Screwdrivered (Cocktail 3)

And climbing out of the front of the Range Rover was one of my favorite people on the planet, Simon Parker. Dark hair, chiseled jaw, he was the kind of handsome everyone agreed on. No matter your type, no matter your preference, Simon had that generally agreed upon kind of good looks. And charm. A charm I was immune to romantically speaking, and always had been. But even though we had only ever been good friends, I could still appreciate a gorgeous guy. And speaking of gorgeous, his girlfriend was tall and slim and blond and stunning. The kind of girl you wanted to dislike on sight, but then she opened her mouth and she won you over. Funny, a girl’s girl, she could hold her own with Handsome over there, and that was something most women couldn’t do. Points for that in my book.

“Hey, Parker.”

“Hey, Franklin,” he said, catching me into a close hug. I patted his backside and winked at Caroline over his shoulder. I saw Mimi shoot her a glance, and Caroline just waved her off. More points. She knew she had nothing to worry about.

“Quite the spread you’ve got here, Viv,” he said, setting me down and taking in the view.

“Speaking of spread, what’s up, homeboy?” I laughed, patting his stomach. He smoothed his T-shirt over his still very flat tummy.

“It’s my girl. She bakes me pie. All the time.” He winked at Caroline, and she blushed.

“I hear you, there’s a pizza in this town that’s as good as Tony’s back home. I’ve been eating it way too much,” I said, pulling up my own shirt and smacking my still-flat tummy. “Want to run tomorrow?”

“Yeah, sure, that’d be great. I brought my bike too. There’s supposed to be some great trails near here. Have you had a chance to check any of them out?”

“Nah, don’t have my bike out here yet, I need to—Christ, where are my manners?” I asked, turning around as Simon and I were halfway up the steps. Caroline, Ryan, and Mimi were standing in a semicircle in the driveway, grinning up at our retreat toward the house. I ran back down the steps, reaching out to hug Caroline.

“Girl, I’m a terrible host. How the hell are you?”

“Great, now that I’m here. I’m dying to see this house! And of course, you know, you too.” She smiled, swatting me on the butt as she caught up to Simon.

“And you must be Mimi and Ryan, nice to meet you!” I said, shaking both their hands. Ryan started to say something, but Mimi was nearly bursting out of her skin.

“I heard a rumor that when you inherited this house, it was filled with all kinds of things! Things and stuff and very unorganized, is that right?” she asked, dancing from one foot to the other.

“Um, well, yeah, that’s true. I’ve gotten some of the bedrooms upstairs started but there’s still junk everywhere and—”

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” she chanted, pumping her fist in the air and skipping up the steps, almost plowing Caroline over in her haste to get inside the house.

“She on the crack?” I asked her fiancé, who laughed out loud.

“She’s a professional organizer. Your house will be like crack to her.”

“Then she’s going to need rehab after this,” I warned, leading him and the rest of his friends inside. Where Mimi had already gone. Where she was turning circles, cheeks already pink with excitement over the stacks and piles crying out for attention. And someone with a tool belt full of labels and black Sharpies.

Once inside, I had this sudden sense of . . . unease? Shame? I saw the house the way I did that first day, so full of clutter and crap. And now that there were people in it, my default reaction was almost embarrassment, like I was the one who had done this. I could only imagine how Aunt Maude had felt, if she was overwhelmed with all this stuff and had no clue where to start.

But they all seemed to take everything in stride. The guys went immediately to the back window, looking out at the view and exclaiming over the height of the waves. But the girls were staring, wonder apparent in their expressions. That made me happy.

Mimi was back to bouncing, her eyes lighting on every pile, every stack, every opportunity to restore order and balance. Caroline was taking in every detail, every spindly thingie, every woodwork dealio. Every knickknack that looked old and original, she’d zeroed in on it immediately.

“Viv, this house is incredible,” she breathed, running her fingers down the intricately carved bannister.

“Right? I spent a summer out here when I was a kid, and I never forgot it,” I replied, scooping up an errant tube sock and putting it back into the bag it’d jumped from. “The house isn’t quite how I remember it, but it still has the feel, you know?”

“Can I see the rest?” she asked, and Mimi popped her head around the corner from the dining room.

“Yeah, can we see the rest?” she echoed, holding one of the Johnny Mathis records.

“Of course, come on,” I replied, waving the boys forward as we headed into the kitchen. And as I walked them through the house, they all reacted differently to different things.

Caroline almost had to be hosed down when she saw the stove. “There’s a vintage Magic Chef stove? Are you kidding me?”

Mimi almost bounced her little feet right off when she saw the stacks and stacks of old Life magazines. “These go back to the forties, like the 1940s!”

They all had the standard response to the legless knight—“weird”—and the claw-foot tub—“awesome!” The girls were reduced to dreamy sighs when they saw my bedroom and the view I woke up to every morning. The breeze was blowing off the Pacific today, the water calm and the bluest blue. Lacy curtains flapped in the window, freshly laundered and white as snow. All this room needed now was a coat of paint and—