“You think because you’re pregnant I won’t stomp on your foot?”
“Come on, let’s go congratulate our friend Shoeless Joe over there,” she said with a smirk, pointing at Mimi, who was surrounded by family and positively beaming.
Ninety minutes later we were drinking champagne under one of the most iconic San Francisco monuments, the Palace of Fine Arts. Mimi had consulted the sun charts, not in an astrological way, but in a perfectly backlit way. So not only was the sun streaming in through the church windows to exactly highlight her skin tone, she had also designed her reception around sunset, capturing that perfect moment when the sun was setting behind the rotunda. And as the lights came on and the candles glowed, the gorgeous old landmark was reflected perfectly in the pond below. Shades of burnished gold from the structure, deep indigo from the water, buttery yellows from the candlelight, and the kaleidoscope of magenta, orange, and fuchsia from the setting sun painted the backdrop of this lovely evening.
It was perfection, as only a professional organizer could ensure. Simon and I mingled with the guests, sipping our bubbly and chatting with strangers, acquaintances, and finally, friends. Up for the wedding after becoming friends with Mimi during her renovation in Mendocino, Viv Franklin was in the house. With her very dashing fiancé, Clark Barrow.
“I can’t believe you’re pregnant again. William isn’t even six months old!” I exclaimed as she told me the news.
“I know, I know! But Clark’s got, like, superman sperm or something. I can’t explain it. I just enjoy it.”
“Vivian!” Clark admonished, his cheeks turning pink as he shook his head at her. “One can share news without sharing everything.”
“One can share anything she likes, when she’s the one with bun in her very pretty oven,” Viv quipped, patting her just-beginning-to show tummy, and effectively shutting down the conversation as Clark now blushed even deeper.
Simon and I had gone up to visit them after the birth of their son, a beautiful little boy. The new parents were ecstatic at their good fortune. They’d been planning their own wedding to be a few months after he was born, but it looked like those plans were on hold for now.
“I want to get married back home, where all my brothers got married,” Viv said. “You remember St. Gabriel, don’t you, Simon?”
“The church on Seventh Street, right?” he asked. They’d grown up together back east in Pennsylvania.
“That’s the one, marrying Franklins off left and right. But Catholics are funny about sin. They’ll forgive anything, but they don’t like to see it right in their face, know what I mean? My mother would die a thousand deaths if she had a pregnant daughter walking down the aisle,” she said with a laugh.
“So we’ll wait until after this one is born, and get married sometime next year,” Clark finished, wrapping an arm around Viv’s shoulders and pulling her in close. “Our own kids will be there when we get hitched. How great is that?”
“Pretty great,” Viv agreed, and grinned up at him. Then she turned to me. “And speaking of pretty great, you should see the last few paintings I did. It’s a series of how the light changes over the ocean, at different points during the day. They’re pretty good, if I do say so myself.”
“I’d love to see them. You know I never have any trouble selling your stuff to my clients,” I said, thinking of when I might be able to make a trip north. Things were booming at Jillian Designs, and my schedule was full, but not overly so. I had an almost perfect balance now between work and home, and it was pretty freaking great.
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.
“Come on, let’s go congratulate our friend Shoeless Joe over there,” she said with a smirk, pointing at Mimi, who was surrounded by family and positively beaming.
Ninety minutes later we were drinking champagne under one of the most iconic San Francisco monuments, the Palace of Fine Arts. Mimi had consulted the sun charts, not in an astrological way, but in a perfectly backlit way. So not only was the sun streaming in through the church windows to exactly highlight her skin tone, she had also designed her reception around sunset, capturing that perfect moment when the sun was setting behind the rotunda. And as the lights came on and the candles glowed, the gorgeous old landmark was reflected perfectly in the pond below. Shades of burnished gold from the structure, deep indigo from the water, buttery yellows from the candlelight, and the kaleidoscope of magenta, orange, and fuchsia from the setting sun painted the backdrop of this lovely evening.
It was perfection, as only a professional organizer could ensure. Simon and I mingled with the guests, sipping our bubbly and chatting with strangers, acquaintances, and finally, friends. Up for the wedding after becoming friends with Mimi during her renovation in Mendocino, Viv Franklin was in the house. With her very dashing fiancé, Clark Barrow.
“I can’t believe you’re pregnant again. William isn’t even six months old!” I exclaimed as she told me the news.
“I know, I know! But Clark’s got, like, superman sperm or something. I can’t explain it. I just enjoy it.”
“Vivian!” Clark admonished, his cheeks turning pink as he shook his head at her. “One can share news without sharing everything.”
“One can share anything she likes, when she’s the one with bun in her very pretty oven,” Viv quipped, patting her just-beginning-to show tummy, and effectively shutting down the conversation as Clark now blushed even deeper.
Simon and I had gone up to visit them after the birth of their son, a beautiful little boy. The new parents were ecstatic at their good fortune. They’d been planning their own wedding to be a few months after he was born, but it looked like those plans were on hold for now.
“I want to get married back home, where all my brothers got married,” Viv said. “You remember St. Gabriel, don’t you, Simon?”
“The church on Seventh Street, right?” he asked. They’d grown up together back east in Pennsylvania.
“That’s the one, marrying Franklins off left and right. But Catholics are funny about sin. They’ll forgive anything, but they don’t like to see it right in their face, know what I mean? My mother would die a thousand deaths if she had a pregnant daughter walking down the aisle,” she said with a laugh.
“So we’ll wait until after this one is born, and get married sometime next year,” Clark finished, wrapping an arm around Viv’s shoulders and pulling her in close. “Our own kids will be there when we get hitched. How great is that?”
“Pretty great,” Viv agreed, and grinned up at him. Then she turned to me. “And speaking of pretty great, you should see the last few paintings I did. It’s a series of how the light changes over the ocean, at different points during the day. They’re pretty good, if I do say so myself.”
“I’d love to see them. You know I never have any trouble selling your stuff to my clients,” I said, thinking of when I might be able to make a trip north. Things were booming at Jillian Designs, and my schedule was full, but not overly so. I had an almost perfect balance now between work and home, and it was pretty freaking great.
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.
