“Were you close?” he asked.
“Me and Aunt Maude? No, I hadn’t spoken to her in years,” I answered, starting down the steps.
He followed me. “Strange, isn’t it?”
“Strange?”
“That she left the house to someone she barely knew. I mean no offense, of course.”
“No, it is strange. My family and I have been trying to understand it ever since I got the call from Mr. Montgomery. The best I can figure is she knew I loved this house and was probably the least likely to sell it out of everyone in my family.”
“And no jealous brothers or sisters that wanted a house like this?” he asked.
This was the first real conversation we’d ever had.
“No sisters. Five older brothers, though. And none of them wanted it. Well, a couple of them were a little peeved that they didn’t get the chance to sell it off and pocket the cash, let’s say that. I think that—hey, where’d you go?” I looked behind me.
Clark was still at the bottom of the staircase. “You’ve got five older brothers?”
“Yeah.”
“And they’re all back in Philadelphia?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“No reason,” he said, hurrying to my side and pushing the swinging door open. “After you.”
I ducked under his arm, and looked up at his face. “You okay, Clark? You seem a little pale.”
“Must be the nose,” he said, and followed me into the kitchen.
“So those are my recommendations for now, Viv, based on the limited amount of time I’ve been here. I think most of what you want to do to make it more comfortable to live here can be accomplished without making any significant changes to the house itself.” Caroline sat at the kitchen table that afternoon with her notepad open, referring to it here and there as she laid out an initial plan for a renovation.
Clark and I had listened intently, only interrupting a few times.
“As for you, Clark, I know how you feel about this house, and for the most part I agree with you in terms of the aesthetic of leaving these old homes intact. However, my girl Viv needs to actually live here, not be a caretaker in a museum, so you’re going to have to be flexible, okay?” she said, pointing a finger at him.
I shot him a self-satisfied look, until she turned that finger on me. “Now, the house is on the historical register, and he’s in charge of that. So if you want your house to remain on the register—and you do, believe me—then you’re going to have to work with him. Okay?”
Now Clark was the one with the self-satisfied look. Humpf.
“I’m leaving a list of three contractors I’ve worked with in the area, and they’re all solid. Once I get back to my office I’ll prepare a list of some of the things you want to do right away, like the roof and the porch. Get a bid from each of them, then we’ll go from there. Sound good?” she asked, closing her notebook.
“I think so. How much do I owe you?”
“Not a dime; I’ve been dying to get away for a weekend. Just promise me that next time I come up, you’ll have a room ready for me to stay in.” She smiled at me, and I gave her a hug. She was a pretty cool chick. “And, Clark, you said you have copies of the grant her aunt received, yes? Can you send me a copy of that?”
“Of course. I know right where it is,” he said, closing up his briefcase.
“Dewey decimal system, right?” I joked.
He gave me a baleful stare. “Don’t mock the system, Vivian.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” I answered, standing up and heading for the fridge. “Now who wants a beer?”
“Gimme.” A deep voice sounded from the other side of the screen door, and we all turned. Simon and Ryan had returned from windsurfing, clad in wet suits and grins.
“Brrr, aren’t you cold?” Mimi asked, hurrying outside with a few towels I’d recently folded.
“Nah, it’s just brisk!” Ryan answered, his teeth chattering.
“Looks more than brisk. You sure you don’t want some coffee? I can have some made in”—I looked at the Magic Chef stove—“an hour?”
“Nah, we’ll be fine. Beer’s good,” Simon said, pulling down his wet suit in front and toweling off. Caroline dropped her notepad. Oh boy. And Mimi? She was getting frisky with the brisk. I grabbed two beers and held them out the porch door with my eyes closed.
“Here. Someone take these. Hurry,” I instructed, laughing when I heard Mimi squealing. “Clark, you want one?” I asked, hearing his deep laughter behind me when Caroline got a face full of wet suit. Aw yeah.
“No, no I should get going. Not sure where this is heading,” he said, still laughing.
“I’ll walk you out.” We bobbed and weaved through the couples on the porch, laughing as they said good-bye to Clark. As we headed for his car down the driveway, I caught him peeking at the garage.
“Do you know about her car?” I asked.
“The Bel Air? Oh yeah, that car’s a legend in this town. I grew up seeing it all over the place; not the kind of car you forget.”
“I haven’t even been too far into the garage; you wouldn’t believe the amount of crap that’s out there. But from what I’ve seen so far, it’s a pretty sweet car.”
“You know, Maude probably got all of the maintenance done at Brady’s Auto—that’s where everyone in town goes. I bet they still have all her records when it was in for service.” We’d reached his car and he set his briefcase inside, then leaned back against the door. “I could make a call, see if they still have those records, if you wanted me to.”
He smiled down at me, his shy grin prompting one in return. “You don’t have to go to any trouble, Clark. It’s sweet, though.”
“It’s no trouble, really. I don’t mind.”
“You sure this isn’t just a plot to get to ride around in it?” I teased. How did I ever think his hair was just brown? In the sun it was more like a deep chestnut, with hints of honey and russet. It was curling slightly in the salty air, waving away from his face now. “You want to get behind that wheel?”
“Now that you mention it, I—”
He was interrupted by a great rumbling as Hank’s massive beastly truck thundered up the gravel driveway and around the corner of the house.
He climbed out of the truck with an easy grace, the kind that comes with knowing exactly what your body is capable of. Blond hair pulled back, with a few escaped pieces bouncing freely around his face. He pulled off his shirt, then grabbed a few apples from the truck. He looked up, briefly caught my eye, and headed for the barn. But when he noticed me talking to Clark?
He turned midstride and headed directly for us. Clark stood up straighter, moving the tiniest bit closer to me. Hank’s eyes had laser locked on me, dragging his gaze down my body and back up again in a way that made me gulp. The other alternative was to drool; I was literally salivating.
He stopped not a foot from me. He held my stare in the way that really good-looking men can, knowing that their presence is enough. Then he opened his mouth to speak, finally initiating conversation with me!
“ ’Sup, Viv?”
The man was a poet. I had no words. Strike that, I had one.
“ ’Sup?”
He grinned at me, and I swear on all that is holy a sunbeam broke through the clouds and shone directly on him, highlighting the planes of his exquisite face and letting me know that beauty had a name, and its name was Hank.
“Oh for pity’s sake,” I heard behind me. I turned to see Clark staring at the two of us with a disapproving look on his face.
“Sorry about that, Clark. Do you know Hank?” I asked, sliding out of the way as the two appraised each other.
“Of course I know him. Small town, remember? How are you, Hank?”
“Hiya, Clark. What the hell happened to your face? You run into a door again?” Hank aske
d, starting to juggle the three apples he was holding.
“No I didn’t run into a door, I—”
Hank interrupted, “Senior year of high school, this guy ran right into a sliding glass door, broke his nose and the glass. It was hilarious! Man, that was a killer party too, everyone was there. Even Clark! I don’t think I’d ever seen you at a party before, come to think of it, and the one time you come, you walk right into a glass door! Oh man, that still cracks me up!”
Clark chuckled. “Yep, you got me there. Pretty funny stuff.” But his eyes weren’t laughing.
I felt like I should laugh, since they both were. But I couldn’t.
And after a few seconds, Hank was the only one. He finally stopped juggling, then said, “I brought these for the horses. Want to try giving one of them an apple?” He tossed one and I caught it.
“Sure, gimme a sec.” I turned back to Clark. “Thanks for coming by today. I really appreciate all the help with the house.”
He looked at me coolly. “Please keep me abreast of the bids you receive from the contractors, and consult me before making any final changes.”
I blinked. We were back to that?
“Viv! Come on!” Hank called, backing away toward the barn and beckoning me with one finger.
“I hope you have a pleasant visit with your friends, Vivian,” Clark said, getting into his car and driving away.
I walked across the yard toward the barn, noticing that the four on the porch were silent, watching as I followed Hank. I never even got to the barn, though, because I started sneezing and didn’t stop for almost two minutes.
chapter eight
That evening I went back with my friends to Mimi’s family’s house to have dinner. We ate, we drank, we played Pictionary (these four are oddly fierce when they are playing games), and just had a nice evening.
They stopped by in the morning before heading back to San Francisco, bringing pastries from the bakery in town, and I fired up the French press again. I’d found an old painting tarp in the garage and before they left, the boys and I headed up to the roof to tie it down. The forecast was calling for rain this week, and I didn’t want to spend another night moving buckets all over the living room. We got it tied down nice and secure, and it seemed like a good temporary fix until the roof could be replaced.
We were outside by the Range Rover, getting everyone situated and settled, Mimi talking a mile a minute about stopping for beef jerky. “I’m telling you, Simon, it’s the best jerky ever! Just ask Ryan. I make him stop every time we come up here to see my folks, you’ll see.”
“I’ve learned not to argue with that one.” Simon laughed, draping an easy arm around my shoulders. “Sure is nice to have you out here, Viv. You gotta come down to the city sometime and see our place in Sausalito.”
“I’ll totally take you up on that offer, as soon as I get things settled around here,” I said, leaning my head on his shoulder. I missed my brothers, and I was glad to have Simon only a few hours away if I needed him. I patted him on the butt, then reached for his best girl.
“Can’t thank you enough for everything you did, Caroline, although you and Clark did get a little too close for my comfort,” I teased.
She raised an eyebrow at me. “Yeah, what a terrible guy,” she said, making a show of hanging herself. “I have to say, after all the buildup, he wasn’t exactly the monster you made him out to be.”
“He’s okay, just a little uptight for me. Keeps me on my toes, though. And it’s fun making him squirm a bit. I was going to send him a text later asking if he wants to help me paint all the trim Day-Glo orange.” I grinned.
“You’re kind of a shit—you know this, right?” she asked, laughing as she pulled me into a hug.
“Kind of?”
“Now you let me know, Viv, if you need any more help organizing. I left my card and a price sheet for you on the dining room table, with a discount, of course, since we’re buddies now. So when you’re ready to really get organized, you call me, okay?” Mimi asked as Ryan helped her into the backseat.
“Buckle up, dear,” he said. “Nice you meet you again, Viv. We come up here a few times a year, so we’ll see you again. You’re coming down to San Francisco for the wedding, right?”
“That’s a brilliant idea!” Mimi said. “Oh, Viv, you have to come! Oh my God, Ryan, that’s the best idea you’ve ever had. It’s going to be the prettiest wedding anyone has ever seen! And you can—”
Ryan shut the car door and went around to the other side. As soon as he opened the door I heard:
“—and the cake has seven tiers, can you believe it? All the attendants have to wear black, I’m the only one in white, of course, and . . .”
Caroline told Simon, “Let’s get the jerky as soon as possible—it’s a three-hour drive.” She climbed into the front seat, leaving Simon and me standing there.
“Wind-surfing lesson next time?” he asked.
“Yup. Now get outta here.”
He got in and they sped off, Mimi’s hands waving excitedly as they pulled away. I chuckled for a moment, then headed back inside. It was really quiet in the house now. I finished my coffee, put in my earbuds, and got back to work cleaning.
And I noticed for the first time how big the house was for just one person.
The rest of that day was weird, and ended even weirder. I spent the day clearing out the living room. I’d started to divide things into piles: keep, donate, trash. There was a lot in the donate pile; someone was going to be set for tube socks for years. Aunt Maude was an As Seen On TV shopper if I’d ever seen one. Slap Chops, the WaxVac, the Chillow (which I was keeping, what a great idea!), to say nothing of the entire shrine dedicated to Ron Popeil and his empire. Food dehydrators, rotisserie grills—I even found a box of old-fashioned hair spray in a can.
I wondered again how Aunt Maude turned out the way she did. Fiercely independent, but also, it appeared, fiercely lonely. And not only did I wish that wasn’t the case, I also wished she’d not left quite so much crap behind for someone else to clean up. The Ronco knife sets were great and all, but really . . . five sets? And if she had the money for all this crap, why was there a leaky roof? Especially when she had seventeen tubes of Putty Friend, another As Seen On TV product Maude had ordered for herself and stockpiled . . .
I knocked off cleaning a little early to cook myself a nice dinner. The stove and I were beginning to understand each other, and I wanted to take our relationship to the next level. Nothing fancy, mind you, but perhaps some chicken? A few vegetables? Could I swing some rice? We were going to find out.
After a quick shower, I headed down to the kitchen. Within minutes I had a decent amount of vegetables chopped, a pot of water simmering for rice, and a couple of chicken breasts in the oven, planning to use the extra one later in the week for lunch or in a salad. No pizza this week, no way, no sir! Time to get into a normal routine!
I opened up the windows in the kitchen, throwing the back door open wide to let in that last little bit of sunshine. The skies to the east were looking gray and the wind was beginning to kick up; it looked like we were going to get a storm. I said a silent thank-you to Ryan and Simon for tying the tarp down; the evening would be much nicer without the rain inside the house.
But the air before a storm always smelled so fresh, so I let it all in. The house was finally beginning to lose that musty closed-up smell after a week of solid cleaning. I’d poured a glass of red wine to sip while I cooked, and with the radio tuned to the oldies station, it made for a cozy night to stay in and cook.
Because I grew up in a large family, it was never a question of whether I would learn to cook or not, it was merely a question of when. For the record, I was eight when I started scrambling my own eggs and making my own toast. Cooking for one had been a bit of an adjustment, since my favorite family recipes were formulated to feed an army. But as I got older
and was single longer, I learned that there was something a little special about preparing a meal just for yourself. Setting the table for one was just as important as setting the table for fourteen. So I dug up some pretty china plates, washed them, stacked them in the kitchen, and even lit a candle in the dining room.
Pat on the back for me.
Back in the kitchen, I sizzled and stirred, adding a pinch of this and a sprinkle of that. Rice was in, garlic and onions were sautéing, and I had just added some broccoli to the pan when I heard—
Flap-flap-flap.
Cocking my head sideways, I listened again. What was that? But after a moment, all I heard was vegetables cooking, so I went back to them. Another minute went by. My chicken should be almost done now, I should check it—
Flap-flap-flap-flap
Okay, what the hell was that? My slotted spoon and I headed into the dining room—all clear. Living room? All clear as well. Was I hearing things?
The wind was beginning to really kick up, the curtains were waving in the breeze on either side of the fireplace. Maybe that was the noise I was hearing. But as soon as they were closed, I heard it again, coming from the dining room.
Flap-flap-flap.
I headed for the dining room. Dammit. What the hell was—
A bat!
It dove at me and I ran screaming out onto the front porch, slotted spoon in one hand, the other clasped over my head.
Flap-flap-flap-flap.
“Get out get out get out get out!” I screamed, stamping my foot and going through the rotten wood again. And this time? It got stuck.
“Sonofawhore!” I cursed, setting down the spoon and trying to pull my foot clear. Nope, it was stuck on something but good. “Cocksucking fuck!” I swore again. Somewhere, my mother most certainly frowned at my choice of words.
Thunder boomed nearby, and from inside the house?
Flap-flap-flap.
I instinctively ducked, even though I was out on the porch. The porch that had been trying to eat me piece by piece since I got here. I tried to calm down; getting frustrated wasn’t going to help. Think, Viv!
The Cocktail Collection Page 70