Screwdrivered (Cocktail 3)

“Shit, don’t ever call her that. She’s an interior designer. Why? What’s up?”

“I need some professional advice. You guys want to take a road trip up the coast?”

I hung up a few minutes later, my grin wide and toothy. I had backup rolling in this weekend.

Chapter five

“So let me get this straight. You inherited this house, and it’s on the historical register in Mendocino County, correct?” Caroline asked.

“Correct.”

“Not surprising. Most of the town is on the historical register.”

“So I’ve been told,” I seethed through gritted teeth. I was on the phone later that night with Simon’s girlfriend, Caroline, whom I’d met at the high school reunion I’d attended last December. She seemed cool, and Simon was totally over the moon for her, something I never thought I’d see. “So is he right? I can’t make changes to it?”

“Can’t say yes or no at this point; let me do a little research. Typically, if a house is on the historical register but hasn’t received any kind of federal funding, then the owner is free and clear. But don’t quote me on that. Do you know if your aunt ever received any kind of grants or anything?”

“I have no idea. I can try to find out, though. I’m meeting with her attorney tomorrow.”

“Okay, sit tight and I’ll do a little digging on my end. Who’s the guy that’s causing so much trouble?”

“The librarian. Who knew?”

“Sounds interesting. The whole thing sounds interesting, actually. I love that area! Those old homes are fantastic; I can’t wait to see it,” she gushed.

“I’ll be glad to see you too,” I replied dryly, and she caught herself.

“I mean, we’re coming to see you, of course,” she said. “But the house, holy shit! You said it had four bedrooms, is that right?” she asked, and I could hear Simon telling her to wrap it up. I laughed, and let her gush another moment before she said good night, handing the phone back to Simon.

Apparently one of Caroline’s best friends had a vacation home in the area, so another couple was traveling up with them. Frankly I didn’t care who the hell showed up, as long as someone could get Clark off my back.

“Viv? You still there?” I heard Simon ask.

“Yep, sorry. So, Friday afternoon?”

“Yeah, we’ll try to get out of the city as early as we can, but with traffic it’ll probably be late afternoon before I get up there. You want us to come straight to the house or—”

“Sure, just come on over and then we can head into town for dinner. The place is still a mess, not exactly ready for a house party.”

“No problem, I’ll call you when we’re on the way. And, Viv?”

“Yeah?”

“It’ll be good to see you. I’m glad you called us.”

“Christ, Simon, are you an ‘us’ now?” I teased, hearing him sigh into the phone.

“Nice. I’m coming to help and you’re busting my balls?” he asked, and I heard Caroline in the background chime in with, “No busting the balls, they’re great balls!”

“Oh, for God’s sake, good night!” I said, hanging up.

Simon had gone through hell when we were in high school, losing both his parents in a car accident only a few months before graduation. As a result, he’d left Philadelphia and never looked back. I was glad he had someone as great as Caroline seemed to be, especially after bouncing around from woman to woman for years. She seemed to keep him on his toes.

And speaking of toes, I was ready to get off mine and have some dinner. Awhile after Jessica had left, I’d headed into town to grab some things from the grocery store. I’d shopped in a frenzy, still worked up after the Battle of the Balustrade. As a result I came home with things like three jars of peanut butter, but no jelly. But I did have salad fixings, so I used those to compose my dinner. I ate on the back porch, watching the waves roll in. They calmed me down: the tension that had been in my body since this afternoon all began to leak out as I relaxed while I ate. I could see the chickens still pecking about in the yard, not yet ready to head into their coop for bed. I knew literally nothing about chickens. Except that I liked to eat them. And eggs. Hey, did I have access to fresh eggs now?

I was going to have a chat with Hank the next time I saw him about what exactly he did and what exactly he was being paid to do. Wait, was I paying him? I added it to my mental list of things to talk to Mr. Montgomery about. I’d called him after getting off the phone with Simon earlier, and he’d agreed to meet me in town tomorrow to go over a few more things.

In no particular hurry after dinner to head inside, I wandered around a bit in the backyard. Staying away from the barn, in case Hank was right and I was in fact spooking the animals, I poked around in the old kitchen garden. I had very clear memories of when I’d visited before and seen row after row of raised beds, just off the side of the house beyond the kitchen. Aunt Maude was big into home remedies, the more natural the better. She always had beds filled with lavender, comfrey, calendula, echinacea. If you could find it at a health food store, you could also find it in her backyard. Of course all your better herbs were represented: You had your parsley, your sage, your rosemary, and several varieties of thyme, the lemon scented being my favorite. And the most gorgeous and well-tended vegetable garden I’ve ever seen. Before growing heirlooms was something everyone was talking about, she had her seeds she’d saved year after year. Carrots, tomatoes, poles of bean runners that I swear grew fast enough you could see them move, and blackberry bushes thick with purply fruit.