Chapter 2

Alan Addison’s turn:

I sense a disturbance in The Force.

I can trace it back to my dear daughter, the pTerridactyl. She and her co-conspirator, Rachel, pushed us to buy ultralight aircraft. Now we have four, five if you count the two-seater that Cindy uses for training and for rides, but it’s really not an ultralight, having two seats and being over the weight limit.

I’m somewhat amused at how aviation became part of our corporate footprint. 3S Transport started out as one of those beancounter tricks to ease some money around to lessen our use of aircraft. Now it includes an air charter/air cargo business that actually MAKES money AND gives us access to a stable of wings up to and including a Pilatus PC-24 bizjet that flips between passengers and cargo at the drop of a well-paying hat.

They make money, either from the paying passengers or cargo, or by giving us the fastest response time in the electrical power biz.

And the single most profitable flight on our books was one by Dana Wilkerson Allen in the pTerridactyl’s ultralight.

Dana locating a missing little girl from the seat of that ultralight ended up connecting us with some people in the banking industry who were trying to pick a path bringing their data systems forward.

Little Tara, the girl Dana rescued, is daughter to doting dad Tom Jamison. Tom’s a senior VP with a group of major banks. 3Sigma Digital is all over their systems upgrading networks, data storage, security, translating programs written at the dawn of business computing into modern languages and mating them with modern hardware.

You’d have to haul several metric buttloads of critical widgets to make a million dollars. Dana’s little stress relief jaunt has brought us millions in revenue as we supply a critical need.

Now I’m told we’re back in Tom Jamison’s sights, this time on the ‘family’ side of things.

And if Dana’s ultralight escapade wasn’t enough for impact, Cindy’s first landing of a Cessna Citation bizjet was another, because one of the plane-load of Alabama lawyers who DIDN’T die that night was Jack Haggarty. Jack’s been instrumental in a lot of the day to day legal shenanigans that arise in running a business like ours.

So that’s why I had a talk with Jack this morning. Nope, no instructions. No warnings. Just his laugh and the announcement that “Y’all are doin’ it again!”

Tom Jamison’s turn:

I never suspected. But here we are this evening, at (I’ve learned to call it) “the Pavilion”. Good Lord, the calories! The entree tonight is Beef Stroganoff, and I’ve had it in several restaurants, but NEVER like this. My Lord, the mushrooms, and I can detect a good slug of red wine in there.

I mean, beef is beef, but somehow ... and there’s the lady (they call her “Mizz Juana”) directing her kitchen staff, and they keep bringing out bread sticks, obviously (by the smells) fresh from the oven, and that butter sauce. I don’t want to know what’s in it, but it’s seriously addictive. Ought to be illegal, probably. Mizz Juana is watching, and she’s smiling. Is this a conspiracy?

I’m at Ed Allen’s table, him and Dana, although she and Tara are over at some white-boards with that little red-head, Mandy. Across from me is a lawyer, Heather Jacobs. She nodded at another table, and Mizz Beck came over.

Heather reached down to get her briefcase (ever see a lawyer without one?) and retrieved a document. She produced it and said, “Tom, this is just a home-schooling agreement, showing that you’re aware of the rules and intents of the education introduced here. It’s probably about the same as the one you signed when you registered Tara at her present school. Beck doesn’t have to notarize it, but she’s here as a witness.”

I signed, and Beck signed.

Heather said, “Mizz Beck, I’m giving this to you, and I’d suggest you make several copies, including one for Tom, here.”

Beck nodded, and Heather said, “Tom, I’m working with Mizz Beck on a Provisional Custody agreement for Tara. There are several families involved, so this has to be run by the 3Sigma principals, and then it has to be approved through a court. It’s not unusual, and I don’t expect any problems, but it’ll take a few days.”

I said, “Thank you, Heather, and looking across the room, it appears that Tara is already in school.”

Beck said, “It’s how we work here, Tom. The education is happening anytime the kids are awake. It begins at breakfast, and continues all day. We actually DO have a couple of certified teachers, or maybe five, if you include our people who are on the faculty at Auburn. Not what most people would expect, really.”

I said, “It’s more than I suspected, although I probably shouldn’t be surprised. Heather, have you ever seen anything like this?”

She said, “Never in my wildest dreams, Tom. For a smart kid, this has to be Nirvana. LOOK at ‘em. Drawing on those white-boards, solving math problems, talking and laughing. THIS is what education is supposed to be, or SHOULD have always been.”

Confession time: I looked at Tara, and a couple of unbidden tears formed. Had to wipe them, some.

Heather looked at me and said, “Tom, I need you to come to my office tomorrow, and bring a dollar bill with you, so you can hire me to represent you. And another thing, you owe me lunch -- you know that soup-and-sandwich place?”

I nodded and she reached across the table and touched my fingers. Shock! She smiled and said, “11:00 am?”

I nodded. Damn!

Tara came bouncing back and said, “DAD! This is the place! And you know what? I’m going to be an electrical engineer, when I grow up! Just like everybody else!”

I groaned.

Terri’s turn:

Sometimes it’s not work. Sometimes it’s family and community. That’s why I hauled in the whole bunch of us, the original Munchkins and our parents and mates.

I let Alan lead it off. “Folks,” he said, “I’m sure everybody knows bits and pieces. It’s Dana’s fault.” I nodded towards Dana and Ed. She smiled.

“No good deed goes unpunished,” he said. “She rescued Tara Jamison – Little Tara – and it appears that the universe wrinkled and put Tara and her dad in our care.”

He continued, “Tom’s her dad. Her mom sort of put herself out of the custody picture. You might know Tom as one of the clients of 3Sigma Digital. He’s a big part of a bank in a little part of Alabama. He travels a lot. That wasn’t a problem when Tara was staying with her mom, but now it is. Here’s the deal. Terri?”

My turn. “Tara’s right in between The New Bunch and us, as far as age. Intelligence? Just working with her for that last few days, she’s one of us. Education? She’s been in public school, then private school, and let’s just say ‘rigor was lacking’. She’s having fun so far, getting her feet under her, finding out that she doesn’t have to wait on the rest of the class before she goes on to a new thing.”

Dana picked up the thread. “Tara’s dad will make sure she’s here every day when he’s in town. When he has to travel, Ed and I will be available. That’s on paper. I’m sure that between her and the community, we won’t be the only stop.”

My turn: “Just like it was when y’all first started with me ‘n’ Rache. I won’t say ‘It takes a village’ because too many of you will start rolling on the floor laughing at who wrote that stupid book, but you all know how WE did it. We’re just doing it again, is all.”

I surveyed the group. Didn’t expect to see any negative vibes. Didn’t see any.

Beck’s turn:

“Rabbi Goldman’s going to visit with us this evening, Sim,” I said. “I don’t have to tell you the topic. Tara and Aaron will join us as well.”

My husband shook his head slightly. “I get the feeling that you already have trepidations.”

“I know that he had some conversations about marrying a pregnant seventeen year old girl. Not firsthand information – grapevine story. Might’ve been colored just a little bit by the lady who related it to me.”

“Is he going to want to meet the couple?”

“I’m thinking we won’t have them here for this meeting. We need to find out where he’s going to end up on the issue.”

Sim shook his head. “You know, we’re probably the most regular attendees at Temple, at least under the age of sixty.”

“I know.”

“Rachel and Derek are exemplary young people. I’ve never seen either of them do anything in public that could be construed as antisocial.”

“I know that, too,” I said. “But marrying two sixteen-year-olds, that’s a stretch.”

I sighed. “I know. You know the facts. I know the facts. The whole community knows the facts. We just need to get our rabbi to acknowledge the facts.”

“If he doesn’t?” Sim snorted.

“ ... Civil ceremony is still an option.”

“Beck, my love,” he started.

“Beck, my love,” is shorthand for ‘I’m struggling with something tough.’

“Dear husband...” is my counter. We’re deep into our second decade of marriage. We know each other well.

“We’re Jews. In Alabama, but still Jews. THEY want a rabbi’s blessing...”

“So let’s talk to Rabbi Goldman and get him on board.”

I mirrored my mother’s actions when faced with a visit from the rabbi – I surveyed the house, making a few last-minute corrections. Sim was somewhat amused.