Chapter 14

We touched down in Los Angeles shortly after lunch, Pacific Time. My Grandparents Edwards had been called to come pick us up from their Palm Springs-adjacent-retirement property. Dad offered to put everyone up in L.A. for a few days so we could do things like Disneyland and Magic Mountain instead of being stuck in a place with nothing but golf courses for entertainment. Now that I think about that though, there might be something to be said for that.

“Dad, do you play golf?”

“Huh? Why do you ask?”

“In Chicago, Mrs. Emerson mentioned that you and Bill would be golfing the day I got outfitted.”

Grandma and Grandpa Edwards were hurrying through the airport toward us, and I wanted to make this suggestion before they reached us.

“Yes, I play golf.”

“Good.” I needed to make this quick, “Why don’t we forget about Magic Mountain and go back with Grandma and Grandpa to their place instead? I know they play golf too, and there are some nice courses where they live. You and they can teach me, and that way I’ll have something else in common to do with them.”

“That’s a good idea, Tim. I’ll make the suggestion.”

We didn’t have any more time to talk about it because we were engulfed by my mom’s parents. There was no baggage for us to collect, we were strictly carry-on for this trip, so we made a quick exit out into L.A. traffic. While we were waiting in a parking lot, also known as a California freeway, Dad gave them our new proposal, which of course delighted them. Grandpa finally navigated us into Anaheim where we found the Disneyland Hotel and the suites that Dad had reserved for us.

They had a fitness center at the hotel which I planned to use prior to dinner. A little exercise would help me adjust to the time change more easily, or at least that’s what I had read. Traffic had delayed us sufficiently that there was only just enough time to work out, then get ready before we would meet at six for supper. I had to persuade Dad to join me since the fitness center wasn’t available to guests 17 or under without adult supervision. We finished up, leaving enough time to shower and change before meeting the relatives downstairs.

Dinner was nice, and I had a chance to fill Grandma and Grandpa in on our adventures in Georgia. They were surprised to hear that we had been working out there for almost a week already, and even more surprised to find out that we planned to move to Macon permanently.

“So, when would you move there? When would Tim need to start school?”

Dad and I looked at each other. We hadn’t checked that out, and while I knew Paige was at school already, I also knew she was in volleyball. I had presumed that her sport schedule meant she was practicing while we had been working on her mother’s gazebo.

“Holy smokes, Dad.” I had pulled up the school calendar on my cell phone, “They started school on August first.”

“Hmm.” He considered the schedule I was showing him, “Looks like you’ll miss about a month. We didn’t have plans to move there when we started this trip, and you’re ahead in your classes anyway, right?”

I nodded.

“So, I’m sure you won’t miss anything critical. We’re going to stick to our plans and worry about the consequences later.”

Fine for him to say, he wasn’t the one to have to deal with the consequences. But in a way, it made these next couple of weeks more exciting, playing hooky even before I was enrolled in my new High School.

We finished dinner, heading up to our rooms to get some sleep and promising to meet for breakfast in the lobby tomorrow before spending the day in Walt’s park.

Disneyland was sort of a letdown for me, and I think for the adults with me. There were a lot of rides, sure, but they seemed to be geared mostly for families with young kids. I could see enjoying it more now if I had been there as a child and had memories to relive, but that wasn’t the case.

We spent another night in the hotel before heading to the Palm Springs area where Grandma and Grandpa lived. It wasn’t that bad a drive, short enough that I was able to tag along as Dad and Grandpa played golf that afternoon.

The few days we spent with them were fun, visiting, eating, reminiscing. I showed them the video of Mandy, getting hugs from Grandma, and watching Grandpa try to blink back tears as the evidence of my mom’s training brought back memories of his eldest daughter for him.

They left us at the airport after extracting promises from us to Skype, email, call, write, use whatever means necessary to stay in touch. Then we were off to Seattle to close down that segment of our lives.

That reminded me, so I spent much of the several-hour-long flight composing emails to Mandy, Tara and Sandy, Mrs. Emerson, Dad’s parents, and at the last, Amber. Most of it was the usual: how are you, I am fine, this is what I’ve been up to, wish you were here type of stuff, but I made sure to throw in something personal to each recipient. As soon as we got to Uncle Frank and Aunt June’s, I’d hit send and hope I got everyone’s addresses right.

Both Frank and June were there at SEATAC to pick us up, Frank having brought Dad’s truck with him so we’d have transportation of our own. Dad threw me the keys that Frank handed him, telling me to get it out of parking and pull it around. I got directions as to where to find it, paid for the thirty minutes that it had occupied a stall, picked up Dad, and we were off to see what had changed around town.

We ended up eventually at the Rugetti’s, (that was Frank’s last name), pulling into their driveway shortly before dinner. Frank let us in and told us to drop our bags in the guest room where Dad would be staying. I could have Aunt June’s home office and an air mattress. No problem, I had been sleeping on the ground for half the summer.

I left to find my aunt after delivering the bags. She was in the kitchen, her back to me, preparing some type of wonderful smelling stew. My arms circled around her, ensnaring her limbs. In as gravelly a voice as I could muster, I growled, “You lied to me, lady.”

She stiffened. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Mr. McKenzie.”

I let her go, but not before giving her a peck on the cheek to let her know I wasn’t angry with her. “We found out about the potato salad.”

Aunt June spun around. “I’m sorry, Tim. I wanted to tell you but Jenny said I couldn’t. And then this last year, I wanted to tell you about our trips, but I was sworn to secrecy on those too. Forgive me?”

I waved away her guilt. “It all worked out. I told Grandma that whenever you or Mom made that potato salad, she was there with us too. It meant a lot to her that the two of you would do that.”

Aunt June was happy about that. We talked for a while as I watched her cook. She asked me about our plans, but I was secretive, telling her that Dad had something to discuss with her and Frank. The longer our conversation went, the more she looked as if something was puzzling her. It came to her when she asked me to take down a serving bowl from a high cupboard.

“That’s it. That’s what’s been bugging me. You’re taller,” she looked me over, “and bigger. Hold on, let’s get your dad.” She stuck her head into the hallway, “James, come here!”

When he appeared, she lined us up back to back, and then side by side. “You are. You’re taller. I’d say you grew an inch or two over summer. Your dad’s the small one now.”

Wow, my dad had never been small to me. He was huge, and in many ways, larger than life. It was disconcerting to find out that I was bigger than he was.

Aunt June came over and checked out my arms, “You got bigger too.” She then checked Dad, “Both of you.” Her hands ran over my chest until Frank broke up the grope-fest.

“Enough of that, Honey.”

In an aside to me he said, “She’s wanted to do that since she saw the Tango. I gave her permission, but only this one time.”

That got us all laughing. I pitched in to help serve dinner.

After dinner, Dad took Aunt June away to discuss business and prime her for his new proposal. Uncle Frank and I sat in the living room talking about the summer exploits, how many and how big the fish were that we hooked, and generally catching up with each other.

“You’re going to kill me, kid,” he said at one point.

“What do you mean?”

“Let’s just say, I’ve had two ‘above the table, nothing that gets us kicked out’ dates with my wife since mid-July. Your cousin will be born sometime in March we think.”

I was pissed, but happy for them at the same time. “Dad was supposed to delete that video, I saw him do it. How many copies are there floating around?”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. My wife and I have the only copies, and if it means that much to you, I’ll make sure they get deleted. But just so you know, you are a legend with Seattle’s Firefighting community. I get to be the uncle of a legend.”

This was not good. I hoped he was right, and there were no other videos.

“You have to help me out though, Tim. How do you do it?”

I told him how Mom admonished me to pay attention. He just shook his head.

“I thought I did, but I am not in your league at all. I’m dying here. Give me a date idea so she doesn’t torture me with another ‘above the table’ night.”

Really? Why was I suddenly responsible for their love life? I was lost until I remembered something about Uncle Frank and Aunt June: they loved Tapas, she more than he. An idea formed.

“Uncle Frank, you know that Tapas restaurant you like?”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t go there. Find a different one that she’s never been to. Take her out, and when you get seated, pull out a silk scarf and blindfold her so she can’t see what she’s eating.”

“That doesn’t sound very romantic.”

“It is, just wait. You do all the ordering, but not so she can hear. Tell Aunt June she’s not allowed to say anything and not allowed to use her hands to eat, and then watch her as you feed her little bites of everything. When there’s something that she likes, make sure that you order more of that. Keep inundating her with sensations, taste, touch, smells, and it will drive her wild. Pay attention to what she’s telling you without words and I guarantee you’ll have a fun night.”

He was still doubtful, but he agreed to give it a shot.

Dad and Aunt June came back after a while, he looking hopeful and she excited.

“Well?” I asked.

“They need to talk it over, and then we’ll see.”

The following day was spent making arrangements for all our belongings to be placed into one or more intermodal containers and shipped to Georgia. We were even able to get all of Dad’s tools and his trailer for the truck in one of them, with room to spare. He contacted his old crew and asked if they wanted to keep building houses for him. He paid prevailing wage on every job, he could afford to, given how much his houses cost the buyers, and so they all said yes. He mentioned that there was a chance they would be working all over the country at times, but mainly he would try to keep them busy near their homes.

So, we had a crew, and we had an architect/designer, but we still needed the front end, the business side. Uncle Frank and Aunt June talked it over. When he found out that she could keep working in Seattle, he was on board. He had a good job, but Aunt June made in the low six figures each year selling Dad’s houses. She had even told Dad about the coming baby and no one saw a problem with her having this career and a family at the same time.

After a week in Seattle tying up loose ends we were on a plane back home. That came with its own challenges: finding a place to live, enrolling in school, getting a contractor’s license in Georgia, along with all the other things that come with a major life upheaval.

We tackled the first one, first – finding a place to live. I still couldn’t get Dad’s sketch of his dream house out of my mind. I broached a possibility with him when we got back to Grandma and Grandpa’s.

“You know that house you said you and Mom were going to build with me?

“Sure, I have that sketch somewhere around here.”

“Well, I know there aren’t any mountains around Macon, but what if we bought some property and you designed something to fit it that incorporated the dream you had?”

I could see the wheels turning in his mind. Aunt June was currently entertaining offers in the range of $3 to $3.5 million for the house in which I grew up. We, or rather he, had more than enough money to buy just about anything he wanted to down here. It would mean so much more to us though, if we built it. So why not?

“What about school, Tim? We need to get you enrolled.”

“Dad, we’ve gone this long, what’s a few more days?”

He was silent for a bit. “Let’s do it. I’ll get with Dad tomorrow to see if he knows of any property we might want to look at. You and I will check it out.”

The door to Dad’s room opened, “Not without us you won’t.” Both Grandma and Grandpa stood there, adamant that they would be looking at sites with us.

I could see the mock pain on Dad’s face, “Don’t you two ever not eavesdrop?”

I laughed when Grandma’s finger got right up in on him, “You kept us in an information blackout for twenty-five years. You bet we’re going to eavesdrop when you’re under our roof with our grandson.”

“Looks like we need to build ourselves a place, fast.” Dad told me.

Grandpa had contacts. He and Grandma took us on a wild ride the following day, showing us plots that were for one thing, small, and for another, devoid of personality. Many of them were cookie-cutter lots sized for the affluent, but with nothing to distinguish them from any other piece of land around.

They were ready to give up, as was I, when they showed us two adjoining acreages, a half section all together. There was a slight rise, a hill really, toward the back of the property that was wooded, hiding the last third. At the front of the land, toward the road, there was a clearing with a little pond. To the right of it, there was a bit of a roll, vanishing into yet more trees.

I looked, and I could tell that behind that hill, there was a shop and a shed. Up front, a driveway on the right side of the property led to the front of our house, while at the left end was a larger road leading back to the hidden shop and all our construction equipment. Everyone got quiet for a moment.

“Do you see it, Dad?”

“Yup. To our left is the equipment access, curving around behind the hill where the shop and shed are. On the right, the drive leading to the house over by that rolling area in front of the trees. If we clear that forested area a little and let some of those pines mature, this could be our signature property here.”

I saw his vision, as if we had shared a picture between us. “Some peach trees would be nice to the left of the house in the backyard behind the garage.”

“Just what I was thinking.”

“How soon can we start?” Dad asked Grandpa.

“Hold on, you need the property, plans and permits, and then there’s financing, and finding a construction company.”

Dad pointed at Grandpa and then me, “Already have the construction company, don’t need financing, the plans are up here,” he gestured to his head, “so we only need property and permits. Who do we talk to about the property, and how fast can we close on it?”

Grandpa was laughing, “I know the guy who owns the land. He’s been trying to get rid of it, but the economy took a nosedive a little while back and no one wants to buy it. I’m pretty sure he’d like six-fifty, but that’s not very reasonable and he’ll settle for just over five.”

“Is that a good price?”

“A little over five? Yeah, you won’t get taken, and he’ll make some money.”

Dad wanted to make sure he knew what he was getting. “Any problems with the property? Old gas well? Contamination? Drainage?”

“No,” Grandpa said, “I looked into both parcels a few years back thinking that I could maybe develop it, but I couldn’t come up with the five. You can tie into city services at the road, the telecom put fiber optic just on the other side of the ditch from you, the land drains well, no EPA issues or remediation needed. You want me to look him up?”

Dad nodded, “Offer him $500,000 cash on the barrel head. If he won’t swing that, you can go as high as $550,000, but anything over that you need to check with me. I’ll pay any back taxes under $30,000.”

“Are you sure about the back taxes?”

“I figure there are about thirty acres of trees on the backside of that hill we’ll need to have removed. That should net us about $35,000 after we get Georgia-Pacific to cut a maintenance road back in there for us. I’ll have them do some shelterwood cutting and thinning behind the house site like Tim and I were discussing which should bring in a little more. So, no problem on the back taxes. Oh, and one condition, we’re going to want to start on it tomorrow.”