"Not a problem, I'll carry sixteen bags at once to avoid making a second trip." Taft strolled over, waited until she'd cleared the way, and moved into the space to take up the remaining items. A box and a bag. He cradled the box and held the bag dangling from his off hand. He closed her truck door and gestured toward the house, both with his free hand. "Welcome to my palatial mansion, Casa de Taft. I gotta hand it to the hippies, they know how to recycle things." He followed her to the french style double doors at the front of the house... well, French style in the way they opened. They were kinda post modern in build and appearance. They were also filled with shatter-proof glass, a balance between security and not looking like a security nut.
"The kitchen is straight back, past the guest bath and pantry. Respectively." He continued to let her precede him. It allowed him to close the front door behind him and, hey, the view was pretty nice too. She had a solid looking back porch swing. "Head's fine, Madam President. Thank goodness we have all the modern medicine afforded to us here in 1979." He was obviously joking, though his face was as stoic as ever. The guy could play poker with the devil if the devil thought he could scrounge up something to put in the pot that would interest the Sgt Major.
The Kitchen was large. Had an island that was half bar half prep surface, big double sink, a professional stove with a griddle and grill top. The oven was separate and mounted up so that one didn't have to bend over to deal with its contents. The surfaces were a very reasonable formica in a dark blue, the cabinets whatever color matched that because Taft's player wasn't even remotely good at this sort of stuff. He usually boiled Ramen or short order food or grilled a steak at the... oh! "Hey, take a look out the big windows there at the back, tell me if you think the pool will work."