Margie Gilday Ch. 03

Jen's father had sent her two hundred dollars to buy a warm winter coat as a Christmas present. That's when she informed me that her folks were moving to Minnesota the second week of November. Her father was a CPA and would, under contract, take over companies that were on the verge of bankruptcy. Once he got them back on their feet he'd move on to the next company.

"Jeez! No wonder you moved around a lot when you were young," I told her.

"Well, I knew this move was coming. That's why I was hoping this job with the hospital would work out. It got me out of the house and out on my own. It's nice to have roots somewhere."

We found a place called Boutique de Ski... something like that. It sounded expensive but they actually had some pretty good deals. I helped Jen pick out a parka, a pair of snow boots and a knitted hat, all in matching blue. A little flirting with the manager got us a ten percent discount on top of the already discounted price.

By the time we got back to the hotel we were both exhausted. All day shopping on four hours sleep is never a good idea. We had dinner at the hotel before retiring to our room to watch a movie spoken in French with English captions. "You know, I really miss my apartment," was the last thing I remember Jen saying before I woke up around six o'clock Sunday morning. We showered, packed up and ate a continental breakfast in the room just off the lobby. I wrote down everything that was served in my notebook figuring I could apply the info to the breakfast at the Red Wheel.

By nine o'clock we were on the road, stopping only once to switch drivers. I knew Jen would never take money for gas if I offered it to her so when we got to Dover I pulled into the gas station across from the Red Wheel and put a full tank of gas on my credit card. She started to argue but I told her it was too late.

We pulled into the driveway in time to see Dan closing the tailgate of his truck and Jim coming out of the barn. "I'm glad you made it. I was just leaving and was hoping to see you before I go," Dan smiled.

"I knew it was your last day and I didn't want to miss you," I told him.

"Well, you're in good hands. I don't know when I'll be back up. I'm still the unofficial foreman but Jim here is more than capable of handling everything."

"I'm going to miss you." I said as I teared up.

"I'll miss you too. You've got a beautiful place here. I was pleased to be part of it." Dan gave me a hug and kissed my cheek. "Make your folks proud," he whispered.

I guess the most touching moment is when he turned to Jim. "And you! I couldn't be more proud of you if you were my own son. You learn quickly and did one hell of a job. Here, I want you to have something." Dan reached down and took the hammer out of its holster and handed it to Jim.

Jim looked shocked. "I can't take that. It was your grandfather's."

"Yeah, well where I'm going it might get lost or broken and I know my grandfather would want it in the hands of someone who would take care of it." Dan patted Jim's shoulder before shaking his hand. "Take care of this place and call me if you need anything."

"That goes for you too," he said to me as he climbed into his truck. He winked and nodded as he started down the driveway to take on his new assignment in Adams.

"Well, I don't know about you but I'm starved and this is the last week the Clam Box is open." Jen said, looking at me. How 'bout we order one of everything."

"Sounds good to me," I answered and we headed for the back door. We had just reached the stairs when Jen tapped me on the shoulder and pointed back out to the driveway. Jim was standing there alone, staring at the hammer Dan had given to him. Jen walked over and put her arm around him.

"We can't order anything until we know what you want," she smiled.

"I can't believe he gave me his hammer," Jim spoke in a very solemn voice.

"Maybe he just wanted to leave a small piece of himself behind. What ever the reason, your Dan now," she said, hugging his shoulder. "Now let's go in before we all starve to death."