Distribution Ch. 05

"I've never been married. We lived together for over six years, I adopted Peg's daughter and we had a son together, but she wouldn't marry me. Marian and I were talking about getting married, but it wasn't because we loved each other. She was in a position to help me monetarily if I needed help. It would have been a marriage of convenience, and that's only one of the things that I would like to take back if I could."

Paige's gray eyes took me in for a solid minute. "I believe you, Brian. I've done some things that I'm not proud of either."

I wasn't ready to tell her about Georgia, and I wasn't in the mood to hear what she thought was so despicable. "Who is Russell?"

This struck her as humorous. She looked at the bottom of her coffee cup, smiling. "Russell is my brother-in-law. He wants to take his brother's place, but believe me, he's no Patrick Kindle."

"He's not the only one that's in pursuit, is he?"

She showed me a set of even teeth. "You're very perceptive. Are you sure it's over between you and Marian?"

"My son told me he doesn't want to give up his room. That's good enough for me."

She stood up, dish, spoon and coffee cup in hand. I did the same, thinking that I would follow her to the sink, but we found ourselves in an awkward hug, holding the dish and spoon in one hand and the cup in the other, while trying to use our forearms to draw the other one to us.

"I'm looking forward to hearing the wicked things you've done," she said as she pulled away.

The other members of the distribution committee were arriving. We discussed the agenda for the meeting as we walked to the gazebo to join them. I was able to explain the importance of getting unanimous approval to award Uncle Mackey's tools to Charlie. Paige nodded her understanding and I took a seat next to Nadine.

"It was good to see you guys together yesterday," she whispered to me. Unfortunately, Mr. McMahan overheard her, and I could tell by the way he was glaring at me, that he knew it was Paige she was talking about. He didn't appear to be happy with her, either.

As we had discussed, Paige first asked for a report on the silent auction, which I supplied. She then asked me to provide the assets of the estate, and I handed out the very conservative reports that I had prepared. This prompted the same question from Mr. McMahan, Ms. Dickens and Nadine: 'When would the distributions begin?'

I pointed to the report that I'd just handed out, reminding them that the bulk of the estate was invested in stock, treasuries and certificates of deposit, all of which were scheduled to come due within the next twenty months.

Paige called for new business, and I addressed the group, telling them of my wish to bestow Uncle Mackey's tools to Charlie. Ms. Dickens was the most vocal, wanting to know the value of the tools, and speaking negatively about the way Charlie had eavesdropped on our meetings. I told everyone about how he had worked on the pump until we got it to work, and how he'd tried to make the windows open and close.

The first vote was ninety-one to six. In addition to Ms. Dickens, Mr. McMahan was also a dissenter.

"Gordon, may I see you in private?" Paige asked, walking several feet onto the lawn. We watched her talk to him, pleading really. He kept shaking his head. At one point he stomped his foot, and it was clear that he was saying 'no.' She was just as animated, but restrained, not acting like a two-year-old who was not getting her way.

"Hear that?" I asked, loud enough for Mr. McMahan to hear me. Charlie was rounding his house on his tractor, heading our way. "Mr. Hubert's been cutting the grass all summer. He also drove Uncle Mackey and Aunt Elsie to medical appointments and shopping. Shall I tell him to submit a bill for his services?"

Paige and Mr. McMahan returned to the gazebo and the next vote was ninety-seven for and zero. Charlie was to receive the tools.

"I don't see why you should be the one to tell him that we voted to give him the tools, Brian."

"Would you like to tell him, Ms. Dickens?" She said that it would be her privilege and it was agreed that she would give Charlie the news.

The next order of business was my plea to obtain quotes to have the property connected to town water. After several minutes of explaining how difficult it was becoming to keep the well pump working, Paige called for a vote. The motion passed, eighty-eight to nine.

"If this is the way it's going to be with you two ganging up on the rest of us, I may as well go to work and skip the meetings," Ms. Dickens complained.

"It was only a vote to obtain quotes. There will be another vote before we appropriate funds," Paige pointed out, and when there was no response from the others, she asked me to continue.

I lumped getting quotations for new windows with getting quotes to paint the exterior of the house. What the hell! Why waste time if they were going to ignore my requests. The vote passed, ninety-one to six. Ms. Dickens and Mr. McMahan stared with defiance at Nadine for voting with Paige and me.

Before we broke up, I reminded everyone about the yard sale we would be holding on Saturday. "I'll place the ads today, and we'll get everything ready on Friday," I said, but I wasn't sure if anyone was listening.

"Our next meeting will be on Monday. I'll be back on Friday," Paige said, and then to me. "I'll call you well before the bus gets here."

"Call me, I'll pick you up and bring you here. Brian's going to be busy preparing for the yard sale," Mr. McMahan said.

"No, Gordon. I agreed to let you take me to the bus station today. I'm sure Brian will have time to come after me on Friday. You will, won't you?"

I was a little confused. I'd just learned that she was leaving soon and would be back on Friday. "Sure, Paige, I'll come after you."

"Be sure and get a permit for the yard sale, Brian. I believe the fee is only ten dollars, but the town is very strict about knowing where yard sales are taking place," Nadine warned me.

Charlie's tractor was making so much noise that the meeting would have had to break up even if we were not finished.

I didn't get much of a chance to talk to Paige before she left because Mr. McMahan was hanging around waiting for her to get ready to go.

She did hug me, and tell me that she would call that night. I could only wave goodbye as she left with Mr. McMahan.

The rest of the week went by slowly. I got very little accomplished. While I was at the town hall picking up the permit for the yard sale, I looked into what was required to connect the house to town water. The building inspector gave me a list of contractors that had performed the service in the past, but refused to recommend any of them or to warn me which ones to stay clear of. He didn't respond to my request for names of contractors that replaced windows, except to say that replacement windows were different than town water.

Charlie stopped by to say that Ms. Dickens had informed him that he was to receive Mackey's tools. He asked me twice if the vote had been unanimous, saying that he was verifying what Ms. Dickens had told him.

Paige called that evening. "I'm sorry that I didn't make the lobster roll for you. What did you have to eat today?"

"I stopped for rolls, and mixed it up. There's enough left for lunch tomorrow and the next day."

"I should have told you that I was leaving. That was mean of me to spring it on you that way."

"It's okay. What did you have to do to get Mr. McMahan to vote for Charlie getting the tools?"

"Did you see us arguing?"

"Yes."

"I had to agree to let him drive me to the bus, and..."

"And, what?"

"It involves you."

"Me, really?" realizing that we were talking like two seventh graders. But it was fun, and I was enjoying myself.

"He wanted me to go to a church supper with him. It's on Friday night."

"What does that have to do with me?"

"You're going with us."

"Oh, no, I'm no good at church suppers."

"Brian, you have to go. I don't want to be alone with him."

"Is that what you were arguing about?"

She was quiet for several seconds. "I told him that I wouldn't go unless you went with us."

"I was just teasing. Of course I'll go with you if you agree to send me messages with your knee."

"Brian, are you sure that you're over Marian?"

"I'm sure," I said. That was the only time we talked until she called from the bus on Friday afternoon.

The dealer came to pick up the two pieces of furniture in the living room and the bed from the upstairs bedroom. I sent him and his friend upstairs to get the bed while I found a place to store the letters and looked for money under the cushions. I only found fifty-five cents, no folding money.

I sent request for bids to the contractors who had experience connecting town water to homes before, but accomplished very little else. I became nostalgic when I saw a school bus stop to pick up kids at the end of the street. Paige was constantly on my mind.

Two significant things happened on Thursday, one bad and one good.

I smelled trouble when I saw a Volvo station wagon stop in front of the house. A lady was dressed smartly in a business suit, and carrying a swanky looking briefcase. She stopped when she got halfway to the house, snapped a picture, and kept walking. I waited until she rang the doorbell the second time before I went to the door.

She introduced herself as a member of the historical preservation society. I didn't invite her inside. Instead, I stepped out the door, thinking that the exterior was the extent of the preservation society's authority.

She opened the briefcase and handed me her business card and a sheet of paper entitled, 'Maintaining the Past.' It was basically a list of taboos for owners of older homes. At the bottom of the page was, 'Society for the Preservation of History,' and the town by-laws that gave the society jurisdiction over the appearance of older homes in the town.

I introduced myself and gave her one of my business cards.

Mrs. Sarah Avery was looking at how the clapboards on the front of the house were peeling. She snapped a picture, and another one of the front door. She walked around the house. I followed. She snapped more pictures.

"That structure will need to be straightened and reinforced."

"We're planning to have it razed and the debris hauled away," I said.

Mrs. Avery shot a look at me that would have leveled the barn had it been directed toward it. "Mr. Driver, do you have no appreciation for historic structures? The barn was built in seventeen ninety-eight, one year after the house. It is the society's wish that it be preserved."

She was a tall woman, about fifty, had nice legs, and stood erect. Her mind was made up, but I had to try to change it.

"Mrs. Avery, would you like to look inside the barn to see what would be involved in fulfilling the society's wish? The reason the structure leans to the right is that some of the beams are rotting. Squaring it up would be a major undertaking."

We were at the back of the house. She became more interested in the items that were strewn around the back yard than what I was saying about the barn. "We're having a yard sale on Saturday," I explained.

"Saturday, you say? I love yard sales," she said, running her hand over a saddle maker's bench.

"That may not be a yard sale item. If it doesn't sell, I'll buy it and put it in my antique shop."

"You have an antique shop? Does that mean you have an appreciation for old things, or are you only interested in making a profit?"

"I enjoy old things, but I don't mind letting them go if I make a profit."

"How much are you asking for the saddle maker's bench?"

"Two hundred dollars," I said.

"I'll take it."

She snapped some shots of the back of the house, but we never made it to the other side. I carried the bench to her car and told her to make the check out to the Peoples' Trust.

"I can recommend a competent contractor who will give you a fair price for the work on the barn, Mr. Driver."

"If you're serious about us having to preserve the barn, I'll need something in writing to show the other members of the distribution committee."

She made a note to stipulate her wishes in writing.

"Are you acquainted with Harold Whitney, Mrs. Avery?" I asked, and got a good report on his skills and reputation.

I had an urge to ask if she could recommend an aluminum siding contractor, but didn't think that Mrs. Avery was the type that would know I was pulling her leg. She got in her Volvo and drove off, seemingly happy with her purchase.

The good thing that happened was that I found the key to the locked file cabinet. It was tucked away in a corner of the game table drawer.

The file cabinet not only yielded the elusive checkbook. There were more stock certificates. I couldn't wait to give Paige the news. I couldn't shake the thought that she wanted to feel sand between her toes.