There is a moment on every historic home remodel when the house begins to tell the truth about itself. A section of plaster comes down in a 1920s Chevy Chase Colonial, and behind it porcelain knobs still carry cloth-wrapped wire across the joists. A kitchen wall opens in a Georgetown rowhouse, and the studs run uninterrupted from basement sill to attic. In the pre-war homes of the Washington, DC metro area, this is the expected condition. What varies is how the firm standing in that opened wall responds.

“We’ll do the kitchen now and the bathrooms next year.” It is one of the most common sentences we hear — and one of the most expensive if the plan stops there.