Rusty Nailed
Page 56
I was a designer. And I wanted to keep on being a designer. So the keys would be given back, she’d tell me what a brilliant job I’d done, she wouldn’t be able to resist busting my balls about the third-floor carpet no matter that she knew it wasn’t my fault, and then everything would go back to normal.
Yes? Yes.
I heard her before I saw her. That voice that could make you quake or dance. I was hoping for dancing.
“Where is that girl? Where’s that Caroline?” I heard as she came closer to my office door. I grinned, moving out from behind my desk and approaching the door.
She breezed in, suntanned, healthy, and radiant. She literally glowed.
“What’s up, boss lady?” I asked, and she pulled me into a tight hug.
“Good to you see you, kiddo.” She moved me back out to arm’s length and looked me over. “You look tired. And I have just the cure.” She handed me a huge bag.
“What’s this?” I asked, setting it on the desk.
“Presents, of course. France, Switzerland—you name it, you got a trinket.”
“Is this the part where I say, Oh, Jillian, you shouldn’t have?” I said, spying a box at the top. It said . . . No. It surely didn’t. Hermès?
“Oh, Jillian, you really shouldn’t have,” I breathed, opening it carefully. A silk scarf. Salmon pink and bloodred, swirled through with buttercup yellow. “But I am so freaking glad you did!” I squealed, jumping up and down.
“It’s the least I could do,” she said. “Now come show me the third floor. After we get that over with, we can go to lunch and you can bring me up to speed.”
• • •
We sat in our favorite booth at our favorite restaurant in Chinatown, eating sizzling rice soup. I delighted in just having her here again. She told me stories from their trip abroad, and I drank them up as quickly as I did the green tea. Palaces, castles, yachts, grand restaurants, and tiny bistros. The romance, the adventure—all of it just sounded magical.
“And Nerja—oh my goodness, I can’t even tell you! You know how enchanting it is; I never wanted to leave,” she gushed.
“I know, it was like a little slice of heaven,” I sighed, remembering the trip I’d taken with Simon. I went there already a little bit in love with him, and that trip solidified everything for me. Watching him work, discovering a new locale with him, experiencing everything this tiny corner of the globe had to offer, immersing ourselves completely in a moment. I’d fallen 100 percent in love with him there. It would always hold a special place in my heart.
“And the food! I can’t believe I’m not as big as house, the way we ate,” she exclaimed, and I looked her over from stem to stern.
“You look fantastic, as always. Who are you kidding?”
“Speaking of fantastic, when do I get to see this new house? I can’t believe we’re neighbors!” she asked.
“Oh, it’s a wreck right now. But you know what that’s like, you lived through it.”
“Blech—worst thing ever is living through a renovation. But it’s worth it in the end.”
“I’m trying to keep that in mind.”
“I was surprised when you told me. I thought Simon loved the city,” she said, eyeing me carefully.
“Believe me, no one was more surprised than me when he came up with this crazy idea. But he took to Sausalito quicker than I thought he would; he really loves it over there,” I answered. “I do too.”
“And Benjamin told me he’s taken some time off work?”
“A little; he canceled a few jobs. He really wants to be here when the renovation gets going. But when he sees how boring it can be, he’ll hightail it for Bali or Madagascar.” I laughed, paying special attention to the bottom of my soup bowl. And not at all to Jillian’s knowing gaze. “So, after lunch you want to stop by the Claremont and see how it’s coming along?”
• • •
“Holy Christ, this place is sick.”
“Sick is right. How much did she pay for the baby-puke-green stove?”
“Obviously she’s getting rid of those, and besides, she didn’t pay for it. Simon did.”
“No shit, must be nice to have Mr. Moneybags for a feller. Why such a big house, though?”
“Oh, use your imagination! There’s two of them now, but down the road . . .”
“Just because you plan on being pregnant within the year doesn’t mean anyone else wants to be.”
“Don’t be such a downer, you big stick-in-the-mud. Just look at that view!”
“All I see are weeds.”
“Honestly, I can’t even believe that you—”
“Now look, Pollyanna, I just call it like I see it, and I think that—”
I stood in the doorway, watching my two best friends with amusement. I cleared my throat, and they both broke off, midtiff.
“Sorry, Caroline, we were just saying that—” Mimi started, and I waved my hand.
“I heard what you were saying; you two carry on. Let me know when you want me to give you the full tour—or I can just leave and let you two make out. I’m familiar with your foreplay.”
Sophia snorted and set her bag down on one of the sawhorses. “Okay, Reynolds, show us your new digs.”
I did indeed give them the full tour of the new house. My new house. Our new house. Which was, at this point, a war zone.
Besides the aforementioned sawhorses, we also had ladders, Sheetrock, buffing machines, paint cans, several tarps, and yes, baby-puke-green appliances. To be fair, when they were initially manufactured, they were called avocado. Which was just insulting to avocados.
Experience had taught me that no matter how much money a customer had, no matter how many workmen you had on the job, no matter how creative the architect or how skilled the designer (very), there were hiccups. Hiccups that I simply left at the end of the day.
Now I was living with the hiccups. Every single day. Along with Simon, who was taking it much more in stride. He’d never done anything like this before, but he was determined to help as much as he could. He even bought himself a tool belt, which he looked utterly fantastic wearing. Had I made him model it for me one night wearing nothing else? Maybe. A little.
The building inspection had turned up more issues than I thought possible. Under the surface, there was wood rot. And leaky pipes. And busted duct work. Floor joists needed to be replaced, a new concrete slab possibly poured in the basement—the hits just kept on coming. All of it was totally doable, just time consuming. And costly.
Yes? Yes.
I heard her before I saw her. That voice that could make you quake or dance. I was hoping for dancing.
“Where is that girl? Where’s that Caroline?” I heard as she came closer to my office door. I grinned, moving out from behind my desk and approaching the door.
She breezed in, suntanned, healthy, and radiant. She literally glowed.
“What’s up, boss lady?” I asked, and she pulled me into a tight hug.
“Good to you see you, kiddo.” She moved me back out to arm’s length and looked me over. “You look tired. And I have just the cure.” She handed me a huge bag.
“What’s this?” I asked, setting it on the desk.
“Presents, of course. France, Switzerland—you name it, you got a trinket.”
“Is this the part where I say, Oh, Jillian, you shouldn’t have?” I said, spying a box at the top. It said . . . No. It surely didn’t. Hermès?
“Oh, Jillian, you really shouldn’t have,” I breathed, opening it carefully. A silk scarf. Salmon pink and bloodred, swirled through with buttercup yellow. “But I am so freaking glad you did!” I squealed, jumping up and down.
“It’s the least I could do,” she said. “Now come show me the third floor. After we get that over with, we can go to lunch and you can bring me up to speed.”
• • •
We sat in our favorite booth at our favorite restaurant in Chinatown, eating sizzling rice soup. I delighted in just having her here again. She told me stories from their trip abroad, and I drank them up as quickly as I did the green tea. Palaces, castles, yachts, grand restaurants, and tiny bistros. The romance, the adventure—all of it just sounded magical.
“And Nerja—oh my goodness, I can’t even tell you! You know how enchanting it is; I never wanted to leave,” she gushed.
“I know, it was like a little slice of heaven,” I sighed, remembering the trip I’d taken with Simon. I went there already a little bit in love with him, and that trip solidified everything for me. Watching him work, discovering a new locale with him, experiencing everything this tiny corner of the globe had to offer, immersing ourselves completely in a moment. I’d fallen 100 percent in love with him there. It would always hold a special place in my heart.
“And the food! I can’t believe I’m not as big as house, the way we ate,” she exclaimed, and I looked her over from stem to stern.
“You look fantastic, as always. Who are you kidding?”
“Speaking of fantastic, when do I get to see this new house? I can’t believe we’re neighbors!” she asked.
“Oh, it’s a wreck right now. But you know what that’s like, you lived through it.”
“Blech—worst thing ever is living through a renovation. But it’s worth it in the end.”
“I’m trying to keep that in mind.”
“I was surprised when you told me. I thought Simon loved the city,” she said, eyeing me carefully.
“Believe me, no one was more surprised than me when he came up with this crazy idea. But he took to Sausalito quicker than I thought he would; he really loves it over there,” I answered. “I do too.”
“And Benjamin told me he’s taken some time off work?”
“A little; he canceled a few jobs. He really wants to be here when the renovation gets going. But when he sees how boring it can be, he’ll hightail it for Bali or Madagascar.” I laughed, paying special attention to the bottom of my soup bowl. And not at all to Jillian’s knowing gaze. “So, after lunch you want to stop by the Claremont and see how it’s coming along?”
• • •
“Holy Christ, this place is sick.”
“Sick is right. How much did she pay for the baby-puke-green stove?”
“Obviously she’s getting rid of those, and besides, she didn’t pay for it. Simon did.”
“No shit, must be nice to have Mr. Moneybags for a feller. Why such a big house, though?”
“Oh, use your imagination! There’s two of them now, but down the road . . .”
“Just because you plan on being pregnant within the year doesn’t mean anyone else wants to be.”
“Don’t be such a downer, you big stick-in-the-mud. Just look at that view!”
“All I see are weeds.”
“Honestly, I can’t even believe that you—”
“Now look, Pollyanna, I just call it like I see it, and I think that—”
I stood in the doorway, watching my two best friends with amusement. I cleared my throat, and they both broke off, midtiff.
“Sorry, Caroline, we were just saying that—” Mimi started, and I waved my hand.
“I heard what you were saying; you two carry on. Let me know when you want me to give you the full tour—or I can just leave and let you two make out. I’m familiar with your foreplay.”
Sophia snorted and set her bag down on one of the sawhorses. “Okay, Reynolds, show us your new digs.”
I did indeed give them the full tour of the new house. My new house. Our new house. Which was, at this point, a war zone.
Besides the aforementioned sawhorses, we also had ladders, Sheetrock, buffing machines, paint cans, several tarps, and yes, baby-puke-green appliances. To be fair, when they were initially manufactured, they were called avocado. Which was just insulting to avocados.
Experience had taught me that no matter how much money a customer had, no matter how many workmen you had on the job, no matter how creative the architect or how skilled the designer (very), there were hiccups. Hiccups that I simply left at the end of the day.
Now I was living with the hiccups. Every single day. Along with Simon, who was taking it much more in stride. He’d never done anything like this before, but he was determined to help as much as he could. He even bought himself a tool belt, which he looked utterly fantastic wearing. Had I made him model it for me one night wearing nothing else? Maybe. A little.
The building inspection had turned up more issues than I thought possible. Under the surface, there was wood rot. And leaky pipes. And busted duct work. Floor joists needed to be replaced, a new concrete slab possibly poured in the basement—the hits just kept on coming. All of it was totally doable, just time consuming. And costly.
