Screwdrivered

by Alice Clayton

  “You know, it’s not that he’s uptight. I don’t want you to get the wrong idea about him. He’s just . . .”

  “Rigid? Unrelenting? Stick up his ass?”

  “Studious. Methodical. Organized,” she said with a pointed glance.

  “Okay, okay, if you say so. But from what I’ve seen—”

  “From what I’ve seen, you can’t keep your brain from scrambling around Hank. What’s that about?” she asked before I knew what was happening. I crammed a forkful of hash browns into my mouth and made a show of chewing. She laughed out loud, pouring me and everyone else at the counter a hotter upper. Any time she made a move toward my end, I shoveled in another mouthful.

  This thing with Hank had turned me inside out. I’d never acted like this in front of a guy before. But I was now living out my own romance novel, right? I mean, that’s what this had all been about. The mysterious phone call in the middle of the night, the move across the country, the cowboy riding a horse on the beach without a shirt on? Who has a tough exterior, but inside, down deep, deeeeeep, there resides a heart of gold? Right?

  Was he the one? The man who would finally say those words I’d never before heard? Had I finally met my I Love You Man? My instincts were telling me yes, in fact I had.

  Patience, Viv. Peel that onion. Reveal the layers. Anyone with a chest like that is worth waiting for. Worth sneezing for.

  When the plate was metaphorically licked clean, I waved her over. She came quickly, eager to dish.

  “Okay, I’ll bite. Tell me all about Hank.”

  “Hmm, let’s see. I’ve known him about as long as Clark, he’s actually a year older than I am. Played football with John; they used to pal around back in the day. Hank is . . . hmmm . . .”

  Handsome we knew. Incredible to look at was a given. Here came the real insight into the enigma that was Hank. Sweet? Kind? Passionate? Hung?

  Get a grip, Viv.

  “Simple,” she said, setting down my check.

  “That’s it? Simple?”

  “Mm-hmm. That’s all I’ll say for now,” she replied mysteriously, and walked away.

  “Simple?” I yelled after her, causing everyone to turn and stare at me. I stared them all down. “Morning Mr. Martin.” I laid my bills on the counter and sauntered out the front door.

  Back at the house I spent some more time in the second bedroom, steadily making my way down the hallway. I was leaving Aunt Maude’s room for last; I couldn’t even imagine taking that on yet. And besides, the Legless Knight seemed to have things pretty well under control in there. I kept the laundry moving, washing sheets for the bed even though I was pretty sure I’d picked my bedroom. As I cleaned and organized, divided piles, and sorted through years of accumulations, it felt better to be able to walk by two bedrooms that looked livable.

  Clean white cotton sheets now covered the bed in the second bedroom. I’d washed them twice and added extra softener so they didn’t have that folded-in-the-linen-closet-for-years look to them. I’d lucked out in a hall closet and found stacks of lovely old quilts, folded neatly and encased in Aunt Maude’s favorite storage container, Hefty bags. They’d done their job, though; the quilts were in great shape. Now the old iron bed was dressed with a simple but very pretty nine-block piece in lemony yellows and dusty pinks. Not my taste, but chrome and black leather would be out of place here. In this house, quilts just felt right. And if I was being honest with myself, I liked the look more than I thought I would. I scrubbed the wood floors not only in the second bedroom, but down the hall as well. Slowly but surely, clean spots were starting to take over. I’d nearly used up my meager cleaning supplies, though, which meant another run into town.

  I consolidated Post-its and to-do lists from all over the house and made one big master list. I needed to hit the grocery store once more, lay in supplies for the weekend. Simon and his gang weren’t staying here, but I still wanted to have some snacks and drinks on hand.

  I made a cursory pass through the kitchen drawers, looking for the key to the Bel Air, but found nothing. No matter, I’d add that to the list of questions I would be asking Mr. Montgomery. I was meeting him after my shopping trip.

  I drove into town, thankful I had a rental car but still not entirely sure how long I’d actually need it. If I was going to live here, I’d have to either bring my car out from Philadelphia or sell it and buy something here.

  Or you could drive the Blue Bomber 2.0.

  In an instant, I saw that car driving up the coast, top down like it should always be, whitewalls shining. The woman behind the wheel had dark curly hair, not unlike mine perhaps, tied back by a cheery aquamarine scarf. There was a song playing on the radio, something beboppy and doo-woppy, something designed to make your fingers tap out the rhythm on the steering wheel and sing along, even if you don’t know the words. The woman pulled the car over to admire the view. To the left of the car, the Pacific. To the right of the woman? A man.

  A man also designed to make you tap out a rhythm, on his back. His strong and magnificent back, skin of the most golden velvet, sheened with sweat earned not from a hard day’s work, although he was certainly no stranger to that. No, this sweat was of the sweet kind, brought forth from each pore as a testament to this man’s pure and unadulterated sexual prowess. His pulsating pillar of passion tall and proud, like a flagpole on the Fourth of July. But the fireworks hadn’t begun yet. Not even close . . .

  Um. Yeah. I was losing it. Cowboy Hank was doing a number on me . . .

  And that number was sixty-nine—

  Stop it!

  I went into the store and busied myself with choosing cleaning products, and damn me if Mr. Clean didn’t look particularly fetching. I slapped myself with a new sponge and kept on walking.

  Stocked up and loaded for clean, I dropped off my supplies at the house and headed back into town for my meeting with Mr. Montgomery. He’d agreed to meet me at John’s, the restaurant I’d been getting my pizza fix from. Sliding into a booth, I waved a hello to Jessica’s boyfriend behind the bar.

  “Ms. Franklin, delightful to see you again,” Mr. Montgomery said. He nodded toward John. “Looks like you’re making friends.”

  “Oh, I’m a regular gal about town.” I grinned, scanning the menu. I needed something light today; I’d been eating like a truck driver. “Oh look, a Philly cheesesteak. On whole wheat? Blasphemous.”

  I shook my head. One thing you can’t get anywhere but back home was a cheesesteak. Or a good hoagie. When the waitress came by, I squelched my cheesesteak argument and ordered something healthy. A cheeseburger. The healthy? I didn’t add bacon.

  We kibitzed for a few moments about the house, the weather, the town.

  “So, you said you had some questions about the will? What can I help you with?” he asked, folding his hands across the table.

  “Yeah, a few. The car in the garage, any idea last time it’s been run?”

  “I’m pretty sure your aunt kept the Bel Air tuned up; she loved that car. Though she didn’t drive it the last few years, Mr. Higgins drove her into town in it a few times in the last year.”

  “Mr. Higgins?”

  “The man she hired to help out around the house and barn.”

  “Oh, Hank! Let’s talk about him. Who exactly is paying for the cowboy?”

  “The cowboy?”

  “Yeah, Fabio. Mr. Man. Whose payroll is he on?”

  “Ah, yes. Maude provided for him in the will as well, provided he stays on to tend to the animals. She did love her animals. Used to have more of them, you know, but now it’s just the two horses. And the chickens, of course.”

  “Yeah, about those chickens. Who owns them? Do I?”

  “Yes.”

  “And the horses? Paul and Paula? Are they mine?”

  “Yes.”

  “So, who does Hank work for?”

 
“Well, technically Maude.”

  “So how exactly is that going to work out long term?” I asked, taking a slow draw on my cherry Coke.

  “That’s up to you and Mr. Higgins to figure out.”

  “Not helping me here. If they’re my chickens, can I use the eggs? He takes care of them, but they belong to me, so who gets the eggs?”

  “Interesting question. I didn’t expect to be debating the chicken versus the egg argument today.” He laughed, and I frowned.

  “Glad I could amuse. Do I get the eggs?”

  “In my professional opinion?”

  “Uh-huh,” I said, then bit into my burger. “Oh mah gaw.”

  “Are you all right, Ms. Franklin?”

  I nodded, unable to speak through the best burger I’d ever tasted.

  I caught John’s eye and waved him over. In the time it took him to get to the table, I ate three more bites.

  “What’s up, Viv? Hey, Mr. Montgomery, how are you?”

  “Good to see you, John. How’s business?” he asked.

  “This burger is so good, it’s stupid,” I burst out. “I thought California was supposed to be full of vegans sprinkling sprouts on everything.”

  “That’s at the restaurant across the street. You detox there, you come here when you want real food.”

  “I love you,” I said, stroking my burger like a kitten.

  “Me or the cheeseburger?”

  “I can no longer separate the two.”

  “I won’t tell Jessica.” He laughed.

  “You two chat about business. I’m eating,” I replied, gesturing between him and Mr. Montgomery. As the two men talked, I demolished my lunch. I could feel my pants stretching, I needed to run tomorrow. As I ate, I listened to the two men talk. Mr. Montgomery really seemed to have his finger on the pulse of everything that went on in this small town. I assumed he lived out of town; his firm was in San Francisco.

  When John went back to work, and the burger was nothing more than a memory, I looked at Mr. Montgomery. “How in the world do you know so much about this town?”

  “I was born here, and I lived here for years.”

  “But isn’t your firm in San Francisco?” I asked, confused.

  “It is. And I live there mostly. But I’ve got a house here just outside of town, and while it used to be for vacations, as I get closer to retirement I find myself back here more often.”

  “I can certainly see why. The people are great, and the landscape, it’s kind of awesome.”

  “The people are great, although I hear you had a run-in with Mr. Barrow?”

  “How in the hell did you hear about that?” I asked, incredulous. Seriously, how did word spread so fast?

  “I have ears, Ms. Franklin. And he can be a great help to you, setting up a new life here. No one knows more about this town than he does.”

  “He sure likes to remind me of that. But don’t worry, I’ve got some help of my own on the way.”

  “That sounds mysterious.” He chuckled. “I do think perhaps you should talk with him again. He really is only concerned with maintaining the integrity of the house—a concern I’m sure you share.”

  “I do, of course I do. But does he have to be so . . . so . . . I don’t know . . . librariany about it?”

  “Ms. Franklin, are there any other questions you have about the will?” he asked patiently, not without some amusement in his expression.

  “Well, yes, actually. There are some issues with the house, issues that Clark seems to think are no big deal. But when there’s rain falling on your head in the middle of the night, they tend to be a big deal to the one with the wet face, you know?”

  “I can imagine.” He smiled. “And you’re wanting to get the roof fixed, I’m sure.”

  “Well, that’s the thing. If I stay, the house needs a lot of work. And he—”

  “You’re concerned that Clark doesn’t want you making any changes to the house, yes?”

  “His exact words were, ‘You can’t change a thing in this house without going through me. Go ahead and check with Mr. Montgomery, he’ll tell you the same thing. Not one thing, Vivian,’ and he even pointed at me. So tell me the truth, is he right?”

  “It’s complicated, Ms. Franklin,” he began, clasping his hands across the table from me. “Your aunt was a bit eccentric, as I’m sure you are aware.”

  I thought of the dolls, the Mathis records, and the tube socks. Eccentric was an interesting choice of words.

  “She wasn’t always wise about money, and some years she had trouble keeping up some of the maintenance on the house, as you’ve no doubt noticed. She applied for and was given a grant from the historical society for some basic upkeep. She was able to continue to pay for some things on her own, her basic needs and keeping on some of the animals. She was able to continue to employ Mr. Higgins. But some of the money wasn’t spent in the wisest of ways.”

  I thought of the dolls, the Mathis albums, the tube socks. Not to mention the suit of armor. Wow.

  “There are updates that need to be made to the house, Ms. Franklin, and I’m sure if you decide to stay, you and Mr. Barrow will be able to come to some kind of agreement to ensure that not only are your great-aunt’s wishes carried out, and the integrity of the house preserved, but that you also don’t have to endure a leaky roof.”

  I thought for a moment. “So, the bottom line is if I decide to make some changes, the librarian is involved. Yes?”

  “Yes, up to a point.”

  I leaned across the table. “I’m going to need to know exactly where that line is.”

  chapter six

  I pushed myself harder, lungs burning and legs quivering, up the last crest of the hill. I laser locked on the top, only yards away, using my last burst of energy to crash through the trees and reach the top. Letting my feet slow down, I stood with my hands on my hips, breathing in the sweet air this high up and gazing down at the mountain. What a view.

  I’d used the map Jessica had made me of some of the running trails nearby, selecting a doozy this morning. I hadn’t run since I left Philadelphia, and my muscles weren’t happy about it. Matter of fact, they were livid, and they chanted as I ran up the trail:

  Pizza

  Cheeseburger

  Pizza

  Pizza

  Beer

  Cheeseburger

  Worth it?

  Worth it?

  “Totally,” I muttered, kicking my leg back and giving it a good stretch, leaning against a tree trunk for balance. I’d run in the state park, up into the headlands. The Pacific spanned the entirety of my field of vision, mixing with the Big River as it emptied into the ocean. Named for the redwoods that stood along its banks when this part of California was being settled, the Big River played a role not only in the development of the land, but in the gold rush and the timber rush, the majestic giants being cut down for the great building expansion. Now protected, it was a beautiful river, popular with canoers and kayakers.

  Not a bad idea, I thought, wondering if there was a canoe hidden away somewhere in the house. It was certainly possible. After my meeting with Mr. Montgomery, I spent the rest of the afternoon and evening finishing up in the second bedroom, and beginning to tackle the third. There were items of a more personal nature in that room, letters and postcards that Maude had accumulated over a lifetime. I also found tax records and old bills of sale in an ancient accordion file, amazingly orderly. These would come in handy if I ended up staying and—

  Of course you’re staying. Was there really ever any doubt?

  I chewed at my thumbnail, contemplating. I was staying.

  A bubble of laughter made its way up my throat and out of my mouth before I could even stop it, one after another, until I sounded like a hyena on top of this mountain.

  “I’m staying!” I sai
d out loud, listening to the words fill the space. “Cool!”

  I fist pumped, whirled about to run back down the mountain, and crashed into a sweaty chest.

  My fist flew out again by instinct, right into the nose of Mr. Clark Barrow.

  He staggered backward with a moan, his hands flying up to his face. “Good lord, Vivian!” he yelled, blood beginning to appear.

  “Fuck! Clark! What the hell!” I yelled back, grabbing his arms and trying to peel his hands back from his nose so I could take a look. “Are you crazy? Sneaking up behind someone like that? Here, sit down so I can check your nose,” I said, taking him by the elbow and pushing him down onto a boulder.

  “Are you crazy? You were talking to yourself on top of a mountain. Don’t do that—ow!” he said as I pried his fingers apart. I’d seen several broken noses in my time—softball, field hockey, you name it.

  Fuck, I was talking to myself on top of a mountain. Dammit. “Okay, I was, but—oh hold still, will you?” I finally succeeded in pulling his hands back and getting a good look at what I’d done. Yup. I’d socked him a good one. Shit. “We need to get you to a doctor; I think it’s broken.”

  “Oh, you think so?” he asked angrily, glaring at me.

  He started to get up, and I leaned in. “Let me help you.”

  “You’d help me right off a cliff,” he snapped, pulling away from me.

  “Oh, would you settle down, just let me help you,” I snapped back, turning him back down the trail, instead of higher up like he was heading. I pulled off my T-shirt and folded it into a square pad. “Here, hold this on your nose.”

  He looked at me, bare on top except for my sports bra, and his eyes widened. Raising an eyebrow, I looked back at him. As he held the T-shirt to his nose, I checked him out fully. Long and lean, he’d been running in just shorts. By the looks of it, he’d been a runner for a long time. And maybe doing some crunches and push-ups too. His body was strong, defined but not overly so. He had a small patch of hair on his chest, that led down a bit to his, ahem, shorts area. He had runner’s legs, powerful and tanned. In fact, his whole body was tanned now that I looked at it. And I was looking at it.