Chapter 24

We relaxed in the clearing for another hour before we gathered our things and headed back. We were all in a good mood, so we chatted and joked until we reached the main camp.

About twenty people were enjoying the late afternoon sun by the lake, so we cleaned up our banter as we trooped past. A couple of women stared at us, but I didn’t think anything of it at the time. Then we received a few more stares on the road past the clubhouse.

The girls were talking about the metalwork outfits, so they didn’t notice. Trip did, though, and nudged me with a questioning look. I shrugged and then idly glanced at the girls. The answer hit me at once, and I wanted to kick myself for not noticing sooner.

Leah’s skin was dark brown except for the pale triangle that her bikini bottoms normally covered. And if I could see her ass, everyone in front could see her pussy. No wonder people had been staring! They were used to seeing young girls without pubic hair, but not grown women, even young ones.

We had probably caused a minor scandal, but I told myself that it was the Eighties. Besides, shaved pubic hair wasn’t any different than shaved legs or armpits, and even the most prudish women did that. Still, I didn’t want to cause trouble for Susan, so I casually unslung my backpack and rummaged until I found Leah’s bikini bottoms. They were wrapped in one of the towels, which explained why we’d missed them in the first place.

Leah turned to say something and caught sight of them. Her eyes widened with panic as she looked down and realized she was completely nude. She grabbed the bottoms and immediately stepped into them.

Wren tried to laugh it off. “Why bother?”

“It’s kind of a big deal,” I explained. “Not to us, but this is a family camp. People have been staring since we passed the lake.”

“So?” Wren pressed. “Isn’t it like a hard-on? I mean, people just ignore those, right?”

“Yes and no. Nudists are kinda touchy about sex. Some of them, at least.”

“That’s their problem.”

“Not really. I mean ... you don’t get it.”

“Then you’re not explaining it right.”

I rolled my eyes in annoyance.

“Let’s just go to the cabin,” Trip said reasonably. “Lady Godiva has already ridden through town.”

Wren and I gave him a surprised look.

“What? What’s done is done,” he said. “Besides, someone has to be the practical one. You two would stand here and argue all day.”

“No we wouldn’t,” I said.

“Not all day,” Wren muttered.

We both knew that he was probably right, but neither of us wanted to give him the satisfaction.

He understood anyway. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

Wren and I shared a grin.

“You think this is funny?” Leah protested. “I just ruined my reputation!”

“Whoa, we don’t think it’s funny.”

“And you didn’t ruin your reputation,” Wren added.

“You don’t know people around here,” Leah said. “They’re super judgmental.”

“Okay,” I said, “maybe Wren’s right after all: that’s their problem. It’s your body. You can do what you want with it.” I shrugged. “I’ll talk to Susan in the morning, though. I’m sure she’ll have heard about it by then. She’ll know what to do.”

We didn’t have to wait that long. About an hour later Susan stopped by the cabin and invited us to come down to the clubhouse for movie night. She didn’t say anything about Leah’s bottomless jaunt, but she was obviously up to something. I caught her eye and silently asked, but she gave me a little “not now” headshake.

“Do you think I’m in trouble?” Leah wondered after she’d gone.

“I doubt it,” I said. “Susan doesn’t beat around the bush.”

“Ha ha,” Leah said sarcastically.

I laughed. “I didn’t mean it that way, but yeah.”

After dinner we collectively gathered our courage and headed down the hill to the clubhouse. Leah wore her bikini bottoms, of course, but we were all thinking the same thing: what would people say when they saw her?

Visitors at the Pines fell into three general groups: the swingers like my family and friends; the people who knew about the swinging and simply ignored it; and the “normal” people who didn’t have a clue and were just there for the rustic setting. Most of the people who had seen Leah were in the last group, hence their surprise (and in some cases, shock and indignation).

We arrived at the clubhouse and discovered complete normality. No lynch mob. No witch-hunt. No uproar. I took a moment to register that no one was staring at us. Instead, people were talking in groups, playing games, or preparing movie snacks in the kitchen.

I scanned the room and spotted Susan. Then I did a double take to make sure it was her. Leah saw her at the same time, and her eyes widened too.

“What?” Wren said. She followed my gaze and then laughed.

“Is she...?” Trip asked.

“Uh-huh,” Leah and I said at the same time. We shared a nervous look.

“But I thought she ... you know,” Trip said, with a vague gesture at his loins. “Like Leah.”

“She does,” I said.

“Then where are her bikini bottoms?”

Susan’s pale bottom stood out in a crowd of tanned cheeks.

All of a sudden Wren laughed. “Public Relations 101.”

The rest of us stared at her.

“Educate the marketplace and create a positive image. Brilliant.”

“I don’t get it,” Trip said.

“Neither do I,” I admitted.

“It’s simple,” Wren said. “Nudists are touchy about sex. Some of them, right?”

“Yeah.”

“So Leah probably caused a stir today, at least with the prudes. I’m sure they complained to Susan.”

“Probably,” I agreed. “Busybody stuff.”

“Exactly,” Wren continued. “Susan is showing the entire camp that not only will Leah not suffer any consequences, but that she approves. Susan, I mean. Who’s going to complain about her, much less to her face? So she’s educating people and creating a positive image by saying, ‘Look at me. See how I approve?’ She’s the main trendsetter here, and the only one who really matters.”

“But why?” I said.

Wren rolled her eyes. “Because she owns the place. What she says goes.”

“I understand that,” I said impatiently. “Why come to movie night without her bottoms? Why show everyone?”

“PR 101 again,” Wren said. “Show, don’t tell. It’s like ... the Pepsi Challenge. Pepsi can say it tastes better than Coke—”

“It doesn’t,” I said at once. Leah agreed.

“I know that,” Wren said, annoyed. We were from Atlanta, after all, home of Coca-Cola. “But a lot of people are on the fence. Pepsi can say whatever they like, but if they show people that Pepsi tastes better...”

“Seeing is believing,” Trip said.

“Mmm hmm. That’s why they have all those Pepsi Challenge commercials. Show, don’t tell.”

Susan must have sensed us talking about her, because she looked toward us. She smiled and beckoned us over. She was talking to a couple in their early thirties, “normal” camp visitors. The man was doing his best to keep his eyes above waist level, but he clearly wanted to get a better look at Susan’s pubic area. The woman was acutely aware of her husband’s interest, but I got the distinct impression that she wanted to look as well.

Susan made introductions and was her usual charming self, the consummate hostess. She was especially warm and friendly to Leah, which did a lot to quell Leah’s jitters. Then she excused herself and moved on to another group, also from the mundane end of the visitor spectrum.

We made small talk with the couple for a few minutes. They obviously knew about Leah’s bottomless trip through camp, but they didn’t say anything. After a few minutes they moved on to talk to another couple their age.

We headed toward the couches, where my mom and Leah’s parents were.

“Well,” Elizabeth said, “you caused quite a kerfuffle.”

Leah actually blushed.

“It was my fault,” I said. “I rolled her bikini in a towel and we didn’t notice until too late.”

“We figured it was something like that,” Chris said.

“You need to be more careful next time,” Elizabeth told Leah.

“It really wasn’t her fault,” I repeated. “It was mine.”

“It wasn’t anyone’s fault,” Chris said.

My mom agreed with a nod.

“Besides,” Chris continued, to his wife more than us, “Susan will smooth things over. She’s been looking for a reason to make some changes anyway. You said so yourself.”

“Yes,” Elizabeth agreed tersely, “but it should have been her choice about when and how.”

“Every crisis is an opportunity,” Chris said. “Although this is hardly what I’d call a crisis.”

“What about the family that left?” Elizabeth shot back. “Would they call it a crisis?”

“They were pious prigs and you know it.”

“Hold on,” I said. “Someone left? As in, ‘left camp’?”

Leah seemed to wilt.

“Sort of,” Chris admitted.

My mom laughed. “More like, Susan gave them a refund and asked them to leave. Immediately. Good riddance, too.”

“Don’t worry about it, pumpkin,” Chris said to Leah. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“A few ruffled feathers is all,” my mom agreed.

Elizabeth pursed her lips and swallowed whatever she wanted to say. I suspected that she was arguing with Chris more than Leah. She seemed to realize that, and I watched her visibly adjust her attitude. She put a hand on his arm and looked at Leah.

“They’re right, sweetheart,” Elizabeth said to her daughter. “You’re almost an adult—”

I hid a smile at her deliberate use of “almost.”

“—and you didn’t mean to cause trouble.”

“On the contrary,” my mom said. “She’s given Susan the excuse she’s been looking for.” She turned to us. “She’s been, ahem, ‘chafing’ at having to wear bottoms in her own camp.”

I shot her a grin for the pun.

“I just wish it hadn’t been my daughter who gave her the excuse,” Elizabeth said.

Chris shrugged. “Had to be someone. Might as well be someone tough enough to endure the criticism and smart enough to counter it.” He nodded to Leah and then turned to his wife. “You didn’t raise a shrinking violet, dear.”

“No, I most certainly did not,” Elizabeth said, with more than a touch of rueful pride. She and Leah had had their own share of disagreements. She mustered a smile for her daughter. “Well done.”

Leah didn’t know how to react to the sudden approval.

I put an arm around her and gave her a reassuring squeeze.

“Well done, indeed,” my mom echoed. She patted the couch next to her. “Now, come tell me about Bob’s jewelry. He’s very talented, isn’t he?”

Leah still looked a bit stunned, but she sat down and let my mom draw her into conversation.

Susan continued to circulate and “educate,” until Bill the projectionist was ready to start the movie. He normally introduced the feature, but Susan walked to the front of the room and smiled as everyone took their seats. She could’ve been wearing an African tribal mask and no one would have noticed. Instead, every eye in the room was on her smooth pubic area.

She thanked us for coming and said a few more words, but her real purpose was to show that she was shaved. She didn’t say anything overt, but her message was clear: “I set the standard for acceptable.” I had to admire her confidence and eloquence. When she finished, she smiled at Leah as if to thank her for the opportunity.

Leah was beside herself.

I hugged her again. “Told you she’d know what to do.”

The next morning Leah and I returned the wire outfits and nipple jewelry to Mr. Nelson. He asked about the photo session and managed it in a way that didn’t make him sound like a pervert. He told me about a discreet photo developer in town, and I promised I’d have prints made before we left camp on Sunday.

We were on our way to the lake to meet Trip and Wren when Susan found us near the clubhouse. She wasn’t wearing her bikini bottoms. I’d never been shy about looking, so I did. She caught me and gave a half-smile. Then she gestured to Leah.

“Not quite ready to ... hmm, let the cat out of the bag, shall we say?”

“I didn’t know if I should,” Leah said. “I don’t want to cause any more trouble.”

“Nonsense. Do whatever you like. You’re a grown woman as far as I’m concerned, so it’s up to you. Most everyone knows by now, I’m sure, although I don’t think they’ll say anything. I nipped that in the bud last night.”

“Thank you.”

“My camp, my rules. And I don’t tolerate busybodies or self-righteous types. I’m too old and too outspoken for that nonsense.”

I laughed. “You’re not old.”

“I’m glad you think so, but you know I’m right.”

“Well, maybe about being outspoken. But you’re not old.”

She rolled her eyes and smiled at Leah. “Men. They’ll say anything if they think they’ll get lucky.”

I started to protest.

“You know I’m kidding,” Susan said. “I think we’re past that point in our relationship.”

“I dunno,” I argued. “You look pretty good without your bikini.”

Leah swatted me. “You really will say anything to get lucky.”

I held up my hands to ward off their teasing. “Okay, okay, you’re right!”

“Of course we are,” Susan said with a smile. “Now, the real reason I stopped you. Leah, dear, you had a phone call this morning.”

Her eyebrows shot up.

Susan unfolded a piece of note paper and read, “From Mark. He wants you to return his call at this number.” She handed the paper to Leah, who scanned it quickly.

“Mark called here?”

“Mmm hmm.” Susan was too polite to ask, but her curiosity was obvious.

“Her boyfriend,” I explained.

“I thought it was something like that.”

“Yeah. Leah can tell you more, but he and I have a lot in common, if you know what I mean.”

“Physically...?”

“Experience-wise,” I said, and gave her a significant look.

Leah missed the exchange. “He called here?” she repeated. “Did he sound upset?”

“Not at all,” Susan said. “More ... excited.”

“I gave him your number,” Leah said absently, “but told him it was only for emergencies.”

“It didn’t sound like an emergency,” Susan assured her. “Or, if it is, it’s a good one. You can call him now if you like.”

“Meet you down at the lake,” I told Leah.

Susan and Leah turned and headed toward her house, which had one of the few telephones in camp.

Leah joined me by the lake about ten minutes later.

“Everything okay?” I asked.

“He wants me to go to a Shuttle launch with him.”

Trip and Wren sat up at that.

“The one with Sally Ride,” Leah explained. “It’s supposed to launch on Saturday, and Mark’s dad can get us in to see it.”

“Cool,” Trip said.

“Yeah, Sally Ride.”

Then it hit me. “Um ... if the launch is Saturday...?”

“Do you mind?” Leah asked.

I did, but I couldn’t begrudge her the experience. Besides, Mark was her boyfriend, not me. “A little,” I said, “but not enough to be a jerk.”

“Thank you. I knew you’d understand.” She fretted. “But I have to decide right now and call him back. If Mom lets me go, I have to go back to Atlanta, pack a suitcase, and meet him in Orlando. Then we’ll drive over to Cape Canaveral.”

“I guess we’d better get a move on,” I said with as much enthusiasm as I could manage. “Especially if you need to get back to Atlanta today.”

“You really don’t mind?”

“Not at all,” I fibbed. “Now, talk to your parents. I’ll head up to Susan’s and call the airport. Back in a few.”

She nodded and looked for her parents to give them the news.

I returned before she finished talking to them. Things didn’t seem to be going well—Leah looked upset and defiant—so I decided to insert myself, if only to keep her from doing something she’d regret.

“But why not?” she said to her mother as I approached.

Elizabeth looked up and saw me. She bit back a heated reply. Judging by her expression, they’d been over the same ground several times already.

“I told you,” Elizabeth said to Leah, “you hardly know this boy, and you don’t know his father at all.”

Chris gave me a long-suffering look.

“Why don’t you go with her?” I suggested to Elizabeth.

Chris sat forward. Before his wife could object, he said, “Absolutely, dear. You can meet Mark and his father, you can keep an eye on Le—”

“I don’t need anyone to keep an eye on me!” Leah flashed. “Least of all her.”

I put a hand on her shoulder, but she pulled away angrily.

“No, hear me out,” Chris said. “Both of you.” He shot a warning glare. The scene would’ve been funny if it hadn’t been so tense. “Your mom has a point.” He held up a hand to forestall Leah’s reaction. “You haven’t been dating Mark that long. And we don’t know his father at all. Ah-ah! You know I’m right.”

Leah looked mutinous, but she fell silent.

Chris turned to Elizabeth. “Leah has a point too. This is the chance of a lifetime. Sally Ride will be the first American woman in space. The first, ever, in history. If you want your daughters to be strong, independent women, they couldn’t have a better role model.”

“She can be strong and independent and still obey her mother,” Elizabeth muttered.

“You can’t have it both ways,” Chris told her with a soft laugh. “You raised her to fight for what she wants. This is what you get.”

“But does she always have to fight with me?”

Leah blinked in surprise at her mother’s cri de coeur.

“She wants different things than you did when you were her age,” Chris said gently.

Elizabeth looked just as mutinous as her daughter, and I had to stifle a laugh at how similar they were.

Chris put a hand on her knee. Then he did the same to Leah, connecting them through him. “Leah can go, but only if you join them.” He turned to Leah. “Do you think Mark’s dad can get an extra pass for the launch? If not, I may be able to pull some strings. We’ll have a crew there.”

Leah nodded.

“Okay,” Chris continued in a soothing voice. “Then I’ll fly you back to Atlanta this afternoon. We’ll spend the night at home, and you can leave for Orlando tomorrow. All right?”

Chris stood and pulled them with him. He kissed Elizabeth and murmured something too quiet to hear. He did the same to Leah and whispered, “Have fun, pumpkin. And be nice to your mom. She’s making a big concession here. Okay?”

Leah nodded and flung her arms around his neck.

I was a bit surprised at how quickly things moved after that. Leah called Mark and returned with the news that Elizabeth was welcome to join them. In the meantime Chris had asked me to drive them to the airport. They packed their things, and we left about twenty minutes later.

At the airport I helped Chris with the flight plan. We were both familiar with the route and radio frequencies, but we still had to check the weather, NOTAMs, and the rest.

Leah balked at the “delay.”

“Flying isn’t like driving,” I told her. “You can’t just hop in a plane and take off.” I explained about the flight plan.

She settled down, but with poorly concealed impatience. I rolled my eyes and returned my attention to Chris and the aeronautical chart.

We finished a few minutes later and then went out to the plane. Chris and I did a walk-around and preflight. Then he checked the fuel while I helped Elizabeth and Leah stow their luggage. Finally, I pulled the chocks and made sure Chris could see that I was clear.

The propeller kicked over with a whine and a puff of exhaust smoke. It whined and puffed again before the engine roared to life. Leah waved as they taxied past, and I waited until they took off before I returned to the station wagon.

I sat in the empty car for a few moments before I realized why I felt so dejected. Leah was gone, and it reinforced that I wasn’t her number one priority. I wasn’t anyone’s priority, I realized. I brooded about it as I started the car and pulled out of the parking lot. I was so preoccupied that I drove halfway to camp before I remembered the undeveloped film.

I turned around and returned to town. After I dropped off the film, I wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone. I ate lunch by myself at a roadside barbecue joint. The food was good, and the melancholy twang of Country music suited my mood perfectly. I was still feeling sorry for myself, so I took my time on the drive back to camp.

Trip and Wren left me alone with my thoughts when I returned, although they made sure to find me before dinner. The evening’s movie was Trading Places, they said.

“You go,” I told them. “I’m not in the mood.”

“Dude,” Trip said, “you can’t miss it. It’s hilarious.”

“And exactly what you need,” Wren agreed. “We left you alone all afternoon.”

“Leave me alone tonight too.”

“Sorry,” she said, “that’s not how this works.”

“Then how does it work?”

Wren ignored my sarcasm and said cheerfully, “I fix an awesome dinner—beef stroganoff with a nice Rhone red, in case you’re interested—and then we all enjoy a movie. Your mom said we can bring wine coolers if we’re discreet. After that, we come back to the cabin, where Trip plays guitar for us and we drink some more.”

“Then we go to bed,” I said bitterly, “you together and me alone.”

“Is that what this is about?” Wren asked. “Sex?”

“No. But sort of, yes.”

“Oh, if that’s all it is, I can take care of it right now.”

“Uh...,” Trip said.

Wren rolled her eyes. “I’m kidding. Mostly.” She turned to me. “Seriously. Snap out of it. You can’t mope around the whole time. Yeah, Leah’s gone. Yeah, you’re on your own for the rest of the week. But you have friends here. And your mom, and Susan, and ... well ... a whole camp full of people.”

Trip nodded. “She’s right, man.”

“Yeah, I know,” I said. “I guess what really bothers me is how fast it all happened. I mean, one minute she’s here and the next she’s gone.”

“Yeah, that sucks,” Trip said.

“But you’ll survive,” Wren said. “Especially with us around!”

I rewarded her with a grim laugh. She was bound and determined to cheer me up, and she wasn’t the kind of person to be defeated by childish defiance. Since I knew she’d win in the end, I decided to give up as gracefully as I could.

“Thanks,” I said. “I appreciate it. It might not seem like it now, but I do.”

“I know,” she said, and put her arm around my shoulders. “That’s what friends are for.”

I didn’t mope the next day, but I wasn’t in the greatest mood either. Wren and Trip did their best to cheer me up, but they couldn’t help but make me feel alone. Things were worse that night. Their bed squeaked, and the walls were thin enough that I could hear when they had sex. Wren had a libido like mine, and Trip was more than happy to rise to the occasion. I felt a depressing mixture of horny and lonely.

At least I had enough to keep me busy on Friday. I drove to town to pick up the prints and negatives from the photo shop. Unfortunately, my attitude nose-dived when I looked through them. Leah was even more beautiful than in my imagination, and the pictures of Wren reminded me that I couldn’t have her either. At least Mr. Nelson was happy, so I hung out for a while and let him talk about his jewelry-making hobby.

I rose early on Saturday morning, and a small group of us watched the Shuttle launch on a TV that Gunny had set up in the clubhouse. The Shuttle lifted off a few minutes after seven thirty, right on schedule. I looked for Leah whenever the camera panned the crowd, but never saw her.

I did mope around after that, until Mom interrupted and asked if I wanted to ride with her to the airport to pick up Dad. I’d been so wrapped up in my own problems that I didn’t even know he was coming. I felt guilty about it, but not enough to change my behavior.

Saturday night was more of the same at the cabin. Since I wasn’t drinking my fair share of alcohol, and Leah obviously wasn’t drinking hers, Trip and Wren felt the need to make up the difference. I went to bed early, in the hopes of falling asleep before they started having sex.

I wasn’t so lucky. Their sex wasn’t loud or athletic or anything, but it had a recognizable rhythm. The floorboards in the living room transmitted the sound directly to my room. I ended up jerking off twice before I wrapped the pillow around my head and shut out the sounds from the other room.

Trip and Wren were dutifully apologetic the next morning. They were monumentally hung over too, which made me feel a little better, but also childish for enjoying their suffering. At least they were too sick to try to cheer me up, so I spent a quiet morning by myself, reading and dozing by the lake.

Later we celebrated Father’s Day with a cookout at Susan’s house. It was subdued for the usual reasons—the Coulters and Erin were absent, and most of us who were there had to leave in a couple of hours—but also because none of us were drinking.

A couple of hours later, we packed our things and said goodbye. Mom drove us to the airport. She kissed Dad and me, and hugged Trip and Wren. I took off into the late afternoon sun and waggled the wings in farewell.

I woke up extra early on Monday morning and went for a run through my old neighborhood. I needed to work out the physical tension from the past few days, but I also wanted to clear my head and get ready for the work to come. Trip was awake when I returned. He was sitting at the kitchen table with coffee and the remains of a simple breakfast. I filched a piece of toast and headed for the shower.

We met Mike and Jim at the Colonial house at six thirty. They’d been in town a week already, and were settled in their small rental house. They’d also done the recruiting for the crews.

“Did you get the schedule and plans I sent you?” Trip asked.

Mike nodded and pulled out a folded and heavily dog-eared sheaf of papers. “I made some changes based on the crews. We brought a couple of guys with us, too: a good finish carpenter and a top-notch electrician. We got lucky here in Atlanta. Hired three brothers who used to work for a roofing company. And an old-timer with more drywall experience than all of us combined.”

“How’d you get him?” Trip asked.

“His last boss pissed him off. Screwed him on jobs, shorted his pay, crap like that.”

“Dumb.”

“No kidding,” Mike agreed. “Especially with a drywall guy.”

“Why?” I asked. “I mean, I understand why you treat guys right, but what’s so special about drywall?”

Mike rolled his eyes.

I clenched my jaw, but didn’t react otherwise.

“This is the problem with architects.” It was a put-down the way he said it. “You don’t know squat about how to build things.”

I waited for him to explain.

He waited for me to explode.

“I still have a lot to learn,” I said at last. “Enlighten me with your pearls of wisdom, O great builder.”

Jim used a calloused fist to cover a smile.

Mike shot him a dirty look.

Jim’s expression said, “You asked for it.”

“Okay,” Mike said, “since you put it so ... eloquently ... drywall is one of those things that can make or break a house. You can have shoddy framing, faulty wiring, and leaky plumbing, but that stuff is hidden. What do you see instead?”

“The drywall.”

“Right. So if the corners are uneven or the seams are bad, you notice right away. Also, a good drywall guy works about twice as fast as a general laborer, who’s still faster’n someone like you.”

I managed a tight smile.

“So you pay him twice as much,” Mike continued, “but he works four times as fast.”

“Exactly,” Trip said. “And a good drywall guy can fix a lot of problems.”

“Problems caused by architects,” Mike taunted.

“Got it,” I agreed, with a serious grip on my irritation. That annoyed him to no end, and Jim shot me a sly grin.

“Anyway,” Mike said to Trip, “as I was sayin’ about the schedule...”

The men on the crew started arriving a few minutes later, in twos and threes at first, but then in a rush a couple of minutes before seven o’clock. Mike introduced Trip and me, and I put on my best game face for his inevitable put-downs. Much to my surprise, he didn’t make a single snide comment. He told the men that Trip and I owned the houses, that we had “skin in the game.” He finished with the news that we were architecture students.

The men groaned predictably.

“Yeah, yeah,” Mike said, “I know what you’re thinkin’. But Trip’s been doin’ renovations for a while. My dad and I taught him everything he knows, so he’s good. Also, he signs the paychecks, so y’all had better look sharp.”

Nods all around.

“And Paul,” Mike continued, “worked with us last year. He learns quick and don’t make the same mistake twice. So teach him right. The world needs an architect who actually knows how to build something.”

“Amen to that,” said a man, and most of the rest agreed.