Screwdrivered (Cocktail #3)

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—

“We should do a creamy ivory on the walls, accented by this stunning woodwork, which will need to be restored of course. We can pick up the deep green from this quilt and create some custom throw pillows, and I’m thinking a deep plush rug, the kind you lose your slippers in. And then over the bed we can—”

“Babe, easy,” Simon said, slipping his arms around Caroline’s waist as she spun every which way in the room, clearly seeing an entirely new room in her head. She turned beet red, looking my way.

“I’m so sorry, it’s just a house like this, with this much natural beauty, it’s amazing, Viv. Truly amazing,” she said, smiling genuinely at me.

“It is amazing, I’m glad you think so. But it needs a shit ton of work or it will literally fall down around my ears,” I replied. “You should see how much the roof leaks, or the rotten wood on the porch, or the world of scary that’s in the basement. I’m scared to death to turn the boiler on once it gets chilly at night. It’s like The Shining down there! And wait till you see how bad the—”

“Yeah yeah yeah, we’ll get to all that. That’s what I’m here for. For now, we just want to enjoy the weekend and your new house. This is so exciting!” Caroline said, reaching out and squeezing my shoulder. She had a strong grip. Simon must be happy. “And I want to hear all about this librarian.”

I laughed, escorted everyone back down the stairs and into the kitchen, where I had cold beer, wine, and snacks waiting. We all grabbed something to drink and nibble on, and ended up on the back porch, each nestled into our own rocking chairs. Watching the breakers roll in and the chickens scratch around, I entertained my first guests.


After having a few drinks, we decided to walk into town rather than drive to get some dinner. It was a gorgeous night out, the sunset a perfect backdrop for a stroll. And as we walked, two couples plus me, I was struck with a sudden sense of longing. Not for a roll in the hay; not for a quickie up against a barn door, although those thoughts were tantalizing I’ll admit. No, tonight I was longing to be part of a couple out for a stroll.

I wanted to have the easy comfort of a lingering hand on my waist, a gentle touch on the back of my neck, a whispered word. A hand to hold. I loved my romance novels, loved the passion and the chase. But the part I loved the most? Was when the hero took his woman into his arms and kissed her reverently.

Sigh.

I kicked absently at the gravel as we walked into town, the group’s easy laughter bringing me back to the present. Where I had new friends and one old, albeit three hours away. I saw the lights of John’s twinkling in the distance, and my mouth watered. Pizza.

As it turns out, Mimi’s parents have a house in Mendocino, so she was familiar not only with John’s the restaurant, but with John himself.

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