Chapter 76: The Decision That’s Right For You

December 12, 2000, Rutherford, Ohio

“Hi, Steve!” Paul Reynolds exclaimed when I walked into the office of the Star Light Motel.

“Hi, Paul! How’s business?”

“Good. Our vacancy rates are really good. We’re actually thinking of adding another six rooms.”

“Don’t go to the bank,” I said. “Call me.”

“From what Lou said, and how that’s worked for him, you can count on it! Need anything special?”

I shook my head, “No. Just a few days R&R.”

“Let me give you my mobile phone number in case you need something which the night manager is unable to provide.”

“Thanks.”

“Same room as last time. I rearranged the bookings after the guest left on Sunday.”

“I appreciate it.”

I signed the registration card, he took an imprint of my Amex card, and then handed me the key. I thanked him again, then left the office, got into my BMW, and moved it in front of my room. I got out of the car, grabbed my bag, put on my fedora, and let myself into the room. I emptied my bladder, unpacked my bag, then made a trip to the State Liquor Store to get a bottle of bourbon. I took that back to my room, checked my watch, and decided it was OK to head to Martin and Vickie’s house.

I followed the directions Vickie had given me and found the modest ranch house about two miles outside of Rutherford proper and pulled into the driveway. The house was well maintained and the yard was postcard-perfect. I’d seen lawns like that before, and I instantly knew that Martin was one of those guys who took great pride in having the ‘perfect’ lawn. That was about as far from my view on the matter as possible. We kept our lawn and bushes healthy, and that was about the limit. I walked up the flower-lined cobblestone path to the front porch and rang the bell.

“Hi, Steve!” Martin said when he opened the door.

He extended his hand and we shook.

“Hi, Martin. Nice lawn!”

He smiled, “Thanks! Come inside!”

He held the door open, I walked in, took off my fedora and my jacket. He pointed to a coat rack where I hung them, and then I followed him into the house. Vickie came out of the kitchen followed by a gorgeous, blonde-haired, blue-eyed, vivacious teenage girl about 5’8” tall wearing tight blue jeans and a soft, fuzzy yellow sweater.

“Hi!” Vickie said, offering a hug which I accepted.

She kissed me on the cheek, then introduced the girl.

“Steve, this is my cousin Cecily. She’s staying with us this week. Cecily, my friend Steve, from Chicago.”

“Hi!” Cecily gushed. “Nice to meet you!”

I immediately got a vibe that said this teenager was going to have had an STI test and ask if I still gave sex lessons. I was so certain, I’d have bet money on it. I was also certain I wanted her. She was the epitome of the beautiful small-town girl-next-door that I had always been attracted to.

“Nice to meet you, too,” I replied.

“Dinner is about twenty minutes,” Vickie said. “Martin will get you a drink. Bourbon, right?”

“Yes.”

“Follow me,” Martin said.

The girls went back to the kitchen and I followed Martin into a cozy living room with a couch, loveseat, recliner and a large TV.

“How are things at the Fire Department?” I asked.

“We had a totally involved barn yesterday. Nothing to do but let it burn and keep it from spreading. That happens quite a bit with older barns. This one was probably electrical. At least they got the animals out safely.”

“That’s good. My friends in the Chicago Fire Department almost never fight fires, and they’re rarely fully involved, though we had a bad one not long ago.”

“I heard about that - word gets around pretty quickly in the community. I spoke with your paramedic friend, Tom, at the wedding.”

“He’s a good guy. And the guys from their company are taking good care of the widow and kids.”

“That always happens, even in smaller departments. We’ve been lucky, knock wood.”

He rapped his knuckles on the liquor cabinet, then opened it and took out a bottle of Maker’s Mark and two glasses. He poured about an ounce into each one and handed it to me.

“Just the one, right?” he said.

I nodded, “I always try to not drink when I’m driving, but one now, before dinner, and a few hours and I’ll be OK.”

“What do you think of the Supreme Court decision today?”

“I think every single report I’ve heard has it exactly backwards. Once the Florida legislature approved a slate of delegates, all court actions became moot, not the other way around. The Constitution is clear - the Legislature decides how to appoint Electors and nothing in the Constitution limits or specifies how they do it. So that’s the end of it, unless the Congress rejects the slate of Electors, in which case nobody has a majority, and the House elects a President, which they did in 1801 and 1825.”

“But doesn’t the Supreme Court have the final say?”

“No. They can’t force Congress to vote one way or the other, and the Constitution clearly says the decisions about the validity of the Electors belongs to Congress. In the current situation, with the makeup of the new Senate and House, the slate of Electors appointed by the Florida Legislature trumps anything else. It’s also the case that the Florida legislature appointed the exact same slate that was certified by the Florida Secretary of State. So no matter what any court says, Bush wins.”

“So if the courts don’t have any say, why all the histrionics in court?”

“Because the courts don’t like the fact that they have no say! Heck, the Florida judges tried to rewrite the state law for elections after the fact, and tried to deprive the State Legislature of its right to determine how to select Electors. People can kick and scream and handwave, but in the end, the Constitution is clear, and anyone who says it isn’t is a partisan with an agenda.”

“And your agenda?” Martin asked.

“Failed miserably because Bush is going to be President. I don’t like Gore, either, by the way.”

“Libertarian?”

“Yes.”

“Figured. Didn’t have you pegged for a socialist.”

I chuckled, “Only at work. But that’s voluntary, not forced, so it’s different.”

“Interesting. We have fifteen minutes or so; care to explain?”

I nodded and then explained my theory of managing a company. We’d just finished our discussion when Vickie called us to dinner.

“I checked with Doctor Jessica on the right meal for you,” Vickie said. “Sorry you’ll have to pass on the homemade rolls, but everything else should be OK.”

“I appreciate that,” I replied.

There was roasted chicken, broccoli, cauliflower, salad, and the aforementioned homemade rolls which looked tasty, but of which I couldn’t partake. We all filled our plates from the serving platters and bowls and then began eating.

“How are things at Kroger’s?” I asked.

“Good,” Vickie replied. “but I won’t be working there after April because of the baby.”

“Stay-at-home mom?”

“At least for a time. We’ll see what happens, especially on the timing of our second.”

“Is that the number?”

“Probably, but we’ll see.”

“How did your dad react to the news?” I asked.

“I’m still the reprobate daughter,” she said with a soft laugh, “but Mom was ecstatic. I suppose the best way to describe my dad is to say he’s disappointed in me.”

“I’m hoping that you aren’t letting that bother you.”

“I’m not. Martin’s parents are the salt of the earth, and my mom is happy because I’m going to church a few times a month, even if it’s Martin’s Roman Catholic church. The only worse thing I could have done in my dad’s eyes is go to Doctor Mike’s church!”

“You’re talking about Liz’s brother?”

“Yes. About fifteen years ago, Doctor Mike had a debate with my dad and kicked his butt from McKinley to Cleveland and back again.”

“What church does Mike belong to?” I asked.

“He’s Russian Orthodox.”

I smiled, “I know enough about the Orthodox Church to know that it should have been fairly easy for a well-taught Orthodox Christian to beat your dad in a debate.”

“Have you met Mike?” Martin asked.

“No, but Liz and Paul have told me a bit about him. This food is excellent, by the way!”

“Thanks! Cecily helped.”

“Thank you,” I said, looking at Cecily and smiling. “What grade are you in?”

“Sophomore.”

“Fifteen or sixteen?”

“Sixteen as of three weeks ago!” Cecily exclaimed.

Which made her ‘legal’ in Ohio, something I needed to be even more cognizant of given the trouble I’d encountered with Vickie’s dad on my previous trip. Thinking of that made me wonder if I’d run into Deputy Nelson. I was sure I would, given the crazy turns my life seemed to take with regard to women.

“Do you have your ticket to freedom?” I asked.

“Ticket to freedom?”

“He means a driver’s license,” Vickie said with a soft laugh.

“Yes! It is exactly what you said, I just didn’t realize it.”

“What’s your favorite subject?”

“Computers! Vickie said you run a computer company in Chicago.”

“I own the company, yes, but my sister runs it. I prefer to code.”

“I love programming.”

“What language?”

“Visual Basic. My dad promised to get me a computer at Christmas. Do you have any suggestions?”

“Does your school only have PCs?”

“Yes. They don’t have any Apple computers.”

“Then I suppose it depends on whether or not you need to do computer homework. If you do, then a Dell is probably your best bet. On the other hand, a Mac running the new OS X would give you a chance to learn something new, including learning Unix. That would give you a big leg up when you go to college. I’m assuming you’ve decided on computers.”

“For sure! When did you start your company?”

“Right after graduation. But I had one when I was in High School, too.”

“Really? That’s way cool! What was it?”

“Several things. We ran computer dating programs for schools, wrote software for veterinary clinics, membership software, and software to turn computers into cash registers.”

“What happened to that company?”

“My two friends and I sold it. We used the money to pay for a good chunk of college. Basically, we were at the right time and right place both times. Things are very different now. A lot has changed in the last fifteen to twenty years.”

“You’re from Ohio, right?”

“I’m originally from California, but we moved to Ohio in the early 70s. I went to Milford High School and then moved to Chicago for college. I’ve been there ever since.”

“And you hired Winter after you met her four years ago?”

“Yes.”

“I wanted to come to the wedding, but my parents wouldn’t let me go to Chicago with Vickie and Martin.”

“Have you thought about where you want to go for your undergraduate work?” I asked.

“Not really. I’ll start thinking more seriously about it when I take the PSAT next year.”

“Besides computers, do you have any extracurricular activities?”

“I play alto sax in the jazz band and sing in the chorus for musicals. Vickie says you’re some kind of karate expert.”

“I’m an instructor at a dojo in Chicago.”

“That’s totally cool! Can I ask what kind of car you drive?”

“A BMW 320i sedan.”

“Manual or automatic?” Martin asked.

“Manual,” I replied. “I haven’t ever owned an automatic.”

“What was your first car?” he asked.

“A black, 1980 V-8 Trans Am I bought new when I was a Senior in High School.”

“Naturally aspirated or blown?”

“I couldn’t justify the added cost of the turbo, and given the 55MPH speed limits then, it seemed like overkill. The V8 was plenty powerful off the line. And girls really liked the T-tops.”

Martin laughed, “I bet! That car would have been a chick magnet in 1980. When did you get the BMW?”

“In the mid-80s. My company leases it for me. That began not long after we started the company, for tax purposes.”

“What happened to the Trans Am?”

“Totaled in a wreck in Georgia in July of ‘84 when I was driving back to my girlfriend’s house from the NASCAR race at Talladega. There was a wreck in front of me, I stopped in time, but the guy behind me didn’t. Totaled the Trans Am, but everyone in the car survived, though one of my friends was hurt pretty badly. I just had whiplash and a mild concussion.”

“Damn. What did you replace it with?”

“A Dodge Daytona Turbo Z. That was a really hot car at the time. After that it’s been all BMWs.”

“You a big NASCAR far?”

“I was, and still am, to a point, but Bill Elliott hasn’t been doing so well, and I really miss Davey Allison and Alan Kulwicki. A good friend of mine used to work for Kulwicki. He works for Rick Hendrick now.”

“Ever meet any of the drivers?”

“Plenty. I’ve had dinner at Bill Elliott’s house and I’d consider him a friend, though not a close one. He, Davey, and Alan came to my friend Stephie’s funeral when she died of cancer about thirteen years ago. She was married to my friend who works for Rick Hendrick, and had lived close to the Elliotts and was close friends with them. That’s how I met Bill and his first wife, Martha.”

“Do you go to a lot of races?”

“I used to, but between work, Stephie’s death, and all my other obligations, I haven’t been going very often. I do plan to go to the inaugural Chicago race next year. A friend of mine bought a box at the new track near Joliet.”

“Any other sports?”

“Used to be a Reds fan but I gave up on baseball after they canceled the World Series. I’m a big ice hockey fan, but the Penguins, not the Hawks.”

“How did that come about?”

“I followed the Cincinnati teams, but when the merger happened, Cincinnati didn’t get an NHL team, so I picked the Penguins to follow. It was a nightmare until around 1990, but it’s been pretty damned good since then. You?”

“Football, mostly. I follow the Bengals, but other than those two Super Bowl seasons they haven’t done much. I’m a Bears fan, otherwise.”

“Another team that had one amazing season and then not much. How long have you been with the Fire Department?”

“About ten years. I went to the regional fire academy right out of High School when I graduated in 1990. I signed on with the Rutherford Fire Department right after I finished the academy. That was right about the time the department expanded and added paramedics, and just before the money came through for the hospital expansion.”

Which made him about twenty-eight to Vickie’s twenty-two, and twenty-five when they started dating. That was an age gap to which the ‘Reverend’ Sadler couldn’t legitimately object, though Vickie moving in with him before they married had certainly poured gas on an already burning fire.

“Was your department volunteer?” I asked.

“Up to 1985 when they switched over to professional. There are a bunch of volunteer companies in the county, and we provide mutual aid.”

“Pretty much similar to Milford,” I replied. “They had a volunteer department into the 80s.”

“If you’re free tomorrow, come down to the station and I’ll give you the nickel tour.”

“I’m actually going to Cincinnati tomorrow to see my dad and some friends. Then Thursday I have an all-day meeting, and I’m heading home on Friday morning.”

“You have business in Cincinnati?”

“We do, but on this trip I’m just seeing my dad and the granddaughter of my other first investor and a couple of attorneys I’m close to.”

I realized at that moment that I’d completely forgotten about Donna W. I made a mental note to call her in the morning while I was driving to Cincinnati and see if she was free for coffee.

“How often do you get down this way?” he asked.

“Roughly once a year, but usually it’s to Cincinnati to see my dad or my friends there. They come up to Chicago pretty often, so my trips here are limited. I was in Rutherford four years ago and spent two weeks relaxing. This trip is shorter, but I decided to stay here rather than with some of my friends in Cincinnati because this lets me get away and have some ‘me’ time.”

We finished eating, and Vickie and Martin quickly cleared the table and returned with coffee, ice cream, and apple pie.

“Sorry about the dessert,” Vickie said.

“Don’t be. There’s no need to apologize and no need for you to skip your dessert on my account! I’ll just have some coffee.”

“Why the diet?” Cecily asked.

“That’s not polite,” Martin said, gently reprimanding her.

“It’s OK,” I said with a soft smile. “The simple answer is that I have a very weird metabolism and body chemistry. It’s not life-threatening or seriously debilitating, but I have to carefully watch what I eat, get plenty of exercise, and sufficient sleep.”

“You sure look healthy!”

I nodded, “Because I am, generally speaking. I run every weekday morning and practice karate three to four times a week. The only limitation I have is on what I eat, and in a way, it’s similar to someone with diabetes, but I don’t have diabetes. In fact, they don’t know for sure what I have, which is why I had a checkup at The Mayo Clinic last week.”

“And it doesn’t bug you that we’re eating dessert?”

I shook my head, “No. Given that I’ve basically avoided any drugs by carefully controlling my diet, I’m not going to complain or be upset. I used to get upset, but when I realized the advantage of not taking drugs, I quit complaining.”

Of course, I’d broken the guidelines several times and paid the price for doing so, but I didn’t think I needed to discuss that. The conversation stopped while they ate their pie and ice cream, and I sipped my coffee. When they finished, Vickie refilled the coffee cups.

“You can go to the living room while Martin and I clean up,” Vickie said. “It won’t take more than ten minutes.”

“Thanks,” I said. “I’ll help, if you want?”

“You’re the guest! Go relax! I’m sure Cecily will keep you company.”

“I will!” she exclaimed with a twinkle in her eye.

“Thanks,” I replied.

I got up, picked up my coffee cup, and moved to the living room, followed by Cecily. When I sat down on the loveseat, she sat down next to me, on the other cushion.

“Vickie told me lots about you,” Cecily said quietly.

“Such as?”

“That you were really into computers, that you were a karate instructor, that you were handsome, and that you were a super-nice guy who was fun to be around. She said you treated both Winter and her like princesses. She also said you had a run-in with her dad.”