On the ceiling of the Hollywood Hills home were paintings by Paolo de Matteis, an 18th-century Baroque artist, which Mr. Vidal had hung in La Rondinaia, his home in Ravello, Italy, which he sold in 2005. Mr. Vidal, who died in July 2012 at 86 in a bed set up in the living room, with its view of tall trees that reminded him of Italy, once fondly described a de Matteis figure, a barely clothed maiden with arms wantonly outstretched, as one of his famous houseguests and friends: “Princess Margaret asking for a gin and tonic.”

Mr. Steers, 48, a screenwriter and director of movies including “Igby Goes Down” and “Charlie St. Cloud,” advised me to not sit in one chair. “He lost control of his bladder, so that chair’s been through a lot of ugly things,” he said.

A study room contained Mr. Vidal’s work, neatly shelved: the 25 novels and the 26 nonfiction works, including his celebrated and controversial essays. (He also wrote 14 screenplays and eight stage plays.) In part of the garden a swimming pool was full of water but was a brackish mess of dirt and cracks.

“You could see William Holden floating face down in this, couldn’t you?” said Mr. Steers, invoking “Sunset Boulevard.” “Norma Desmond was kind of what Gore was becoming.”
His tone was affectionate, but then Mr. Steers revealed, as an abrupt aside, that his uncle had left nothing to his family or intimates in his will. Instead, he bequeathed his entire fortune and assets to Harvard University.