House of Dreams

The gracious Old World Spanish hacienda that Al and Dawn Hoffman built in Gulf Harbour Yacht & Country Club in Fort Myers bears the name Casa de Sueños, or House of Dreams. That certainly describes the family story that has unfolded within its vine-covered walls and under the painted wood coffered ceilings. Dawn Hoffman realized her dream when she and Al decided to adopt two little girls from a Russian orphanage. Now those girls are growing up in a loving American home; and Casa de Sueños, built as an elegant showplace for a couple, has been transformed into the lively center of family life.

Dawn and al were living in Plant City (where they were married 12 years ago) when they decided to design and build a home together in Southwest Florida. They settled on Gulf Harbour for its convivial neighborhood characteristics and water views. Their Spanish-style, 12,000-square-foot residence backs up to the Caloosahatchee River. Rick Gonzalez of West Palm Beach was their architect; Joan Simonsen Hickok of the Naples firm of Simonsen-Hickok Interiors assisted with furnishing the home.

The Hoffmans' original intent was not to build a family home per se, although they fashioned guest rooms for Al's three grown children and expanding generation of grandchildren, which now number five. Instead, the home was constructed for relaxed living and easy entertaining. Dawn collects cookbooks, and the couple's favorite kind of party is to cook together on Saturday for a few friends.

Among those friends are some powerful business and political players, since Al Hoffman, founder and CEO of WCI Communities, one of the state's biggest developers of luxury communities, is a major national rainmaker for the GOP. The couple has hosted fund raisers at their Gulf Harbour home that have brought in millions for the likes of Gov. Jeb Bush and President George W. Bush. But the Hoffman house is now first and foremost a home, revealing a softer side to this hard-driving businessman.

The architecture of Casa de Sueños fully integrates outside and interior spaces with glass doors opening onto covered patios, long terraces, spacious galleries, and gardens that include water features such as a koi pond and fountain in the formal front-entrance courtyard. In the back, a disappearing-edge swimming pool seems to spill into the wide river beyond.

The rambling two-story house and grounds took a year and a half to design and just as long to build. When it was finished, the Hoffmans had a magnificent mansion tastefully appointed with art and antiques purchased on their travels and through Dawn's lively participation by phone or in person at auctions. They entertained, they enjoyed, they had the house of their dreams complete in every way. Or so they thought.

"Then I turned 40, and suddenly I had these deep yearnings to have a child," says Dawn, who had remained happily without offspring through her first marriage. "It came out of nowhere. I didn't so much have this urgent need to be pregnant and to give birth; but I wanted very much to nurture a baby and raise a child, to bond with another little human being. The idea of adoption slowly took shape, and I began quietly making inquiries. It took me two years before I could approach Al with the idea, but by then I was sure I wanted a baby."

Dawn says her husband was cool at best to the idea of becoming a parent again in his mid-60s. He was working as hard as ever and was leading major fund-raising efforts for the Republican Party statewide and nationally. He was still avidly interested in horses and in the Tampa Bay Polo Club, which he founded and chaired for 15 years. His service on various cultural and education boards of directors kept him busy. Plus, Al was happily into the grandparenting phase of family dynamics. His life wasn't missing anything.

"Al calls it my campaign," says his wife. "I appealed to his compassionate instincts to help those less fortunate. I told him we had a special chance to rescue a child, to save a life, and that was finally what did it. He agreed to be a father again; and I was going to be a mother, a role I can tell you now I was totally unprepared for."

With the help of their friend Donald Evans (who's the U.S. Secretary of Commerce), the Hoffmans found Adoptions Abroad, a Houston-based nonprofit agency that helps American families find overseas children. "I thought of Eastern Europe because I had seen that famous 60 Minutes show about the reporter who rescued a baby from a Romanian orphanage," says Dawn. "I was comfortable with Adopt-ions Abroad and its president, Jan Melis, right away. I asked for a baby girl, and the screening began."

The Texas agency worked to locate a child in one of several Russian orphanages it works with, and the couple made two trips to Russia, the first to meet the toddler and say yes or no. If yes, the couple would return to Russia later to pick up the baby. The adoption process costs about $25,000.

In just six months, Adoptions Abroad had a 20-month old baby girl for the Hoffmans to see. The meeting would last about 15 minutes, and then the couple would have 10 minutes to make their decision. It was a long leap of faith in a short amount of time.

When Al and Dawn first saw their 20-month-old baby girl, Sophie (not her name then), she was in the hospital recovering from chicken pox. Al was warned that the baby would not be friendly to a man because her Russian caregivers were all female. He was also told that a white-haired man might be especially frightening, so he decided to step back and videotape the child's encounter with Dawn. But when Sophie was brought out, she went straight to Al.

"I suggested to Al that he put down the camera and talk to her," says Dawn. "Amazingly, she came right over and sat in his lap and touched his cheek. She never even noticed me. When our time was up, Sophie cried when they took her from Al, and we had to beg for a few more minutes. When we finally were led away, the person in charge told us to decide. Al immediately said, 'Yes, we will take her,' and I was kind of shocked. I had not touched that baby; I wasn't at all sure this was the right child. I had assumed there would be this instant maternal bonding but it didn't happen. And now I was going to be this child's mother. I was terrified."

Dawn says that the first six months with Sophie were as trying a time as any she's faced. Sophie had been with her biological mother for a full year before she was placed in the orphanage, where she had remained for several months before the Hoffmans came into her turbulent life. She was wary of bonding again with a maternal figure. Dawn now says that Sophie would have been a challenging child for even an experienced mother. For a novice, the adjustment was unnerving.

"One morning when I went into her room to get her, she kept pushing me away," says Dawn. "I just went out into the hallway and cried. I didn't know what to do. I had been phoning Al's daughters for advice and asking other parents and reading, but nothing was really working. In desperation, I went through the Yellow Pages and found a course called Redirecting Behavior. I was in tears when I called to sign up. Those classes, plus just living through the adjustment period with patience and constant attention, turned the situation around. Even-tually, we became a happy family. I relaxed and became more confident, with a new perspective on mothering and some useful strategies to draw on. But I have to say, what took time and tears for me happened instantly between Al and Sophie. He's the calming influence. They both love horses and he's teaching her to ride. They swim together; they're just great with each other in every way."

Part of the adjustment was making the house kid-friendlier and safer. Baby gates went up. Dawn converted a room of bunk beds originally done up in red and blue denim as a guest-room for grandsons into a pastel pink-and yellow-retreat for a little girl who prefers frilly dresses to sportswear and who takes dance lessons as well as piano and gymnastics.

Toy chests and high chairs insinuated themselves into the family room of antique sideboards, silk side chairs and Old Master art works. In the pool area, Al added a strip of white sandy beach (now dotted with plastic pails and shovels). Al also identified the foyer's curving stone staircase with its black wrought iron banister and railings as a potential hazard. The rails were widely spaced enough for a small child to fall through.

So he strung white nylon cord through the openings to tighten up the space. It's a temporary-and touching-fix that signals children now outweigh elegance in this home. Dawn meanwhile worked with another mother in the community to have a park installed for the children of Gulf Harbour.