I was hired by Jillian after interning here my senior year in college, and she’d become more than a boss, sounding board, and mentor. She’d become a close friend.
In the last year or so, our working relationship had changed. When she first told me she and Benjamin were moving to Amsterdam for six months of each year, I thought my work at her interior design firm was going to change drastically. I’d spent the previous several months running the show while they were on an extended honeymoon, so I was honored when Jillian offered me a partnership. And scared to death. And even more scared to death to turn it down, something most young designers would never do. But my Creative Caroline side had found that the administrative side of running a business wasn’t my cuppa. When you’re handed the keys to a kingdom, though, you don’t walk away.
I didn’t walk away, but I didn’t snatch the keys either. Jillian and I were able to work out a new arrangement that allowed me to continue to primarily work with clients, and supervise things in a very general sense while she was abroad. We agreed that I’d stay in a mostly creative role, and we brought in a wonderful office manager who helped make sure the lights stayed on and the payroll checks were cut on time.
But things were busy, no mistake. After helping Viv do a renovation on her inherited Victorian home in Mendocino, I’d been retained to work on several restoration jobs around the area, expanding the reach of Jillian Designs beyond the Bay Area. I’d worked jobs all over Northern California, and as far south as Santa Barbara. I still worked primarily in San Francisco, but the regional work was fun and satisfying. And I was helping to raise the profile of the design firm, which was already fairly well known, even higher.
But as busy as I was, I’d always carve out time for a quick overnight to Mendocino to take a peek at whatever Viv was working on. Sometimes with Simon, sometimes without; it was an easy drive to a lovely location. Viv had converted her attic into a working studio where she started painting the most incredible pieces, all inspired by her recently adopted home of Mendocino. I sold a few to some clients, and word was beginning to spread. Some of her work was featured in a few stores in her area, and she even had a showing at a local art fair here in San Francisco. New pieces? I’d make it work.
“Let me look at my calendar on Monday, see when I might be able to get up there?”
“Sounds good. Simon, how about you coming this time too? We just got two new kayaks,” Viv offered, hopeful her adventure partner would come along.
“We’ll see. I’ve got a big trip coming up soon; lots to plan between now and then,” Simon said. But I could see his eyes dancing at the thought of kayaking.
“Oh fuck it, you’re coming up too, and that’s that. Now, I need another root beer. Let’s roll, Clark,” Viv said, making the decision for him.
“Impossible woman,” Clark muttered under his breath, but followed her across the room toward the bar. With a wide grin on his face.
“Those two aren’t wasting any time, are they?” Simon said.
“Speaking of not wasting any time . . .” I pointed toward the head table, where Mimi and Ryan were engaging in some pre–wedding night foreplay.
“It’s going to be a long night, isn’t it?”
“I’ll keep you entertained,” I murmured, sliding my hand down his back and giving his magnificent buns a quick squeeze.
“Naughty Girl,” he said, slipping his hands into my hair and pulling me in for a long, slow kiss. I let him; I didn’t care. Surrounded by people at a wedding reception? I kissed him back, his sweet lips opening and his even sweeter tongue tangling with mine. My breath came quickly, my skin heated, and I was ready to take him up on his quickie offer. Until I heard the beginning of the toasts starting over the microphone, signaling it was time for us to return to the head table and be upstanding and proper members of the wedding party.
“Later,” he whispered. And promised. Mmm.
The reception went off without a hitch. We all danced, we drank, we danced some more, we definitely drank some more. Sophia and Viv, finally meeting and bonding over their ginger ales, swapped birthing stories and talked endlessly over some kind of sling you carry a baby in.
Whatever it was, they talked about it for hours, it seemed. But since Sophia was the first mommy in our little clan, I was glad she had a new friend who could relate to what she was going through.
By the time we said our good nights to Mimi and Ryan, on their way to spend a night at the Palace Hotel before leaving early the next morning for a honeymoon in Bora Bora, I was pleasantly sauced, and more than pleasantly horny for the man who’d been requesting Glenn Miller all night. But I still found a moment with my girl before she left.
“You were truly the most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen. Seriously, Mimi, it was an incredible day.”
“It was pretty great, wasn’t it?” She grinned, lifting up one foot to peer at the sole. “I’ve got soot foot.”
“They’re pretty filthy,” I agreed. “But you totally pulled it off.”
“I know!” She laughed, and fell into a hug.
“Indulging in the fairer sex already?” Sophia asked, appearing out of nowhere.
“Oh c’mere, you,” Mimi cried, pulling her into our Mushtown. “You girls are my best friends, you know that?”
“Best friends? Then how come your cousin was your maid of honor?” Sophia teased, and Mimi’s face crinkled.