“What used to be here?”
“Plywood table covered with a bright table cloth.” I replied.
“Well, it’s wonderful.” Ben said. His eyes were fixed on the woodwork, the crown molding, the bead board – all original.
“Thank you.” I led him through the downstairs rooms, he sipped his wine and contemplated the rooms as if he were visiting a museum of great importance.
We strolled back into the kitchen.
“There you are, dinner is almost ready.” Grandma’s face lit up when she saw Ben again. But Ben was equally enthusiastic and I suspected it wasn’t because of me.
“I know what this is!” He greeted Prue again.
“Pasta?” I asked.
“No.” He took the salad bowl from Prue and brought it over to the kitchen table, deftly avoiding the shoebox of aluminum foil and the basket of magazines filled with colorful pictures.
“This is the Claim Jump House.” Ben announced, as if he had just discovered a gold vein.
“What do you mean this is the Claim Jump House?” I wasn’t sure I liked the reverence in his tone.
“I heard about this in school. Kids spoke of it the way kids talk about Burning Man now. This was the place to go in the 70s. But you had to know someone who knew someone. And appreciate the finer things in life,” he concluded.
“Like what kind of finer things?” I asked suspiciously.
“I produced the best shit in the state,” Prue said with satisfaction and sat down. “You may serve me.”
Oh god. I dumped the pasta onto a Blue Willow pattern plate and the salad onto a white Corelle plate and pushed them both towards my grandmother.
No wonder my mother was so uptight about pot smoking.
“I thought it was just Uncle Steve and Uncle Mike.” I protested weakly, but I already heard the answer in her tone.
“Your uncles were mostly in charge of the growing, drying, all that stuff. We dried in the barn.”
“Great.” I sat down and tried to focus on my food.
“So Ben, you’re a Stanford boy?” Grandma dug into her food as if this all was common knowledge and no big deal.
I took two more sips of wine. Half the glass emptied.
“Philosophy major.”
Grandma nodded. “Very practical. So what do you do?”
“Carpenter, handy man by trade.” He twirled a forkful of pasta and popped it into his mouth.
“Good, we need carpenters more than we do philosophers.”
“Especially around here.” Ben glanced around the kitchen, noting, I was sure, the many, many things that needed fixing. I didn’t want to go into it.
“So you knew about this place?” I ventured. It was a safer subject than the one he brought up earlier. I was happy to pursue this newest distraction: my grandmother.
“Everyone at Stanford knew about this place, it was a legend. When your mom gave me the address, I was pretty sure I recognized it, but, well, wow.” He turned to Prue, “thank you for inviting me to stay.”
Prue toasted him with her wine. “My pleasure, any friend of Allison’s…” she trailed off and just grinned at me.
My mother gave him the address. Oh crap.
At Ben’s request, Prue regaled him with the history of the house and her life here with Grandpa. I knew she was avoiding the pot question and I was not going to let her off the hook. But for a few precious moments I wallowed in her version of life in Claim Jump. I was not as gullible as Ben of course, I was very familiar with the dark side or rather, my mother’s interpretation of events. And I had my own memories. None of the versions meshed perfectly. No one’s past was exactly the right version.
But it was the best conversation I had since arriving in Claim Jump. Now what the hell does that mean?
“Well, I’m exhausted.” Prue finished. “I can’t stay up all night and not have it affect me the next day.”
“All night?” Ben asked. He glanced at me then Grandma.
“We couldn’t really sleep during the fire last night.” I explained, which made it sound more dire than even the CNN reports.
“Had to send Brick and Raul up to water the roof,” Grandma said cheerfully. “But all that’s fine now. Allison, thank you for putting the lock back on the greenhouse. I’ll have get a new one tomorrow.” She said brightly. “Good night you two.”
“We’ll clean up.” I offered to her retreating back. She waved that offer away. “Or just pile it in the sink for tomorrow.”
“Good night.” Ben called after her.
“She didn’t assign me a room.” Ben commented softly as Prue headed up to her room. Which was located on the second floor. Right below my room. In an old house, that is an unfortunate positioning of rooms, floors creek, sound carries though the heating vents, beds rattle.
“I’m guessing she’s testing the Singleton woman curse.” I said absently.
“What?”
“I’ll tell you later.”
We cleaned up without a word between us. The house settled into the cool evening, creaking and sighing. I heard Grandma moving around upstairs.
“Why did you drive up here?” I finally asked.
“Have your computer?”
I gestured with my head to the end of the kitchen table. He flipped it on, tapped into CNN and without another word turned the screen to me.
“Disaster in the Sierra Foothills. Fifteen confirmed dead. Hundreds missing.”
“The disaster on Red Dog Road is still being sorted out.” The camera lingered lovingly on the burned out trucks and SUVs, a doll’s head on the road, that kind of thing.
“I’m here because I also remembered how close Marsh Avenue is to Red Dog Road.”
He looked around the kitchen and I knew what he was thinking. “This would go up in minutes.”
“No kidding. But we hosed down the roof.”
“Oh yes, that’s helpful against a raging forest fire,” he said sarcastically.
“It was all we had.”
“Why didn’t you follow the news?” he demanded. “And get out?”
“There was no getting out.” I stripped off my dish washing gloves – the best way to preserve a manicure – and tossed them under the sink.
“And if you watched more of CNN, as we did, you’d know that too. Our only choice was to stand and fight.”
“That’s pretty pioneer of you.”
“The women in my family are not pioneers, we do lunch.” I retorted. “And you still haven’t answered my question.”
“And you haven’t answered mine.” He countered. He closed the screen on my laptop and moved towards me. I didn’t dodge or move away from him, I just waited. There were more romantic spots than the kitchen, under unflattering florescent lights, but he was here. I was here.
He pushed me against the sink and covered my mouth with his. Now here was a kiss, passion, anger, desire, all those hot words. I raised my arms and pressed against him. Matthew kisses were antiseptic. Ben was dirty and messy. And marvelous. I had missed him. I was more than glad he was here, even if he was angry with me.
Where could we go? Not in the house, too much noise.
“Come on, I know a place.”
“Not your car I hope.” He whispered in my ear.
“I’m too old for that.” I whispered back. I pulled Ben outside and dragged him to the barn. There was a small residence door that was completely out of place against the red siding, not something anyone worried about. I tested the door; it opened.
“Come on, we can, used the apartment above the barn. My ballet instructor use to live here.”
“You took ballet?”
I stopped on the narrow steps that lead to the top floor studio. “Hey, you don’t have to sound so surprised.”
He lifted his hands in supplication. “Sorry. I’m just here to make sure you’re alive.”
“I’m alive.” I started back up the stairs and he followed.
“Yes you are.”
But the apartm
ent was not such a brilliant idea.
I didn’t dare flip on the lights; I didn’t want Prue to see what I was up to. I expected to feel the hot closed air created by weeks of hot summer afternoons. The heavy heat was actually part of my plan. There was something sexy about a hot still atmosphere. But instead we were greeted by cool outdoor air. Windows were open, chairs moved around. I moved through the living space to the tiny kitchen that faced the back yard and flipped on the light under the cabinet.
“Someone lives here.” Ben said.
I looked around dismayed. “Yes, someone does.”
“That makes sense, it’s an apartment isn’t it?”
“Yes, but Prue hadn’t said anything about someone here. Brick and Raul are in the guesthouse, and no one but me is staying in the main house,. I mean right now. And I haven’t seen anyone go in and out of the apartment. I don’t understand.”
Clothes were jumbled on the bed. The nightstand was covered with empty boxes of over the counter medicines for allergy and cold. I blinked in the light as I tried to adjust. Someone, who? Doesn’t matter who, the discovery was killing my mood.
“Come on, let’s get out of here.” I turned off the kitchen light and Ben and I clamored down and out back into the dark yard.
“Well, what now, my dear?”
The dark was good for us. Ben pulled me to him and I admit, I was happy to merge our assets. I kissed him. He kissed me. We melted together and despite my exhaustion I had enough energy to insist that we at least use the chaise lounge as the ground was damp.
“Right here on the patio? Does your grandmother have motion detecting lights?” He whispered into my hair.
“No, I wanted to get her some, but she said the deer would set them off.”
“Good.”
We didn’t spend the night outside, in fact, once that last burst of energy enveloped me, I wasn’t very good for much of anything let alone a spontaneous camping experience. Ben helped me back into the house. We quietly made our way to my bedroom where Ben had a chance to experience my old crappy mattress first hand.
It never felt so good, and I hadn’t slept so well in days.
I woke up alone, but I could hear my grandmother’s voice and Ben’s answering rumble. It was reassuring. I lounged for a bit, then glanced at the clock.
Ten o’clock!
I rolled out of bed and made my way downstairs to the coffee.
“So what do you want to do today little Miss Sunshine?” Ben toasted me with his coffee. He held the red mug.
An ambulance, the siren silent, sped up the street.
“How many have gone up?” I asked, accidentally sipping the coffee before pouring milk in. I made a face, Ben laughed.
“It’s the same one, they’re picking up the bodies,” Prue said.
I shivered. “This isn’t a good place.” I poured in the half and half.
“See,” Prue continued her conversation with Ben. “I know that the city attorney is behind this, why ask about the money now? Why worry about what I’m growing on county property? There’s something else going on, but no one will listen to an eighty-year-old woman, no one takes the elderly seriously.”
I thought back to two men who ended a sixty year grudge for sixty years in a wave of violence.
“Sometimes we take you seriously.” I assured her.
“You know, this attorney has been around for a while, but never seems to do anything. Grandpa would say that he couldn’t find his ass with a ten man working party.”
“Did he do corporate work?” Ben asked.
“Have you met him?” Grandma asked.
I shook my head. I knew she meant the attorney not my grandfather. I had met some charming and not so charming people in my few days here but I had not come face to face with this infamous attorney.
The ambulance made another trip down the street followed by two tow trucks dragging burnt vehicle carcasses behind them.
“Look, let’s get out of here.” I suggested. “Grandma, do you want to come to the river with us? I’ll take you to the North Fork.”
“Maybe that would be a good idea.” She admitted. “All this traffic is getting on my nerves.”
It was agreed. We took Ben’s truck since it would sustain less damage on the narrow roads than my car. We took a completely different route that is not even worth describing because it takes a good forty-five minutes to get there. The North Fork features a flat parking area, and an easy beach where the river widens and curves that is perfect for small children and grandmothers. Fortunately the weekdays are pretty quiet, the only people under the trees are locals. Unfortunately two of the locals were Danny and Jimmy.
“Don’t you people ever work?” I demanded.
“Can’t do anything up at Red Dog until they clear out the fire and the hot spots.” Danny replied. Jimmy nodded agreement.
“How’s your house?” I asked, and who would know to douse it or even search for the bodies?
He shrugged, eyeing Ben suspiciously. And I thought his expression was clouded when he looked at Matthew. Deliver me from the jealous male.
Ben settled the ice chest, chair, towels and my grandmother and then sauntered over to us.
“House is fine.” Danny said slowly.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Danny, this is Ben Stone.”
“Hi,” Ben held out his hand with enough authority that Danny didn’t have any choice but to take it.
“I’m here on vacation,” Ben explained. “Allison and I worked together in the Bay Area. What do you do?”
“Construction.” Jimmy said shortly. “What do you do?”
“I’m an inspector – we’re in the same business.” Ben said pleasantly.
I tried not to glance at him. Inspector? He’s a handyman, a good one, but nothing as highly placed as a building inspector. If he were, we might have a future together. My whole body involuntarily twitched at the thought, but I suppressed the sensation.
Prue waved cheerfully from her beach chair. “Danny Timmons! Come and say hello to an old woman.”
“Once she’s down, she doesn’t get up until we leave,” I explained to Danny.
“Oh sure Mrs. Singleton.” Danny nodded to us, spoke briefly with Grandma and then moved upstream without a backward glance.
“So, how long since you two slept together?” Ben said oh-so-casually.
“Long time ago.” I replied oh-so-easily.
I was a bit embarrassed, but only because Danny had looked so much better when we were an item. And now, well that’s just how shallow I can be. I studied my nails noting they needed a fill.
“What’s up river?” Ben asked.
“More water.”
We wadded up stream, past Danny and Jimmy and up to a lonely spot, a small beach, newly carved out during last winter’s storms. It was the perfect beach because it was surrounded by blackberries and poison oak. The tangled vines offered seclusion and privacy. No one would come across us by land. And we were safe from anyone coming from the water. Unless Danny or Jimmy waded upstream after us.
But they gave me a break and didn’t follow us. And the sex was perfect again, albeit a little sandy. It occurred to me that sex could be great even if a girl isn’t high or drunk. Really, that can happen.
I rinsed off and slipped on my clothes, but didn’t feel like returning to the main beach. Why had Danny visited Prue? Did he do this on a regular basis? It didn’t seem like a regular visit. And who was living over the barn? And did Prue even know about it? I could just ask, but for some reason I hadn’t had the courage to bring it up. And Matthew’s behavior was bothering me as well.
And my clients are thrilled with the accepted offer – Tony was inspecting, I checked my watch - today. That should make me happy.
“Why do you have such ambivalence towards your mother?” Ben asked aimlessly, at least his question didn’t sound confrontational.
“I don’t know, probably because I’m a member of Generation X, we’re not happy with anyone, least
of all our Boomer parents.”
Ben nodded. “I live on the fault line.”
“Fault line?”
“Sure you know, the Boomers represented this huge demographic shift, and even though I’m considered a boomer by birth, I’m too young to consider the Summer of Love the defining moment in my life, although I remember it.”
“How old were you?”
“Nine.”
“So all that noise the Boomers make, does it signify nothing?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t take many English classes.”
I squinted against the sun. I believe that if your sunglasses were dark enough, you should be able to look directly into the sun. So far, I have not found the perfect pair of direct into the sun gazing glasses.
“For someone to pretends to know nothing, you are surprisingly bright,” he commented.
“You just love me for my amazing figure.”
“You do have an amazing figure, but that’s not why I love you.”
I sat up and pulled off my sunglasses for dramatic effect.
“What?”
“You heard me. Otherwise why would I drive all the way up here to rescue you?” He paused, I knew it was coming but I was so shocked I let him say it again.
“You are not rescuing me,” I insisted.
“Not this minute,” he conceded. “But I’m here, and,” he paused and scanned the sky in much the same way I was earlier. But I don’t think he was trying to look into the sun. “There’s something off.”
“Like you’re Daniel Boone or something?” I know, it was the second time I used that particular reference, but he was the only outdoors kind of hero I knew anything about.
He glanced back at me. I shrugged, “re-runs.”
“I didn’t watch Daniel Boone either.”
“What did you watch?” This was easier than addressing his surprising and shocking admission. I needed to call Carrie, this was momentous and I needed to ask her what the hell I should say.
Because the truth was, Ben was so fabulous, I was tempted to blurt out something similar.
“You’re changing the subject.”
“I know. But I don’t know what to say,” I admitted truthfully.
Catharine Bramkamp - Real Estate Diva 02 - Time Is of the Essence Page 16
