Ugh.
“Mimi, I’m going to take a few minutes to get my notes together. Why don’t you come on down and help me,” Caroline said, and Mimi danced down the stairs.
As she passed me, she said, “I redid your linen closet and the hall closet, and your aunt’s clothes you’d piled up are now in boxes by color and season. You’re welcome.”
They disappeared around the corner, and I looked back up at Clark. “Did you know my aunt very well?”
“Somewhat. I helped her get a grant a few years ago, which she used to fix some things around here. But she kind of withdrew in recent years.” He gestured to some of the clutter I still hadn’t dealt with. “I didn’t know about all this. It wasn’t this bad the last time I was here.”
“Sounds like no one knew it was this bad. I hadn’t been here since I was a kid, and it definitely didn’t look like this back then.”
“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.