Chapter 1

The beach at Cherry Grove Point in North Myrtle Beach looked remarkably similar to Folly Beach. The major difference, I thought, was that Cherry Point was two and a half hours farther away. Parking wasn’t as easy, with hotels lining the waterfront. Oh well, the only way to know that was to make the drive north. Now, we knew.

We spread our towels out and made ourselves comfortable. I pulled out my textbook for economics and started in. Kim was happy to simply relax and soak in the sun. The book was a lot easier than I’d expected and after a couple of hours, I was done with the first six chapters. I gave Kim a kiss, grabbed my goggles, and waded out into a very calm Atlantic.

I looked down the beach, trying to spot the pink hotel that would mark one mile but I couldn’t see it. I had my nifty new Timex Triathlon Ironman watch on, so I’d be able to tell about when I’d swum a mile anyway. Swimming from north to south, the beach was on my right and I didn’t need bilateral breathing. I wondered which direction the swim was for the Savannah half Ironman.

I settled into an easy pace, not trying to set a speed record. I simply tried to note the differences between pool and open water. I decided there were four major differences. The first thing you notice is that the Atlantic is about ten degrees cooler. That actually favors the distance swimmer, so that was a good thing. There’s simply no way to overheat when the water temperature is below seventy. The next thing is your buoyancy. The salt content in the water makes you more buoyant and that’s kind of nice. It’s probably one of the bigger advantages, especially for weaker swimmers.

Those are both advantages. The two disadvantages would definitely make it more difficult. The first was the lack of a lane line. You’re on your own to swim a straight line. I figured that more experienced swimmers wouldn’t have as much of a problem with that. Less experienced swimmers would probably tend to swim in circles unless they kept track of the beach. The last thing could really make a difference. Choppy water could make breathing a bit of a challenge. It wasn’t much of a challenge that day and I managed a pretty good time.

The last time I’d done an ocean swim; it took almost two hours to swim five miles. For a one-mile swim, I finished before I really had time to think about it. I spotted the pink hotel and turned toward shore. When I could stand, I checked my watch out of curiosity. Twenty-one minutes and change wasn’t bad but it wasn’t great, either. I knew I could do better if I wanted to.

I started walking back up the beach toward Kim and noticed the scenery. ZZ Top’s song, La Grange came to mind and I could hear the lyrics, “They gotta lot of nice girls,” definitely described things. Wow. Blondes, brunettes, and redheads on parade in colorful bikinis. I decided to jog back. I very definitely passed a lotta nice girls. Wow.

“Good swim?” Kim asked when I got back.

“Good enough. It’s been a while since I swam any distance in the ocean.”

“Mile?”

“Yeah. About twenty minutes. Apparently, that’s really fast for triathletes. I have a hunch if I do the Savannah race, I’d come out of the water near the front of the pack and watch people pass me for the rest of the race.”

“That doesn’t sound like much fun.”

“Yeah. It is what it is, but you’re right.” I picked up my book and started reading again.

When we decided we’d had enough Cherry Point, we packed up our stuff to go home. Rather than walk back to public parking, we followed people to the path toward a resort. On the other side of the boardwalk, we stood in line to use one of the two showers to wash the salt and sand away. Feeling much refreshed, we followed the crowd through a gate to the pool. We just stood there with our towels and cooler, watching guests float along a strange pool, relaxing. I asked someone. He looked at me as though I was a weirdo and said, “It’s a lazy river. It should have been in your brochure when you booked a room.” We hadn’t booked a room. The description was perfect though. It took people about a minute or two to drift along in a big, winding circuit.

We stashed our stuff, found a couple of pool floats and sat down in them to let the current carry us along in the lazy river. No one knew we weren’t guests. It was relaxing. We made three or four circuits, just letting the current carry us along in our inner tube-like floats, we simply relaxed and that was the point of it. There were seven or eight other people, simply enjoying the lazy river. The adults had drinks. The little kids were in a shallow pool nearby.

“Okay. I’m relaxed enough. Let’s go eat,” Kim said and I agreed. We would have fallen asleep floating if we’d stayed in for another lap.

We used the resort restrooms to change and freshen up, just like we belonged there. No one checked. No one cared. A couple of times, we passed through gates that had codes but we just followed other guests through. No one checked. No one cared. We felt like we’d found the keys to a whole new world. We used their indoor showers and changed into street clothes for the drive back, feeling much more civilized for the effort.

Driving south through Myrtle Beach, we passed restaurant after restaurant until we couldn’t stand it anymore. Vince had given me a list of good restaurants and we stopped at one that he noted had good home cooking. Vince Delinger was a friend and former Porter-Gaud quarterback who was attending Coastal Carolina, not far from where we were. Once seated, we watched a waitress pass us with a plate of ribs and suddenly, we didn’t need a menu. Ribs, collard greens, Cole slaw, and sweet tea was perfect. A little banana pudding for dessert and we were ready to get back on the road. Thanks, Vince.

We had a nearly two-hour drive home and wanted to talk so I put the top up. Kim ejected The Police from the cassette player and took a breath.

“Look at the license plates,” I said, before she started. “New York, Pennsylvania, Ohio, Michigan, and everywhere else. There’s one from Wyoming. This is crazy.”

“It’s tourist season, Baby. It’s like this every year.” We watched tourists pass us with kids in the back and luggage stacked high. We had started our summer vacation in what was, apparently, the tourist capital of South Carolina. “We’re going to miss some people when school starts again,” she said.

“No kidding. Bobby is going to CofC so at least he won’t be far away. He also won’t be swimming next year and that sucks,” I said.

“Mel has a year to go, though and he’s not leaving the area.”

“I know. Not the same. Jan and Marty are both gone.”

“Lisa, too. And Lani. That’s about half of our closest friends,” Kim said.

“It’s not really a change for Vince though. He’s already been gone a year. We’ll still do stuff together. Lori will be back so there’s a connection with her sister, Lani, at any rate. Gil graduated. With Gil and Bobby gone, our swim team really took a hit. Baseball too.”

“Who graduated from the baseball team?”

“Randy and Thumper. That’s huge. Randy was our best pitcher and Thumper was our catcher. I think Cherry is going to start, at least some of the time. Stretch is gone, too.”

“I don’t remember him. What position did he play?”

“First base. You know who else is gone? Marci,” I said and I know she heard the sadness in my voice.

“She grew on you, didn’t she?”

“Yeah, I guess she did. Mom makes the best Hoppin’ John.”

“Where did that come from?”

I hadn’t realized I’d thought that out loud. “She uses Andouille sausage.”

“I still don’t get it. What does that have to do with Marci leaving?”

“Most people use Kielbasa sausage, which isn’t as spicy. Marci is the Andouille sausage. She provides the spice.”

“Ah. I get it. You haven’t forgotten we still have Mel, right?”

“Yeah, but after Marci, Mel seems pretty normal.” How could that even be right? We talked about some other people that had graduated but we didn’t know them very well. Kim had made a couple of friends on the track team and Joy was gone. Joy had been the opposite of a team player and I knew Kim was happy to see her go.

“It seems like you got halfway through your economics text,” Kim said, after a period of comfortable silence.

“I think the entire book could have been two charts and that’s it. If you understand those two charts, the rest should be easy.”

“Really? That can’t be right. Are they complicated?” she asked.

“No. Not even close. The first one is the Law of Supply and Demand. Basically, the lower the price, the greater the demand, and the higher the price, the lower the demand. If you’re selling stuff, you pick a price that will make the most money. If you sold cassettes for a dollar, you could sell a lot of them but you wouldn’t make much profit. If you charged ten, you’d make a lot of profit on each one but you wouldn’t sell very many. So, you try to figure out how much you should sell them for to make the most money. It’s not that difficult.”

“There’s probably a lot of calculus in the solution to that, though.”

“Algebra, I think.”

“What’s the other chart?” she asked.

“It’s the Law of Diminishing Returns. The author has a funny illustration but it makes sense.”

“Okay, what is it.”

“He says when you buy something, it’s worth a lot, but it’s not worth twice as much to have two. If I buy The Rolling Stones album, Tattoo You for five dollars, I might want a second one for my car but it’s not worth another five dollars. I’ll just carry one from the house out to my car. But if I can buy the second one for half price, I might do it.”

“That’s why they have buy one, get one free?”

“Maybe, but it’s definitely why they have buy one, get the second one for half-price sales.”

“That makes sense. And that’s all there is to economics?” she asked.

“It seems like it to me. He gives a lot of scenarios and illustrations, but honestly, I think if you understand those two charts, you’ve got it.”

“Sweet. I hope you’re right. I’ve been dreading that class because it sounds like it should be difficult.”

“Do you have any difficult classes next year?” I asked.

“I hope not. I’m in Spanish II while you’re in Physics. I don’t think accounting is going to be difficult and I have AP English right before PE. I don’t think it will be hard, even though it’s an AP class.”

“You got a lot of your required classes out of the way early, didn’t you?”

“As much as I could. Plus, I’m not a math and science wizard like you, so I’m not taking physics and calculus.”

We talked about school and then friends again and then we were home. I pulled into my driveway and we started to walk to the house when I got a strange sensation.

“What’s the matter?” Kim asked.

“I don’t know. Mom’s car is here. Dane’s truck is here. Everything seems normal, but it doesn’t. Something is different.” We listened but we couldn’t hear anything unusual.

“Do you think something’s wrong?”

“No. I don’t think so. Just different. It feels weird and I don’t know why. Probably nothing. Let’s go in.”

I opened the front door and we stepped inside and waited. Clickety, clickety, clickety, came from the kitchen. It stopped, and then started again, coming toward us. What the heck? And then the source of the sound turned the corner and came straight for us.

“A puppy!” Kim exclaimed and got down on her knees as a little fluff ball, with tail wagging, ran straight at her. Mom followed the fluff around the corner. The fluff ball lowered his head, or her head, whichever, and sort of crawled toward Kim, tail going crazy.

“Meet Mac,” Mom said.

“Mac? Really? What kind of a dog is it? Is it ours? When did you get it? How come I didn’t know about this?”

“Slow down, Buddy. Veronica and Angela got one from the same litter. It was sort of a two for one deal,” she said, and Kim and I looked at each other and laughed. “We have him on a trial basis.” Veronica was Mom’s best friend. When Angela, Karen’s Mom, came out from California, trying to stay clean and sober, they’d moved in together and it had been a great arrangement, although we didn’t see Veronica as much. Veronica was pretty hot for a forty something woman, so maybe it was a good thing we didn’t see her as much.

“Right, Mrs. Pierce,” Kim said, almost laughing. “As though you would give a puppy back. What is he? He looks like a collie.”

“He is. He’s a rough collie, just like Lassie, on the TV show. That’s the name of Veronica and Angela’s puppy, by the way. He likes you, and is suspicious of Jack, for obvious reasons.”

I wasn’t sure if they were obvious or not. He had rolled over on his back and Kim was rubbing his belly, which seemed like his favorite thing in the world.

“What do you think?” Dane asked, as he came out of the kitchen.

“I foresee a life of picking up dog poops in the backyard,” I said, but sat next to Kim. He was pretty adorable.

“Nope,” Mom said. “Dane and I talked about this last week. You weren’t in the decision process and we’re not going to drop that on you. If we keep him, Dane and I will take care of him. We’ll feed him and keep the yard clean and all.”

“Uh-huh.” I’m sure I sounded convinced. Dang, he was a happy dog. Kim was playing tug of war with him, trying to take away a chew toy. She growled and he growled back, which was pretty funny. “I’ll call your house and let your folks know you’re here,” I said, but I’m not sure she heard me.

For the next hour or so, Kim and I sat on the floor and played with Mac, while he alternately chewed on my finger or tugged on his chew toy. Mom reminded us a couple of times that we had him on a trial basis. Sure.

Kim and I sat there in the entryway, roughhousing with the little guy. Kim teased him by circling her body with his chew toy, with Mac making little yipping sounds chasing it. Every now and then, she let him catch it and they’d play tug of war. Mom came back in to see how we were doing.

We looked up and Kim asked, “Do you think we could take him to my house to show my parents?”

“He’s worn out, sweetheart,” Mom said.

“Does he look worn out to you?” I asked and we all looked at him, now, suddenly fast asleep.

“Rhetorical question?”

“I think the trial period just ended,” Dane said, looking at us from the library door.

“How did he do that? He went from going a hundred miles an hour to completely out. Look at him. He’s in a coma,” I said and we had to laugh at him.

He was, in fact, worn out. Mom carried him to his bed in the mudroom. I took Kim home and dropped her off. Both of us grinned the whole way. Puppies were fun. Who knew?

Tuesday was one of those days where the weather hadn’t made up its mind. It seemed like the morning was going to be pretty good so I grabbed my bike and went for a ride. I decided to do a short, hard ride and see if I could keep my speed up above twenty-two for ten miles. Huffing and puffing for the last couple of miles, I got back to the house and checked my little bicycle computer.

Twenty point five, and that was for just ten miles. I thought I needed more practice pedaling in circles. I needed something, all right. As soon as I walked in the front door, I heard it. Clickety, clickety, clickety sounds coming from the kitchen told me Mac was on his way. I sat down in the entryway as he scrambled across the slippery wood floor to greet me. His tail wagged furiously while he tried to figure out what to lick first. Apparently, my toes had a particular dog appeal.

“I’m so glad you like him,” Mom said, stepping around the corner to watch.

“How can anyone not like him?”

“Don’t ask Dane. Mac destroyed a pair of his slippers and he’s not too happy about that. If there’s something important to you, I suggest you guard it.”

“Great. Chewing on stuff is just a puppy thing, right?”

“Hopefully. Oh, and he can’t stand to be in a room alone. I have a little bed for him in the kitchen because the mudroom is simply too far away from me while I’m cooking.”

“Social animal. Hah. Mel needs one of these.”

“Maybe. I have another little bed for him in my greenhouse and I’m sure we’ll have to figure out something for him in the gym, too.”

“Wow.” I thought about him and our house for a couple of minutes, while he tried to eat my toes. “What about the backyard? What about the pool? Ouch! Hey, buddy, no chewing on little toes.”

“So far, he hasn’t shown any interest in the pool, but we don’t let him go out without supervision. I need to call the breeder and ask about the pool. Maybe she knows.”

Mac followed me into the library. I collapsed in my favorite chair and picked up my latest copy of Bicycling Magazine to read about the Tour de France. Bernard Hinault, also known as The Badger, riding for the Renault team had won his fourth Tour. The more I read, the crazier it seemed. The Tour followed a path around the edges of France, covering over two thousand miles in a little over three weeks. The mountain stages were ridiculously steep and the speeds were insanely fast.

I had no foundation for understanding it. The ads in the magazine looked like they were designed to appeal to elite riders and elite rider wannabees. That wasn’t me. I had a bike, a bike computer, special shoes, and a bike pump. Plus, I had my Schwinn Continental, destined to be a collector’s item. Good enough. One of the riders was quoted as saying, “It’s not the machine. It’s the motor,” meaning his bike was good enough. He just needed to be faster if he hoped to beat The Badger in 1983. That made sense to me.

An hour later, Mom stuck her head in. “Where’s Mac?” she asked. I lifted Bicycling Magazine so she could see him asleep on my lap.

“He’s adorable, isn’t he?” she asked.

“Pretty much. Friendly and fluffy. I think he only has two speeds. He’s either full out or completely done. I’m pretty sure Ernest Hemingway didn’t have a dog.”

“That came out of nowhere. Why’s that?”

“He said, ‘Nobody ever lives their life all-the-way-up except bullfighters.’ Obviously, Mac lives his life all the way up, and I’m pretty sure he’s not a bullfighter.”

He was suddenly awake, his little head straining to hear something. I couldn’t hear anything, but he flew off my lap, and clickety clacked toward the front door.

“Hello, the house,” Kim hollered.

“Beware the Mac attack,” I hollered back. I heard her sit and him give his silly growl. I was now the second most interesting and important man in Kim’s life and I was jealous of our trial dog.

I walked out to the entryway and sat down next to her. “If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em,” I said but I doubt she heard me. “Grrrr.” She heard that.

“Oh, poor baby. Have I been ignoring you?” I panted like a dog and she rubbed my belly. Huh.

“I’m going to walk down the street and do a little work on Mrs. Diedrich’s house before Miss Sandy gets home.” Mrs. Diedrich had shared with me stories about her husband, Chester. I learned a lot about love and devotion. When she died it broke my heart. Her granddaughter inherited the house and I loved the idea of helping fix it up.

“Okay.”

“I thought I would put a new roof on and paint the garage purple.”

“Okay.”

“Maybe I’ll build a new garage and paint the roof purple.”

“Okay.”

Mac was chewing on her finger and I couldn’t compete with that. I grabbed my toolbox and walked down the street. I tried to remember what was next on her list but it wouldn’t come to me. Grrrr. I was about to turn into her driveway when I heard someone calling for me from across the street.

“Jack. Jack, that’s you, isn’t it?”

I turned to see Mrs. Franklin standing at the end of her driveway. “Yes, ma’am. How are you?”

“A lot better than my kitchen faucet. Sandy said you were helping her with handyman jobs.”

“Yes, ma’am. Just a few.” Mrs. Franklin was the sweetest old lady on the street, at least she was now that Mrs. Diedrich was gone. How could I say no?

“I hate to be an imposition, but do you think you could take a look at it and see if I should call a plumber or just set the house on fire and collect the insurance?”

“I love a good house fire as much as the next guy, but let me take a look,” I said. She smiled when I said I loved a good house fire.

I followed her inside and to the kitchen, where the offending faucet was. She turned it on to show me the leak and it was pretty bad. She turned it off and back on again.

“Can this be fixed or should I get the matches?”

“I think it just needs a new washer. Maybe you could keep the matches handy, though.”

I didn’t have washers or the right type of wrench so I jogged home to get them. I’d only done this type of thing once before and I really didn’t want her to set the house on fire. I reached under the sink and turned off the water. I removed the faucet base and found not one, but two washers in serious need of replacement. I popped out the old and slid the new home. I wasn’t sure if it needed plumber’s tape on the threads before I reattached it but I figured it wouldn’t hurt.

With everything back together, I turned the water back on and let her try the faucet. “Oh, perfect. Look at you, so handy and everything. How much do you charge for house calls?”

“Well, Mrs. Franklin, I usually charge a million dollars an hour but it only took me thirty minutes so it’s free.”

“That’s wonderful. I’m almost certain we don’t have a million dollars in checking, so it’s a good thing you were fast.”

We’d been doing this back-and-forth thing, with both of us keeping straight faces the whole time. But when I realized she was standing there with a box of matches in her hand, I lost it. She smiled, probably because she managed to crack me up before my replies cracked her up. She was fun. She thanked me profusely and I went across the street to tackle Miss Sandy’s house problems.

I hadn’t planned on working on plumbing issues, but since I had supplies with me, I fixed a drip and started working on a toilet that wouldn’t shut off. I had it apart before I realized I’d need a part from the store to fix it. It was in the guest room so I was sure she wouldn’t need it. I left the water off and put a note on the toilet, telling her it needed a part that I would get.

I jotted down several other parts I needed in order to tackle some odds and ends and packed up my stuff. I hadn’t done much. On the other hand, I’d saved the Franklin house from going up in flames, so I felt pretty good about that.

When I got back to the house, Kim was asleep on my favorite chair and Mac was in her lap, wiggling his tail. Or maybe he was wiggling his butt and his tail was just along for the ride. She was asleep, and he was ready to go.

“Get her, Mac. Get up there and lick her face.” He seemed unsure, but then started inching up.

“I cannot believe you are conspiring with the puppy,” Kim said, with her eyes still closed.

“Lick her nose, Mac. Lick her nose.” Mac was torn between giving a good kiss and a healthy fear of her Scottish temper. “You can do it, Mac.”

He didn’t make it to her nose but he got her chin and when she laughed, he became more enthusiastic about it. She kept laughing and he kept going, despite her calling him a little brat.

“Jack,” Mom hollered from the kitchen. “Sally is on the phone and asked if Kim was there. I think you both might want to come.”

We went to the kitchen, with Mac clickety clacking behind. I looked to Mom to see if she had a clue but she didn’t.

“Hey, Sally.”

“Hey, yourself. Is Kim there? Can you put me on speaker?”

“Yes, to both.” I made the switch. “You’re on speaker with me, Kim, and my mom. What’s up? Is everything okay?”

“More than okay. I know Nashville is a long way from Charleston but I wanted to give you first chance, because of Kim.”

“Okay, you have our attention, Sally. What in the world is going on?” I asked. Kim and Mom sat at the counter to listen better.

“You remember the Ryman Auditorium?”

“Sure. It’s where the Grand Ole Opry used to be.”

“Right. Well, they still do concerts and events there, even though the Grand Ole Opry House is open.”

“You’re killing me, Sally. What’s going on?” Kim asked loudly.

“Well, hang on, I’m getting to it. You know, or maybe you don’t that there are a lot of people working at Merrill’s Ranch who have contacts and stuff.”

“Right. You saw Linda Ronstadt because of that.”

“Yeppers. Well, I have four tickets to a concert next month. Warren and I only need two and I thought you might be interested in making the trip.”

“To see who, Sally? Who is coming to the Ryman?” I asked, seeing that Kim was torn between being anxious, excited, and annoyed at how long this was taking.

“Ah. I have four tickets in the third row, just a little left of center, which is good, because she spends a lot of time on that side of the stage.”

“For WHO?” we all said.

“Didn’t I already say that? Emmylou Harris. I thought I already said. Kim likes her, right?”

“Don’t play with us, Sally. This isn’t a practical joke or something because if it is...”

“No. I’m looking right at them. I have four tickets to Emmylou Harris and her Hot Band in section 3, row D, seats five, six, seven, and eight. They’ve got a funky picture of her Last Date album on them. Do you want them?”

Kim was going nuts. I looked at Mom. “Kim, check with your parents. If I say, ‘no’ I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“They’ll say ‘yes’. I know they will.”

“Check first, Honey.”

“There’s no hurry. This is a hot ticket and I could sell them at the last minute. Third row? I could sell these in a heartbeat.”

“Please, don’t, Sally. Even if Kim can’t go, I’ll go and then tell her all about it,” I said.

“You wouldn’t dare. Ooooh. That’s just mean to even say.”

“Okay. I guess I wouldn’t tell her all about it, then.”

“Give me,” Kim said, taking the phone off speaker so she could talk with Sally. Seeing that I was no longer welcome, Mac and I went to the library to sulk.

I stretched out on the floor with my economics book, determined to finish it as quickly as possible. Mac attempted to lay down on the open book and settled for snuggling against the crook of my arm. Were all puppies this needy? My econ book put me to sleep.

“Hey, you,” Kim said, wiggling my shoulder.

“Mmmm.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too. Good talk with Sally?”

“Yes. She’s been to a lot of concerts. It was very sweet of her to think of me. I’m pretty excited, you know.”

“Yup. I would guess she had to trade a favor or two to get tickets in the third row,” I said.

“Row D. Not a big deal but that would be the fourth row.”

“Orchestra. There isn’t a row A. I saw the seating chart when I was there. It’s weird. Going to ask your parents?”

“I already did and they said the same thing your mom did. No one ever comes to Charleston. Atlanta or Charlotte are the closest concert venues for most bands. Emmylou Harris does a lot of duets and sometimes you don’t even know who to expect until they walk out on stage.”

“That’s kind of cool. Is there anyone you would like to see join her?”

“I don’t know. She’s done duets from everyone from Roy Orbison to Gram Parsons and I don’t care if anyone else joins her. Doesn’t matter.”

“But it would be cool if, who was it, Gram Parsons, joined her, wouldn’t it?”

“Well, since he died of a drug overdose about ten years ago, I’d say it would be very cool, or maybe very creepy.”

“Ah. Let’s hope that doesn’t happen. You’re excited though, right?”

“Definitely. How about you?”

“I am. I get to meet Warren, too, and that’s a good thing.”

“Ah. Looking out for her?”

“Maybe just a little.” I knew we could have talked about Emmylou Harris and what to expect for the rest of the night but I changed the subject. Kim hadn’t gotten mad at Mac so I felt it was safe. “The weather tomorrow is supposed to suck. Wednesday, too, I think. I plan to work on Mrs. Diedrich’s home unless you have something in mind.” She shook her head. “I need to go to Ace Hardware to pick up a couple of things. Want to go with me?”

“As exciting as that sounds, I think I’ll give it a miss. I’m suddenly pretty tired.”

I took Kim home, touched base with her parents, and talked a bit about Nashville and Emmylou Harris. Kim told them about Mac and talking with Sally, and that wrapped up our day. I thought about going to Ace Hardware but it was getting late and I knew they were open early anyway.

The next morning, the weather wasn’t great but it wasn’t storming, either. I picked up supplies at Ace Hardware and got busy at Mrs. Diedrich’s house. By noon, I had repaired the toilet in the guest bath, reattached the toilet paper dispenser so it wouldn’t wiggle free, and installed some weather stripping on a couple of exterior doors.

I remembered a conversation I’d had with Wash as we were working on a roof together for Habitat for Humanity. I stuck my head up in the attic and looked around. Insulation was spotty at best and the vent fan wasn’t turning when it probably should have been. The attic was hot, and I knew that translated into a higher utility bill. I would have to do a bit of research, but I thought fixing the fan and improving the insulation would be a big help. I just didn’t have any idea how hard it would be.