Page 167 of Not Over You

“Zippit!” She squinches up her face. “I don’t wanna know.”

Maddy gets embarrassed when I talk about sex. I make fun of her, but I know she is just shy.

“It might have gone a lot further, but some people showed up on the beach. Thank the good lord for saving me from myself. But the night ended on a low note. He left like a mostly mature adult and I feel like the jackass I should.”

Maddy slides off the stool, pats me on the shoulder. “An apology will go a long way, I’m sure.”

I groan. “You’re right, of course. But I don’t have time for that today. I’m meeting the realtor after work for an open house and to look at some properties”

She cuts her eyes at me. “And an apology takes how long to give?”

“Smarty pants,” I joke. “I’ll do it. I promise. When I figure out what to say.”

The street parking is a problem at 1421 Date Palm Drive. An open house sign on the lawn is drawing an assortment of attention. Cars are slowly rolling past. A few people are walking around the outside of the property. Some agent types are chatting it up by the end of the sidewalk.

I circle the block and finally find a spot for my vintage Volkswagen Bug. It’s small, so I got lucky when a little Fiat pulled out.

Katerina Colderman, my friend and realtor, is waiting for me. She smiles as I walk toward her. “Exciting place. This one’s drawing a lot of attention.”

I look over the low-slung rancher, “I can see why, it’s been nicely remodeled.”

She passes me a print-out on the property. I immediately zero in on the price at the top. It’s about one hundred thousand more than my budget. “Whoa, that’s a whole lot bigger than my purse size.”

Katerina loops her arm in mine. “Come on. I thought it would just be good to look around and get some ideas for remodeling. Even if it’s too expensive, you can still use it to help form some ideas of what you do and don’t want.”

“Oh, alright, I guess you know what you’re talking about.”

Katerina was a friend back in high school in Santa Cruz. It was a nice coincidence we both landed in Lynn’s Cove.

When we walk inside, the smell of baked bread hits me. There are some appetizers on the bar in the kitchen. Someone has really gone out of the way to make an impression—and make the place smell like home.

I lean into Kat’s ear. “What’s wrong with the place that they’d have to do all that?”

She smiles a knowing smile.

“Something’s up.”

She shrugs. We stroll around through the dining room, the living room, and out onto the back patio. That’s when I see what might be the cause for the “extra effort.” Holy unexpected home decor! My eyes go wide. “Whoa!”

There’s a vintage van of some sort taking up half of the backyard. It has been cut in half and turned into some kind of giant tiki bar. A giant tree is growing up through the middle of it.

Kat grins and drops her sunglasses down over her dancing eyes. “Pretty unique.”

“I’d say. It looks like it should have been in some 1960’s surf movie.”

A booming voice right next to my ear makes me jump a good ten inches off the ground. “It was in a movie!” I lean back and take in the man with a bushy head of grizzled gray curls that’s standing close enough to count the hairs on my head.

I side-step and make some room between me and his vocal cords.

Kat twists her mouth up to avoid laughing. “It’s a standout feature,” she offers.

“My seller just had to have it because she was in the movie—she was an extra—but was apparently at the bar in one famous scene. It’s just such a classic California collectable. Who wouldn’t want it!”

“Hm,” I manage, unsure what else to comment. A tiki bar would be fine, a little one, but I’ll skip the decaying gigantic van part.

Kat saves me. “Shall we tour the bedrooms now?”

I answer a little too enthusiastically, “Perfect, great. Yes.” She whisks me away as the man eyes a fresh batch of guests to loud-talk at.

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