with everyone from
People
magazine to the
Lansing State Journal
in Michigan. It really was a conundrum. Obviously somebody very high profile, not to mention solvent, was going to purchase The Manor. But if that high-profile personality wanted
to fly below the radar, then The Manor was not the place for them to buy. I also wanted a clean deal and not a complicated financial transaction. I had one offer from a very viable party, but the terms included a long-term rent back, and that was not what I was interested in.

Believe it or not, there are quite a number of celebrity “looky-loos” who are known for checking out exclusive properties even though they have no intention of buying them. To avoid this scenario, all potential buyers had to be prequalified. It didn’t matter who it was, they had to go through the paces. Jeff Hyland of Hilton & Hyland who represented The Manor explained his process to the
Los Angeles Times
very simply: “If they or their party were not on the Forbes list, it was very easy to decline the showing.”

After I sold The Manor, I read a quote from one very-high-profile New York City real estate mogul who claimed to have been shown The Manor. Despite the fact that he is on the Forbes list, he didn’t qualify and he was never shown the house. In his defense, I will say that these days not even I would qualify to buy my house.

The Manor was on the market for 850 days before it finally sold. I wasn’t at all surprised that a twenty-two-year-old British socialite was the buyer. Petra Ecclestone is an aspiring fashion designer, and The Manor was the perfect way for her to plant her flag in Los Angeles. What did come as a shock was the requirement that I had to be packed and out of The Manor in just thirty days. I was game but my conundrum was when to start dismantling The Manor given that there were contingencies that would allow the Ecclestones to drop out of the deal if there was mold, termites, or structural issues. I knew the house was in excellent condition, but I didn’t want to start taking apart my bed frame until the deal was final.

The sand started slipping through the hourglass very quickly as soon as escrow closed. What took in essence seven years to create was being deconstructed in a month. It took three moving companies to pack up more than one hundred rooms, and I did quite a bit of the packing myself. One company was solely dedicated to packing up the attic. I had a schedule and a game plan to
get us out of the house. Getting rid of things was incredibly hard for me, but I knew that it was necessary. I was moving to a condo, so I had to prioritize.

Everything in The Manor was marked with a sticky note indicating its final destination. “A” was for Auction, “D” was for Donate, “S” was for Storage, and “C” was for condo, which meant it was coming with me. I rented a warehouse for storage and signed a lease on a temporary residence where I would live while my condo was being built. The Century had offered me a special arrangement where I could rent an apartment from them, but it made more sense to live elsewhere for now.

I really have to give it to the movers. They cleverly placed two-foot wood strips on the stairs so that they could slide boxes from top to bottom with men posted on either side to make sure nothing slid out of control. We all worked from dawn until midnight. When I did get some sleep, I dreamt of Styrofoam peanuts, bubble wrap, tape guns, felt-tip pens, and cardboard boxes. It was the definition of controlled chaos with an emphasis on controlled.

When I had put the house on the market in 2008, HGTV, along with some other networks including the newly launched Oprah Winfrey Network, had approached me about documenting my move in a reality miniseries. Who would have ever thought twenty-one years before when we shot video of the grounds and of ourselves breaking ground that moving out of our home would be so public? Had he lived, Aaron never would have sold the house, but I believe he would have understood if he could have seen my singular life. Making a reality show about packing up the house and moving on was an opportunity to pay homage to the most prolific man that television had ever seen.

We shot a sizzle reel for the show, which is a ten-minute video highlighting what the show will look like to the viewers. The sizzle reel is a key tool when you are pitching a reality show. My producer, Stuart, was beyond excited when he saw the final version of the reel. Even over the phone, I could feel his energy.

“We really have something big here.”

Given the market and the economy, neither one of us was in a big hurry, and we figured we would shop the reel until we found the right network. Everything was easy and stress free until the day I accepted the offer on the house. I immediately called Stuart.

“We’re in trouble. I just sold the house and I have to be out in thirty days.”

At the time, we were in talks with OWN, but they had just gotten up and running and couldn’t decide whether
Selling Spelling Manor
fit in with their programming. Since we had a new time line, Stuart pitched the sizzle reel to five other networks which were then quickly whittled down to three. Ultimately, we went forward with HGTV. Stuart and I agreed that they had a lot of integrity and the right point of view, and they remained faithful to it.

It was a big self-worth moment for me when I was asked to be made an executive producer of the show. It’s different from scripted television in which the creators are often executive producers. As an executive producer, I would have decision-making power, and that gave me a sense of control. The network balked at my terms, but I stuck to my guns and made it a condition. I had learned to stick up for myself and negotiate on my own behalf, something I would not have been able to do just a few years ago. It was a great feeling when they agreed. We found ourselves shooting the first installment before the ink was dry on the contract.

I was a little nervous about being on camera again, but not nearly as much as I had been when I shot
Bank of Hollywood.
I tried to forget that millions of people would be watching the show, and honestly, I did get caught up in the emotions of what we were capturing.

Aaron’s office, which was more like a library, was the hardest room to pack up. Those bound scripts and Aaron’s typewriter were where it all began. They were the true foundation of the house and our life. I could still remember decorating his office and accessorizing it. I remember wanting it to be absolutely perfect for him. Before I moved out, I had called Tori and Randy to ask them to come by and choose mementos from the house that they could pass on to their children. Tori chose Aaron’s typewriter.

I donated all of Aaron’s bound scripts, production stills, and awards to the Film and Television Department at Boston University’s College of Communication. The school has an emphasis on writing, and I knew in my heart that’s where Aaron would have wanted his collected works to go. On October 4, Boston University opened the Aaron Spelling Room, and I was there for the dedication.

For thirty days I had been living in such an abject mess that it was a big challenge for me since order and cleanliness are at the core of my being. I kept talking myself off the ledge and reminded myself that once it was over, I could completely fall apart. In the meantime, there was no rest for the weary because Petra Ecclestone was set to begin construction the morning after I moved out.

When the last day came, it hit me hard. It was an “all-hands-on-deck” situation as my staff, who had been relegated to a tiny work space, cleaned out the refrigerators on the lower level of the house. On the one hand I was looking forward to being out from under the responsibility of The Manor, but on the other hand I was overwhelmed with precious memories. I looked out the window at the pool and remembered when the patio was filled with people. I’ll never forget the look on Aaron’s face when I told him that I had kept the carpet paid for by the British Commonwealth when Prince Charles came to visit.