Restoring a House

One sunny morning in October, the phone rang as I was finishing my coffee and mentally organizing the day, "Hello, this is Kirk Hansen."

"Kirk, this is Amelia Cartwright. Do you have time to come and see me sometime soon? I have things I need done around here and I am not as spry as I used to be."

"Sure thing, Amelia, business is slow at the moment. I could come in a few minutes or whenever it is convenient."

"Please come now, I'll make coffee and we can sit in the sun out back."

The Cartwright mansion anchored the edge of town and was only a few minutes away. Amelia was the fourth generation of her family to live in it. Her great grandfather had prospered in the business of supplying the nearby railroads in the nineteenth century, and built a family home in his wife's birthplace, at the edge of the Sierra foothills. His descendant, Amelia, had no children, and at sixty-eight, was still going strong. A group of women from the church fussed over her living alone, but she was tough and determined.

As I came up the overgrown walk, she greeted me at the ornate front door. The house was Victorian, although not gingerbready. Strong bones, you could say. But the paint was peeling, the vegetation was out of control, and I'd bet there were leaks in the roof.

She hugged me, her grip still strong. "Kirk, you are so nice to come right away. Let's go through to the back."

The house sat on a low knoll that had been scraped off to provide a suitably impressive site. The flagstones on the side terrace were granite, hauled from a quarry high up in a canyon to the east. The view of forested hills rising in tiers toward the morning sun was superb.

We sipped our coffee and eyed each other. I spoke first. "Amelia, there's only one word for you, indomitable. How do you manage up here by yourself?"

"Well, Kirk, the church women help a lot. But to tell you the truth, and that's why I asked you to come out, nothing lasts forever, including tough old ladies. Before I leave the planet, I have a few things I want to do. One of them is restoring this home. And modernizing some of it. Are you in a position to take a full time job remodeling my house for several months?"

I stared at her. Even if I had been a busy contractor, which I wasn't right now, it would have been hard to turn Amelia down. Her face was lined, but the high cheekbones spoke to her youthful beauty, and she sat up straight as a board. The body was trim and looked like it went to the gym frequently.

I smiled, "Amelia, I wouldn't think of turning you down. Business is slow, as it usually is this time of year. Work for you will keep me from starvation."

"Kirk, you are a handsome brute, and don't look close to starvation. Come and give me a kiss to seal our deal."

I went over and bent to kiss her cheek but she turned and met my lips with hers in a firm, warm kiss. I caressed her shoulder and said, "You're not an old lady, you are a fine, mature woman."

"Thank you. Women do need compliments. Please call me Mely, like my friends do."

I said, "Your fixup program is going to attract attention, so we need to get a permit from the Building Department. That will be easier if there is an architect of record. Do you have someone you would like to use?"

"Heaven's no. All you have to do is look around and you can tell. What about you, is there someone you trust who might be interested and respectful of the house?"

"I have a woman in mind who has used me for restoration work. If you like, I could ring her now and see if she could meet with us soon."

I pulled out my mobile and dialed. "Hello, this is Cicely."

"Hi, it's Kirk. I'm sitting with the world's finest client, who needs help with the restoration of a marvelous Victorian home. Good bones, no gingerbread."

"You mean Amelia Cartwright?"

I laughed at Mely and said, "She guessed it was you already." I put the phone on speaker.

"Cicely, since you have such miserable credentials, Amelia would like a meeting to discuss the project. She has already talked me into working full time on it."

"Kirk Hansen, you worthless excuse for a Scandinavian, I'm obviously going to have to fill in Amelia about how you have to be watched like a hawk. Do you want me to drop everything and come right now? I was just cleaning up my work table and wondering where the next client is coming from. Things are slow in the fall."

Mely was smiling brilliantly and and nodding vigorously.

"Yes, please do. Bring your pad. We will provide lunch."

I rang off and provided background on Cicely Anderson. "She grew up on a farm in Minnesota. Third generation American. Went to U. of Minnesota and got an architecture degree. Very outdoorsy. Decided she wanted to be in California and practice someplace close to the mountains. You'll like her. And her work, which is first class."

I got instructions from Mely about lunch and went off to the deli while she waited for Cicely. When I came back, they were already upstairs looking through the house. I made myself useful in the kitchen, fixing plates for lunch, opening some chilled Pinot Grigio, and taking it to the patio table, which also needed a wiping first. They saw me through a window and came out into the welcome sunshine.

"Kirk, this is wonderful, you are already earning your fee."

"Don't let him kid you, Amelia, he does this with every new client. Just wait until the invoice shows up." She came over and gave me a very warm hug and a kiss on the lips that was not a peck.

Mely said, "Stand right there. My goodness, you could be brother and sister. Tall and blond. Do you ski together? I loved skiing when I was younger."

We nodded. I thought about how Cicely beat my butt down the mountain most days. Of course, she had been on her college ski team.

Mely gave a us sly smile. "Did you do more than ski together? I did that too when I was younger."

There was an awkward silence, then Cicely burst out laughing, wrapped her arm around me and said, "Yes, we did that too, but Kirk and I are not an item these days. I had an engagement fall apart and I'm still sorting out men." She put a lot of emphasis on 'men.'

Amelia sat down at the table, motioning us to join her. She picked up her wineglass and said to Cicely, "Here's a toast to men. We need them, but they're mostly trouble!"

Suitably chastised, I concentrated on my salad and listened to the two women discuss the project. Cicely took my hand and squeezed it, "Kirk, we need one of those PERT charts. Don't you have software to do that?"

"Yes, I'll take some notes and do the first version tonight." I turned to Mely, "Do you have any part of the restoration you would like completed first?"

"Well, yes. If it's possible, I would like the back bedroom and bath on the second floor redone first."

Cicely and I looked at each other. She said, "Kirk and I need to make a lot of notes this afternoon. Then he can take me to dinner and we will try to develop an overall plan and see if putting the bedroom and bath first works out. Would you like to meet for lunch again tomorrow? We will have things for you to look over."

"That would be simply wonderful. Thanks to both of you for being so quick. Now you go work and let me clean up."

As we walked out an hour later, she asked, "So where are you taking me for our working dinner that I announced without asking you?"

I walked us behind the nearest tree, pulled her hair, kissed her lips, and said, "You are going to put on that crimson dress I like so much and we are going to Anthony's Grotto to celebrate the chance to work on the Cartwright restoration and get paid for it!"

She kissed back hard and said, "I may have to revise my low opinion of you. This is a dream assignment. Will we fight every day?"

Walking the rest of the way to the cars, I said, "I have some ideas about friction I'll share with you tonight." That got me a hard look, and a laugh as she started her car.

For some reason, I had a good feeling about the new job, and the chance to work with Cicely and Amelia. I took the truck to the carwash before picking Cicely up at 6:30. She looked great. Even had her heels on. It was a good thing I had cleaned up the truck and myself.

The Grotto was down by the water and we had a quiet table to one side with a view of the river. I asked her, "Meat or fish tonight?"

"Let's have one of those small bottles of champagne and look at the menu."

Sipping my bubbles, I looked at her and said, out loud, "Why did I stop chasing you?"

"Because I told you I was all screwed up about men and needed some time and space to myself."

I let that hang in the air for a while and then asked, "Can a guy get a date with you again?"

"You mean, is my brain untangled?"

I moved my hand to her thigh under the table and said, "Yes, I guess that is the important question. One that a worthless Scandinavian small time contractor would need to know the answer to."

Her hand was on top of mine, but not moving it away. The waiter showed up, told us about the specials and we ordered. I asked for a wine recommendation and he said there was some exceptional Pinot Noir not on the wine list we would like. Her fingers were twined with mine and squeezing gently.

"Are we already on a date, or is this just a working dinner?"

I brought her hand to my lips and kissed it. "With that dress on, you look like a fabulous date. Maybe the computer printout needs to stay in my pocket."

There was a comfortable silence between us, and I thought about how few dates with silences in them ever worked out. With Cicely, it felt like silence was a good thing.

Food and wine arrived. Both were excellent. I was wolfing my food when I realized this was a good restaurant and not a backcountry cookshack. I sat back and laughed.

She looked at me with wide eyes. I said, "Here I am with terrific food and wine, a beautiful woman next to me, and I'm rushing the meal! Dumb."

She licked one of my fingers and said, "I need to talk to you about dumb. Could we do that at my place, later?"

"Well, I thought we could spend a couple of hours at my computer, preparing for tomorrow."

She was just getting an annoyed look on her face when she saw my smile. "If you tease me, I can get back at you."

Don't go there, I said to myself, and asked her about the best way to approach Amelia's project.

"I've done several restorations around town, but never anything like this. If she seriously wants us to do the whole place, it is a fantastic opportunity. We need some research about the original furnishings and materials, color schemes, and so on. Did you talk money with her?"

"No. We obviously can't give her a standard fixed price contract. How do you work out restoration project budgets?"

"Depends on the client, but I usually tell them that the best approach is to continuously track the cash flow and the major decision costs, and adjust if necessary."

"Nice if you have a good client who will do the intelligent thing."

"I think we have a very intelligent client. What about coffee and dessert at my place?"

I paid up, refusing an offer of help, and followed her home.

She pointed to a living room sofa and said, "Sit. Unless you want to help me change."

The look was as sexy as she could make it. Her hand was around mine, leading the way to her bedroom. She backed up and said, "Zipper please."

She stepped out of the dress and went to the closet. She turned with a robe in her hand and I said, "Wait a minute." I walked over and unclipped the bra, slipping it off and helping her arms into the robe. "Bras are a nuisance, aren't they? Especially when you have gorgeous, firm unsaggy boobs."

I leaned forward and kissed her with my hands on her breasts. I could have done without the robe in the way, but a little voice said not to be aggressive.

She kissed me back. "I still remember that night we spent together at the ski place, before things went bad." She pressed herself into me and ducked her head on my shoulder. She looked at the bed and said, "We can jump in there right now if you want. Or we could have the dessert and coffee I offered?"

I held her at arms length. "I have this funny feeling. It's like we've been acquainted, but we are on a first date and getting to know one another for the first time. Maybe we can play a little game around that?"

She smiled and went to the kitchen. I made a fire in the woodstove while she worked the coffee and fresh berry pie with ice cream. We sat on the sofa and snuggled together. "This is the nicest first date I can remember." She pressed cool lips to the side of my face.

The dessert was delicious and so was the snuggling and kissing after that. I pulled the blanket around us and snaked my hand beneath the robe to find a boob with a nice stiff nipple at the end of it.

"I have a problem. You are behaving very well for a first date. But I've gotten hopelessly carried away and want more, even though my mother warned me about going too far."

Her eyes were dancing. "Carry me to my bed and ravish me. Mothers be damned."

We were naked in her cold bed, hugging and kissing. I was hard and her hand was squeezing me.

She giggled, "It's awful cold for loving in here, isn't it?"

"What about the rug in front of the fire? Isn't that where a lot of girls get ravished?"

She leapt out of bed and ran to the living room. By the time I got there, she had turned out the light and was lying on her back on a blanket spread before the stove. My stiff cock found its way between the muscular thighs and right on in to home plate. What a great first date. She had her arms around me and was humping up. I guessed this was a woman who needed regular sex and wasn't getting it. In moments, I wasn't thinking how special Cicely was, what a great skier and architect she was. My body was telling me it remembered dimly how sex with this woman was great a long time ago. I thought to myself that I didn't need those memories. I could make a whole new set of great memories right now. My thrusts were working on both of us. There was a lot of juice and a lot of sloppy noise coming from my driving hard into her. There was little give in her body, just hard flesh and bone giving back to me in full measure. "OMG, Kirk, keep doing that. More, more."

The orgasm was intense. She didn't quite keep from screaming. I roared as my cock sprayed her insides with a full load of my juice. She rolled on top, the two of us still gasping and shaking. I pulled the loose end of the blanket over us.

After a while, she whispered in my ear, "Can we do that again, sometime? Like everyday?"

I laughed and massaged the muscles in her back and butt. "She's going to know. She's going to take one look at you tomorrow and know we had sex."

Cicely shuddered and said, "Very unprofessional. Very."

We lay there quietly until she said, "Will you warm my bed tonight?"

"Of course, but what would your mother say? Sleeping over on a first date?"

I stood and picked her up. She found a spare toothbrush and we did the bathroom thing. I applied a soapy towel to her bottom and she cleaned my slippery cock.

The bed was comfortable, the body was better. I was asleep in an instant.

We were at Amelia's at eleven, plans and printouts in hand. We spread out on the dining room table and put Amelia between us. I told Cicely she should take the lead and I would fill in.

"Amelia, we love your house and want to do the best job we can for you. But quality restoration is not cheap. Kirk and I have broken things down into several functional categories and within those we have outlined some possible phases. But we don't want to get bogged down in detail until the three of us have a comfort level with where you want to take the project and how far you want to go."

Amelia squeezed Cicely's waist and said, "That's a very professional speech you just gave. Makes me think I have the right two people to help me. May I make a suggestion?"

Cicely and I stumbled over each other saying yes, certainly, of course.

"While we are doing plans and permits, why don't I find a good landscaping firm and start the cleanup outside? There's tons of dead stuff to haul away, and many plants that need severe pruning or replacing. Do the two of you know someone good?"

I looked at Cicely and mouthed, "Gonzales?" She nodded and I said, "Arturo Gonzales has a fine reputation in town. His wife is a botanist who knows plants backwards and forwards. They are both perfectionists and don't take a client without a careful conversation. We could recommend you and ask if they are able to come over soon."

"Fine," she said. "I think the rest of the work divides in half between fixing all the broken down things, and remodeling the rooms I'm not happy with." She looked at us for confirmation.

We nodded. If anything, Amelia was out in front of her architect and contractor. She continued, "Can we find someone to take on the repair projects, one by one, working under your direction? That leaves the three of us to concentrate on the remodeling and all those tricky decisions. Does that sound about right?"

The architect and contractor nodded again, vigorously. This was the strangest client conference I had ever been in. It was about to get stranger. Amelia maneuvered herself around so I was in the middle. She put Cicely's arm around my waist and added hers. "Now, it's none of my business, but you two seem very relaxed and happy for a meeting with your elderly, picky client. Did you have a pleasant evening last night, talking about the project?"

I decided to be direct. "We had a wonderful dinner at the Grotto, and Cicely took me back to her place for dessert. After that we had fun on the carpet in front of her wood stove."

Amelia turned to Cicely, "You are a beautiful, intelligent woman, Cicely, and I'm so glad you put first things first last night."

Now it was Cicely's turn. "Amelia, it was just a first date, but he was such a perfect gentleman that things got out of control. I told him my mother would not have approved."

Mely giggled and kissed Cicely on the lips. Then I got a wet hard kiss. "Oh, this is so much fun. You two are making an old woman very happy. Let's have some lunch now."

I called Arturo while the women were in the kitchen. I was lucky and got him on the first try. "Kirk, what can I do for you?"

"Arturo, do you remember the Cartwright place on the edge of town? Amelia Cartwright has decided to do a restoration and the grounds need a lot of help. It's not just a cleanup. The plantings need rehabilitation and new landscaping consistent with the architecture of the house. Would you and your wife be interested in helping?"

"When would Mrs. Cartwright be able to talk about the work with us, Kirk?"

"At your convenience, but sooner rather than later."

"We are finishing a job today. We could come at 4. Would that be ok?"

I checked with Amelia and she said fine, as long as Cicely and I were there too. I went back to the phone, "That's fine. Thank you so much for putting us in your schedule."

Then I told the women I would be right out and called Bruce Tarleton, a onetime handyman who had turned himself into one of the best repair and remodeling services in town.

"Bruce, I'm doing a restoration project for Amelia Cartwright at her place on the edge of town. Almost everything on the outside needs to be fixed. Are you up for some careful work on an historic structure? She won't try to nickel and dime you."

There was hesitation in his voice. "Tony Moretti has been feeding me projects that amount to about halftime and I enjoy that lifestyle. But things are slow for him, and maybe the Cartwright job would work out all around. When can we talk?"

"What about tomorrow afternoon at her house?"

Bruce said that was fine and I went out on the patio for lunch. The two of them broke off their conversation and raised eyebrows at me. "After Arturo, I called Bruce Tarleton about the roof and the siding and so on. He's going to come by tomorrow afternoon."