Still, it would require radical surgery to transform this baby into a single-family dwelling that is both sophisticated and pet friendly. Connaughton and partner Michael Klecko accomplished the task by retaining what was worthwhile about the property – and shaping the rest of the space into an inviting home conducive to frequent entertaining and visits from friends and relatives. “You have to have a vision of what you want and say, OK, I’m going to get it – and don’t compromise until you do,” he says.

Before Connaughton found the house, he discovered Lewes. One summer day, as he was waiting for relatives to arrive for a vacation in Reboboth Beach, he decided to while away an afternoon on Lewes’s annual garden tour. “By the fifth house, I was looking for a Realtor,” he recalls.

The village’s diverse mix of townspeople, artists and history buffs seemed ideal to Connaughton, then planning his retirement, and Klecko, a real estate agent. But the property they finally settled on possessed none of the charm of the town. Built in 1862 as a flour mill, the structure had been repurposed as a school, subsequently abandoned, and partitioned into apartments in the 1980s. “It was a big, old, barny-looking building,” Connaughton recalls.

Still, the structure sat on three lots, the only property available with that much ground in the small village. “It had the space I needed for the kids,” he says, referring to his seven dogs.

The building was gutted and renovated into a three-story residence with high ceilings and abundant natural light. Klecko laid out the floor plan, using a three-dimensional architectural program on his computer, a technique he declares “incredibly easy to use.” Connaughton served as general contractor, integrating the best ideas he gleaned from previous renovations into the project.

Two large beams from the original mill form a freestanding T in the den, a reference to the home's rustic past.

Although he had a clear vision of how he wanted the house to look and function, he hired professionals to do the work. “I can do a Caesarian section, but the thought of cutting a miter – I could never do that,” he quips.

A large cinderblock core, built as a conduit for heating stoves, was removed to open the floor plan and provide space for a central staircase. An elevator was installed, a convenience that frees visitors from the burden of carrying luggage to the third-floor guest suite. “It’s not expensive to put in an elevator when you’re building from scratch,” Connaughton says.

Starting over also provided the opportunity to introduce striking architectural elements into the structure. While visiting his sister in Chicago, Connaughton discovered a handsome pair of doors with graceful wrought-iron insets, originally crafted for a French villa in the 18th Century. He thought the doors would fit perfectly in the mill-turned-house, so he had them shipped to Delaware, transom and all. Flanked by oversized lantern lights and a pair of foo dog statues, the doors create a striking entrance.

For the floors, he chose Vermont white pine. Most of the wood was newly milled, but Connaughton obtained old planks from a barn in Illinois for the master suite and had them sent east. Visually, the wood floors ground the house, keeping the space from looking too new. And the surface of pine, softer than oak and other hardwoods, readily acquires an inviting patina. “Scratches on the floor tell a story,” he says. “I don’t mind them.”

Weathered beams from the mill also were retained, a rustic reference to the structure’s origins. Two large beams form a freestanding T in the den. Wood is left exposed in the wall of a second-floor guestroom. “We kept those reminders wherever we could,” Connaughton notes.

Still, the house is replete with modern amenities, including a posh master bath with a soaking tub positioned for a window view. The kitchen blends the sleekness of granite counters and stainless steel appliances with raised panel cabinets glazed in white, reminiscent of 18th-Century cupboards. Because Klecko and Connaughton enjoy hosting family and friends, they installed two dishwashers, ultra-quiet German-made Bosch models that won’t disrupt conversation in the adjacent family room. “You have to put your ear next to it to hear it running,” Connaughton says.

A pair of twin fireplaces received an elegant uplift from marble trim, coral for the parlor and verde green for the adjoining dining room. A local carpenter crafted the raised-panel wainscoting in the dining room, 48 inches tall instead of the standard 36, in proportion with the 10-foot ceilings. The centerpiece of the space is a large folding table, one of a pair made for George VI of England. Connaughton spied it in an antiques store in London and had it shipped home. The Chippendale chairs that surround it were purchased at a consignment store.

Asian prints, souvenirs of other travels, are an artistic foil to the Empire sofa in the parlor. The huge tableau of hand-painted Chinese wallpaper was taken down from a public building in Shanghai during the Cultural Revolution and discovered years later, miraculously intact in a store in Hong Kong. It hangs on a wall above the foyer, a place specifically designed for the piece.

Connaughton and Klecko paid special attention to the finishes throughout the house. In the family room and kitchen, joint compound was troweled over drywall to replicate the ripples of aged plaster. In the study, the walls are a rich, chocolate brown, painted to look like leather.

The grounds that first attracted the owners to the property have been transformed into a series of outdoor rooms. There’s a pool and a large, screened porch for entertaining – and a heated and cooled kennel for the dogs. Klecko designed a patio with an undulating edge that matches the curves of a pond fed by a waterfall. And there’s a mill stone, plumbed as a fountain in a Zen-like meditation garden.

“Somehow, the original mill stone wound up getting thrown out,” Connaughton says. “We had to get another one because we knew it was right for the house.”