Chapter 45

Friday after class we headed home immediately in order to bank the fire that Frank was tending for us. They had been invited as well, and Erik Nilson’s oldest daughter was babysitting for them for the evening. When we got back, Frank left to get ready and collect his wife, returning just before seven with a bottle of wine that they liked. I already had opened one red and one white, giving them time to breathe, but resupplies were welcomed.

Around seven, we heard a couple of cars pull up outside. When our doorbell didn’t ring within what I considered to be an amount of time appropriate to walk from a vehicle to the front, I exited to the porch to see what had occurred. The Dean and the Dr. were simply standing there with their spouses, looking at the restored glory of our house and that of Frank and June’s.

“They look even better from the inside, you know.”

That broke the ice, and Paige was able to welcome Dr. Theodore Hight, his wife Kristen, Dr. Lois Stiles and her husband Dr. Leonard Walsh into our home. I knew Dr. Walsh since he was in the Architectural program, but I hadn’t known that he was married to Dr. Stiles. Of course we made introductions all around.

Uncle Frank was impressed by all the titles as folks were introduced. The situation was reversed when Aunt June introduced him as Lieutenant Frank Rugetti of the Seattle Fire Department. That even came as a surprise to me and Paige.

“Really?” Paige asked, giving him a hug. “When did that happen?”

“I wrote the exams in November, found out I passed and was promoted on Monday. There was a little too much going on in your lives just then to share it with you.”

That received laughs from everyone here. Paige, ever the Southern Belle, hostessing duties ingrained in that heritage, asked if folks would like to tour the house.

Of course they would, particularly Dr. Walsh, or Leonard as he asked to be called. We were all going to be on a first-name basis for the evening, although not in class. Leonard wanted to see the flourishes that Dad had put into the design and how he had incorporated many of the original features of the house into the renovation. Paige led the rest of them through while I gave a more in-depth tour to my professor. We arrived back in the living room where drinks and appetizers had appeared, fifteen minutes after the other tour concluded.

“I have to confess, Tim, until my wife mentioned you this week and showed me the research she had done on your company, I had simply thought you one of our more gifted students. Now I know why you are. We have copies of the Architectural Digest article on your dad in the offices since he’s an alumnus, but I hadn’t made the connection. This house is amazing! I just wish I could see some of the others.”

Uncle Frank shook his head. They had a five year-old and a toddler, and the state of their house usually reflected their life. The McKenzie house across the road was a different matter, being empty at the moment and me having keys. I offered to show him.

“You had better be back in a half hour, Babe,” Paige warned me. “That pizza won’t make itself.”

“We will,” I promised, setting my phone alarm for twenty-five minutes so we’d have a cushion. “We’re just going over for a quick tour.”

“Uh huh,” Sarcastic Paige replied.

We hustled over and walked through the house. When my alarm went off, we abandoned the discussion of the kitchen, hustling back. Leonard wanted to know something before we went in. “The master suite in your house isn’t being used, and the two of you have separate rooms, yet you seem to be a couple.”

“And you want to know why we’re not enjoying all aspects of living together?” I finished for him.

“Well ... yes.”

“We’re engaged, but we promised our parents and each other that we’d wait.”

Leonard nodded. “It must be difficult though.”

I went for the shock value. “Only until I remind myself that she’s actually my sister and our younger siblings would probably be confused by anything we did before marriage.”

My prof stumbled on the step up to the porch.

“Come on in. I’m sure Paige is already telling that story. If she isn’t, then I’ll tell it.”

“This I’ve got to hear.”

She was, but she had already passed that point. We came in to hear about getting off the plane in Seattle carrying a three-year-old. Paige made sure that the story of my pre-school conquest was told in all its vibrant detail.

For some reason, Paige wasn’t believed, all eyes turning to a nodding Aunt June. “That’s my sister’s boy. He’s definitely the ‘Lady-whisperer.’”

I didn’t panic, but I could tell this was going to turn into a roast of Tim if we didn’t divert the heat to the pizzas.

“Well, since we’ve heard the best of the Tim stories already, how about we show you how we make pies around here?”

Paige heard the unspoken request, leading everyone with their drinks in hand, into the kitchen. The group of us spent the next ninety minutes around the counters and island, making and eating our creations without ever sitting down. We made sure that enough wine flowed to lubricate the conversation, but not enough to get anyone into trouble. After the oven cooled too much to make a quality pie, and everyone was satisfied, we cleaned ourselves then met back up in the formal living room.

Over the next two hours we shared our story of house-hunting in Seattle, seeing and recognizing the opportunity that this neighborhood represented, opening and operating a new business and holding company, and the subsequent sales of properties as we turned them around. Lois had a better grasp of the numbers than we thought, asking about the financial side of it.

“The way I figure it, and I’ve researched this, you managed to find backing to put a little north of twenty million dollars into play. I’m curious as to how two high school seniors did that.”

Paige handled that. “We know some private equity investors and they were quick to jump on board. With that, we started a holding company with everyone receiving shares in proportion to the amount they invested.”

Lois wasn’t done. “And the name of it? MMR Holdings. Does that have a significance to it?”

My fiancé was biting her lip and I knew she was trying to decide how much to reveal.

“It’s up to you, Sweet Pea. I’ll support you in whatever you decide, but we may need to get married sooner so I don’t have to run off all the gold-diggers.”

“If I tell you, do you promise it won’t leave this room?”

She caught Lois with a stare, “And it doesn’t get asked as part of the course materials either.”

Kristen Hight was the only one to laugh. “I’m an attorney dear, give me a dollar and it’ll be privileged.”

Paige held out a hand, I dutifully retrieved my wallet, handed her a one and then sat back down. Now everyone was laughing as the money found a new owner.

“And the rest of you?” Paige wanted to know.

There were promises from the other three.

“Okay, you want to know about MMR Holdings.”

Paige pointed to me. “McKenzie,” to herself, “Mercer,” and then to Frank and June, “Rugetti.” She had to clarify, “There’s more than one McKenzie of course, Mom and Dad and Grandma and Grandpa McKenzie being in on the deal.”

Everyone nodded, but Lois wasn’t satisfied. “No, that still doesn’t compute. There had to be a big backer.”

I tried to let Paige off the hook. “Well, Paige and I bought this place together, and between us, we put three into the pot. I don’t remember how much June and Frank put in, you’d have to ask them.”

“About half of what you guys did individually,” June offered.

Paige explained, “Mom and Dad invested and so did Grandma and Grandpa. And then there was the big money that let us leverage what all of us had put in. That was my trust. I talked Mom into investing in real estate and so far it’s been a good idea.”

Lois was nodding. “Now it begins to make sense. But how did you get so many properties at such good prices?”

Aunt June fielded that. “We ran it through multiple agents, all of whom owed me favors so they did it at cost. One of our conditions was that the holding company would own the properties and that every one of them had to close on the same day. You should have seen the comps move when that happened. Nothing illegal, unethical or immoral about how we snatched them up. I think we picked up in excess of fifty listings in one fell swoop. After that, Tim and his grandfather hired crews and went to town.”

Paige picked up the thread, “By the time I had to go to Volleyball camp my freshman year, we had finished this house, Frank and June’s and Tim was doing some practical application of management principles with crews on the house across the street. That was when things began to take off. I think we sold off the last of the properties in this neighborhood last year. Between June and Mom, we’ve kept picking up new properties, but now we’re engaging MR&R at market prices on them instead of cost plus.”

Lois wanted some more numbers. “What was your ROI, if you care to share?”

Paige proved she could be cagey. “Let’s just say we had well over a three hundred percent return and leave it at that. It’s lower now that Tim is gouging us, but we’re still way above any stock market return you’ve ever heard of.”

“Hey! We’re not gouging anyone. We charge market rate for exceptional quality.” I was a little hurt.

“I know, Babe.” Paige giggled, “I was messing with you.”

Ted, the Dean, had a question. “How does an eighteen year old have one point five million to invest, and then buy and renovate a home like this on the money left over?”

“Oh, that’s easy, and Dr. Walsh can back me up on this. My dad builds very high-end luxury homes that sell in the multi-million dollar range and I’ve been working for him since I was ten. I’ve managed builds for him since I was sixteen. The summer before my senior year of high school, I was project manager on four custom spec-houses he was building, I was foreman on one build, and I covered for Dad when he had to travel. He paid me a fair wage.”

“Don’t forget, Babe, he paid you for building your house, too.”

I squeezed Paige’s hand. “That’s right, I was project manager, foreman and contractor on the house where Mom and Dad live, out in Georgia. Dad paid me for that too.”

Paige was proud of me and didn’t want to leave out any accomplishments. “You built that single-handedly.”

“Ha! You keep saying that, but you know it’s not true. Mostly, but not all.”

Kristen Hight proved that in addition to being an attorney, she had a very discerning eye.

“Okay, but that doesn’t explain the impeccable taste all through the house: the furniture, decorations, artwork, hell, you’ve got a Steinway Grand Piano in the next room. The rosewood four-poster bed in the master suite is a ten thousand dollar piece of furniture and it’s a matched set with the armoires, dressing table, and hope chest. Together that’s twenty to thirty thousand dollars worth of furniture in that room alone.”

“You didn’t pay that much, did you, Babe?” Paige was teasing.

“No, I think the wood came to less than three thousand dollars.”

Kristen rolled her eyes, turning to her husband. “Ted, these kids live in a house nicer than that of the University President, their furnishings are museum or design studio quality, and they run multi-million dollar companies. And that kitchen, what I wouldn’t give to have their kitchen! What are they doing at your school?”

The Dean appeared to love his wife like I love Paige. He looked at her and wanted her to have all the things she desired. “We can put in a kitchen like theirs, Honey.”

“No, we can’t, Ted,” she contradicted him. “Ask Leonard how much he thinks that kitchen cost.”

Leonard didn’t wait to be asked, he was mentally appraising all of the features. He excused himself and went to refresh his memory of what we had, coming back with an estimate.

“Ninety to one hundred thousand I’d say.”

He saw Paige’s index finger pointing upwards.

“Hundred ten?”

Still up.

“One twenty?”

Her hand wavered as if to say ‘In that range.’

Now Aunt June was surprised. “You put a one hundred and twenty thousand dollar kitchen in my house?”

I just shrugged. I had mirrored ours in her new place because I wanted her to have the best. I had told Frank about it since the differential between what she had settled on and what I provided was a gift and had to be reported as income to them, but obviously he hadn’t let her know. “You’ve paid for it in potato salad equity over the years.”

“No, we can’t accept that.” She wanted to argue.

I shrugged again. “Okay, get us a one hundred and twenty thousand dollar wedding present and we’ll call it good.”

She just about choked on her wine, but she saw how absurd it was.

“Thank you, Tim, Paige. It’s a very nice gift.”

Kristen laughed. “Unbelievable. But now I have to know, who did the interior design?”

“You tell her, Sweet Pea.”

“That would be LM Designs; they’re back in business after a three year shut down.”

“And the hits keep coming.”

Kristen looked around and saw that she was the only guest to understand who LM Designs was.

“Leonard, when an architect works with an interior designer to integrate everything in a house, how much cost does that add?”

She saw the understanding in his eyes. “Now, double, or even triple that. LM Designs is to your industry what Maserati is to the auto industry.” She simply shook her head, and the topic finally dropped.

“So, when are you two getting married?” Lois asked.

That set a lighter note and got Paige talking about the wedding for the rest of the evening. We guys excused ourselves and enjoyed the media center until the women came to find their men. We had a good time all-in-all, and Lois, Dr. Stiles, got the background information she was looking for.

The semester proceeded. We kept up with school and work, and wedding planning. Finally, it was our turn in the hot seat in our management class, and the students in there picked apart our every decision. We had to defend ourselves from all the armchair quarterbacks, and there were two hundred of them. I would have rather had to write that analysis instead. We took our finals, and then we were done for the year. Paige would be walking; parents and family were arriving for that, and then staying through the wedding.

Grandma brought out a new dress for my fiancé to wear under her robe along with another few for another ceremony and party. Graduation day turned out to be hot and uncomfortably humid but we suffered through it to see Ms. Mercer announced Summa Cum Laude. I bought her a very expensive string of pearls as a graduation present and she wore them to the restaurant dinner we hosted.

Once grad was done, all attention was focused on the wedding. It was only a week away and everything was still on schedule. We were working off the project management schedule I had created back in January, and there were very few open lines left. Everything was ordered and paid for. All we needed now were the out of town guests. Those started arriving three days before the main event. There were rooms for them in our house, in the McKenzie house, in hotels, even at Frank and June’s (Mom and Dad stayed there and the twins had fun with Siobhan).

Trent showed up and was lodged with us. His sister and her husband came in a day later and took another of our rooms. I was working myself into a frenzy trying to make sure everything was perfect when something about that thought jogged a memory for me.

Perfect. It won’t be perfect. I’m a McKenzie, but first and foremost – I’m human. There was something about Grandpa, and being obnoxiously right. Suddenly it fell into place for me.

I had gotten too close to the event itself and forgot that my life with my bride was about the journey, not the destination. Shoot, Paige had even told me that when we started to discuss the wedding and she said it was only a blip in our marriage. The vows I had been struggling with got easier. The music selection, the hunt for the ultimate reception playlist, was over. My mind recalled the first Christmas that Dad and I had ever spent with the Mercer women, about walking the path together and I was content. Paige noticed.

“Are you okay, Babe? You’ve been about as relaxed as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs, and now you’re serene.” She looked puzzled and concerned for my wellbeing.

My smile appeared to make her day.

“I’m fine, Paige. Really, really fine. I don’t think I’ve told you today yet, how much I love you and cannot wait to be married to you.”

It was no effort at all to take her in my arms and hug her, pouring all the love I could into our embrace. “What about you, Dear? You look stressed.”

Lines popped out on her face when I mentioned that. “I am. Could you bottle up whatever it is you’re on and give me some?”

Sure. I nibbled on her ear, evoking a little squeal and laughter. “Journey, Sweet Pea, not destination.”

I pulled back to see the lines smooth out.

“Journey.” Paige’s hand caressed my cheek. “How is it that you know the right things to say? I love you, Babe.”

She spent some moments just looking at me before the wedding timeline reasserted itself. “Now, I want you to pack your stuff and move across the street for the next few days along with the rest of our Georgia friends. You helped, but I really just want to jump your bones right now, and I can’t do that so we have to remove the temptation.”

I was sent upstairs to grab my stuff, only to find that she had already been through my closet and there were bags ready.

It took two trips to lug the things she had prepared for me, over to the other McKenzie mansion. On the second trip she met me as I was about to go through the door over to my temporary abode.