Loving Claire - A Summer Job Turns Into Much Much More
Chapter One - The Dean Sends Me to Suddenly Wealthy Claire
Toward the end of my second year of architecture study, my senior professor and mentor, who was also the Dean, called me into his office.
"Elliot, I have an interesting summer job opportunity for you. A dear friend, who has inherited a lot of money, needs an architecture apprentice to help design and flesh out a personal residence in the hills of Marin. I have no idea what this will do for your future as an architect, but she is a brilliant and interesting person, to say the least."
He went on, "There are special aspects of the job. You will live on the land with her, and perhaps other helpers. She keeps horses, and if you like riding, there apparently are good trails. She asked me what a fair wage would be, and I said half of next year's tuition, since we are so stingy with scholarship dollars."
Doing quick arithmetic in my head, I said, "Professor Collins, that is a stunningly high salary, what did she say?"
"She said I was a terrible thief, but if you were the best student I had, she would pay it."
"I suppose she deserves a proper interview?"
"Yes, of course. She was working in Sacramento as a legislative analyst when the rich aunt died. But now has a place in Woodacre, which is just west of San Rafael. The property is a gorgeous chunk of undeveloped land off upper Lucas Valley Road."
"Thank you for the introduction. I'll ring her for a convenient time."
"Elliot, she is single, but has a fearsome reputation as a feminist liberal who goes both ways. I originally met her through my wife. They were roommates at Berkeley."
"I should call Joyce for more advice?"
"Don't do it. She loves to chew up my students, especially if they are as big and handsome as you are."
Claire Cartright had a pleasant modulated voice on the phone, and sounded genuinely interested in a meeting. "Don't call it an interview, Elliot. Come Saturday morning as early as you can manage, and we will dive right in. By lunchtime, we will know if our chemistry works."
"Yes, Ma'am, that would be fine."
"And don't call me Ma'am. It's Claire, unless we are in a bar in Sacramento, where it is any number of nasty tags."
By Friday morning, my finals were done and I did a little digging in front about Marin zoning rules, which were generally hostile to development. Utility access wasn't much better.
That afternoon, my cell chimed and it was Claire. "Are you by chance a runner?"
"I ran track in high school, but now am just recreational."
"Sounds good. Get yourself up and over here by seven. We will have a run and talk about the summer project."
"Sounds fun. I've never been out in your part of the world. By the way, have you made any progress on permits so far?"
"Ha! Why do you think I called your professor? You are the golden haired architect from Berkeley who is going to solve all my problems."
"Yes, ma'am."
"Elliot, I have a flogger in my closet and will use it if I hear that word again."
I hesitated, and said, "Claire, darling, I promise never to use that word in your presence again." Click.
That might get me fired before I started, but it felt good to push back a bit.
Summer fog was on the Bay, but it was clear in Woodacre, which seemed mostly to be a collection of funky redwood shacks. A woman who had to be Claire was in front of her building in running clothes when my ancient Porsche 914 drove up. She pointed to a parking place and I got out.
"You have no business driving my favorite sports car. I finally could afford one two years out of school. Drove it into the ground and moved up to a 911."
We set off at a brisk pace on woodsy back roads. I had a feeling that everything about Claire was going to be brisk. In the first ten minutes, more than a little out of breath, we exchanged the usual family background. Not needing to dwell on those details, I moved the conversation to the project for me.
"What led you to property here in Marin?"
"My aunt Catherine was a librarian and a single woman. She admired my in your face feminism and we spent time together. She loved trains and we rode Amtrak every summer. Her fortune arrived from her grandfather when she was thirty, but she never said a word to anyone about it. It was a complete surprise when her lawyer called after her death and said I was the residual beneficiary and the amount would be greater than fifty million."
"But why Marin?"
She frowned, "I'm getting to that. For the princely sum I am paying, you will listen to my ranting patiently."
She looked sidewise at me with a grin. A pixie grin trying to get a rise out of me.
"You are going to have to give me a little time to adjust to your brand of feminism."
The frown returned and she upped the pace. "I can see you are going to be trouble. Perhaps the kind of trouble I need. I'll be honest with you, the bequest from my aunt is allowing me to do something about Claire as well as build a house. I shouldn't say this, but I can already tell that you are going to be part of the remodeling of Claire. Is there a woman in your life?"
We were at the top of a hill and she stopped. "This is far enough. You haven't answered my question."
She grabbed my hand with hers and twisted. "Answer."
"There isn't a yes or no to that question."
"Damn, I might have known. Give me the short version."
"I have some good friends in architecture school. Good enough to share my bed once in a while. But we are working too hard and are too ambitious for our careers to let romance get in the way."
She was speeding up downhill. "You are going to wreck your knees that way. Let's take it easy and keep talking."
Her look was half frown and half grin. "You know how to push back. I like that. I'm thinking we are going to get along ok on this project."
Her building was more or less a one bedroom in bad shape. "I don't have to worry about money anymore, so just bought this outright. Reminds me of being poor when I was a student. Take your shower while I whip up some breakfast."
