Ellen Thomas and her husband, Robert Ranzenbach, cherished their downtown Annapolis apartment, but they knew it was time to graduate to a place with more space - to entertain and raise Redmund, their six-year-old Irish terrier. So, armed with a mental checklist of their requirements, Thomas set out on her bike one afternoon to cruise local neighborhoods in search of the perfect house. “People said we had unrealistic expectations. We wanted nine-foot ceilings, plaster walls, hardwood floors, and a two-car garage,” she says. “Most importantly, it had to be less than two miles from downtown.”

For these sailing enthusiasts who met twenty years ago on a friend’s boat, living near the water was also a high priority. Thomas, a Towson native, and Ranzenbach, an aerodynamicist from Seattle, dreamed of a house where they could be on Spa Creek within ten minutes (they have two kayaks, two Boston whalers, as well as two sailing dinghies) and enjoy the city’s casual pace.

“I love Annapolis,” Thomas muses. “It’s more laidback than other towns. People go out to dinner in shorts and T-shirts, and friends drop by unannounced.” Her husband, who hails from the West Coast, adds, “A lot of people wondered why I would leave. But I’ve come to appreciate living in a small town. Annapolis is such a unique place, with elements of urban lifestyle without being a hardcore, gritty city.”

As soon as Thomas saw the duplex, with its covered porch and welcoming entryway on a quiet Homewood street, she knew she was home. The two-story house had everything the couple wanted, even a master bedroom big enough for Ranzenbach to stretch his arms without touching the wallsÐÐa challenge in many of the older homes in the town’s historic district. And with its outdated kitchen, oddly configured bathroom, and lack of landscaping, the property was the perfect project. “For our first house, we didn’t want the whole ball of wax,” Thomas says. “We didn’t want a total rehab, but we wanted a challenge to take on.”

“I was a bit more reluctant at first,” counters Ranzenbach, “but Ellen had a clear vision of what the house could be. Now I’m thrilled with what we were able to do with it.”

After gutting the kitchen themselves and renovating the bathroom (his favorite project, since it was such a complete transformation), the couple created an informal retreat where guests can kick up their heels. They didn’t rely on a designer but instead blended their heirloom furniture and offbeat art pieces into an eclectic, inviting home. “We didn’t really have a decorating scheme in mind. The most important thing was for people to feel comfortable,” Thomas says. “We wanted them to feel happy to pull a book off the shelf or show interest in what’s around them.”

The foyer creates a warm welcome right away, with a bright red door and a deep khaki color Thomas calls “wet pumpkin pie mix” on the walls. This entry alcove was a selling point for Thomas: “Even though it’s a small house, the foyer and the high ceilings give it a big house feel, and it’s a nice transition into the personal space of the house.” Plus, it’s a place to display whimsical finds, including a hat-shaped lamp from her mom and a fish chair found on a sailing trip. Along one wall stands a large wooden dry sink Thomas inherited from her Uncle Henry; his and other family hand-me-downs show up in nearly every niche of the home.

In the living room, Redmund lounges on an armchair near a burning fireplace. A built-in bookcase behind him houses Thomas’s unusual collection of vintage irons, a chrome toaster, and her dad’s circular sawÐall displayed as sculptures. Heart-pine floors connect the space to the adjacent dining room and kitchen, where the couple enjoys gathering around the claw-footed, cherry wood table from the 1800s (another gem from Uncle Henry).

Every room boasts eye-catching artwork, and the dining room is no exception. Here a striking seven-foot-tall contemporary painting by Annapolis artist Cindy Fletcher Holden takes center stage. “We like accessible artÐÐpaintings that don’t cost $10,000,” Thomas says. The couple, who frequent area galleries, maintain a strict six-month rule about buying art. “Our tastes are pretty wide-ranging; it’s got to be a piece that reaches out and grabs you,” says Ranzenbach. “But if it’s compelling enough that we’re still talking about it three or six months later, maybe we should do something about it.”

Upstairs in the bathroom, Thomas painted a masterpiece of her own - a black-and-white checkerboard pattern on the fir wood floor. “I really proved myself with it,” she boasts. “Robert’s a measurer, and I’m not. I laid it out before a party and started running out of time, but it turned out really well.” She also painted the walls a sunburst yellow vibrant enough to cheer her up on even the coldest winter mornings. A handy friend helped create the one-of-a-kind vanity, made with an assemblage of porch columns, a three-inch thick black laminate top, and a custom-built wood rack, where towels sit exposed. “I wanted a house with no instructions. We love having guests, so if people stay over, they don’t need to ask where the towels are. They’re right there,” says Thomas. “We also wanted the guest bedroom to be so comfortable people wouldn’t want to leave.”

Eight years after biking to this charming house, Thomas and Ranzenbach’s first home may just be their last. “This was supposed to be a starter house, but now we don’t have any plans of leaving,” she says. “We love it here. Kids ride their bikes, and we know our neighbors. More and more, I appreciate that it’s an established neighborhood.”

Ranzenbach seconds that: “We’re able to walk to things, we’re near friends. Before, I didn’t want to leave downtown. Now, I don’t want to leave Homewood.”

Vivian Canedo-Muzyk, a former Southern Living editor, writes from her home in Baltimore’s Mount Vernon.