Chapter 32: Construction

“Wow, this place is a disaster!” commented Frank Boscow.

“Yeah, isn’t it cool!” replied his grandson.

“You two are not being helpful,” said Lauren.

The three were standing in the Graham kitchen, looking at the construction going on around them. The week following Lauren and Peter signing their prenups had been busy. First, that Wednesday night, Peter had brought around an architect and an engineer from his firm to discuss what was to be done. Lauren had been amazed to find that the architect had secured plans to her house from the county clerk’s office; she hadn’t even been aware they existed! That following Saturday morning, another pair of much younger and more junior architects had arrived with a laptop computer and a large tape measure, and had made innumerable measurements, both outside and in, before leaving. Within a week’s time, another visit had brought around finished blueprints of the planned changes.

Lauren had goggled at the sight of the rolls of plans, even though she really didn’t understand what they were about. “How could you do all this?” she had asked.

Peter had smiled and replied, “Honey, this is our business, remember? It’s all computerized. We make the changes to the plans in the computers, and they spit right out.”

The junior architect had tried to explain, but Lauren simply waved it off. It was way beyond her. “Just tell me what I have to sign.” Peter and Lauren had both signed the contract, along with the various permit applications, and then she said, “If this goes bad, it is on your head, Mister!” She pointed a finger accusingly at Peter as she said this, which only made him laugh and the architect nervous.

Now, at the end of March, with the winter snows behind them, construction had begun in earnest, and Lauren’s carefully cultivated life was in an uproar. The fence between her front and back yards had been torn down, and a backhoe had driven into the back yard and taken up permanent residence after digging a large trench. The garage had been gutted totally, as had been half the first floor, including the kitchen. The family was now living off take-out and a microwave oven. The refrigerator was in the corner of the living room, and they were getting water out of the bath in the hallway.

The final plans called for the garage to be converted to a weight room and home gym. The garage door had been removed and a new exterior wall was built, though not finished. Eventually, a new floor and ceiling would be in place.

The major changes were being done in the back of the house, where the kitchen and dining room were. The kitchen and laundry room had been ripped out and were being moved around; the kitchen was going where the laundry room had been and the laundry room was headed into the new basement which was being built under the addition. The dining room was moving to where the kitchen had been, and the space where the dining room was would become part of Peter’s study/library/computer center. Upstairs, a pair of small bedrooms and a large bath were going into the space over the addition, which was chewing up the present hall bath. The kids were now using Lauren’s master bath, putting a severe crimp in her privacy.

Heather was the only occupant whose bedroom or bathroom remained unaffected, though the entrance was a bit unsettled. Lauren threatened her with eviction on a daily basis. They couldn’t even move into Heather’s old house for relief. An offer had been made and accepted just before construction had begun, so the house was effectively off limits.

Shirley had brought over some lasagna for Friday night dinner, and placed it on the dining room table, now in the living room. “Do you have a dust cloth around here?” she asked.

“Don’t you start, too, Mom!” warned her eldest daughter.

“Now don’t get snippy with me. I’m not the one who decided to live in a house still being built!” Shirley took a few napkins and wiped the fine plaster dust off the table. Everything in the house seemed dusty, what with the construction going on.

Helen Graham came in from general area of the pantry, still unaffected by demolition, with paper plates and more napkins. “Are you sure we’re not intruding? I mean, it just seems like the last thing you need are more visitors.”

Lauren gave a small but maniacal laugh. “What’s one or two more, at this point!”

Shirley laughed at this. The visitor Helen was worried about was her new lover, Doctor Jack Ferguson, was visiting. Helen was very nervous, this was the first time she had ever introduced a ‘friend’ to the family, and to have it happen in such a disastrous setting was disturbing, to say the least. Fortunately, Jack had taken it perfectly in stride and was presently in the garage drinking beer from the bottle with Peter.

Shirley had been very nervous about inviting Jack to meet her family. He had managed to imply that he knew she was in her forties; the discovery that she had a daughter-in-law in her thirties, and a pair of grandchildren were going to blow that idea to smithereens! She had waited for the right moment in vain, and it was Jack who had brought their ages up.

They were at his condo, where he had taken her after dinner a few nights prior. She was still in her work clothes, a pleasantly form-fitting dress suit and blouse, and once inside, they had settled onto the living room couch and begun kissing. Their kisses quickly escalated, and Helen had found herself stripped naked, laying beneath her lover on the couch, her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. It had been a very energetic session of lovemaking, and when they were finished, with hearts racing and breathing tortured, Jack had rolled off her and slipped onto the floor. Helen laughed and snuggled against him. “Lady, you are going to wear an old man down!” he protested.

“You’re not old!”

“Well, maybe not old, but forty-seven isn’t young anymore, either.”

“Forty-seven!” cried Helen, shocked. She sat up and stared down at him in amazement.

The doctor looked up at her sheepishly and shrugged. “I know, I know. I should have told you, but we’ve been having so much fun together, I never got around to it. I guess I didn’t want you nervous because I’m older than you. I mean I’m not really all that much older...”

“Older! OLDER!” she exclaimed. “Are you nuts? How old do you think I am?”

Now it was his turn to stare at her. “I don’t know ... I mean, I am terrible at guessing a woman’s age. I say too old, I’m insulting her. Hell, I guess it right, I’m insulting her.”

“How old do you think I am?” she repeated. “No bullshit, either.”

Jack shrugged. “Forty-three, forty-four.”

Helen laughed and leaned over, hugging him and kissing him passionately. “Thank you, Jesus!” she cried fervently at the ceiling.

“Forty-five?” he asked, confused.

“I’m fifty-three, you idiot!” she replied with a laugh.

He stared at her as she nodded to him. “Fifty-thr ... you sure don’t look it ... fifty-three? Are you shitting me?”

“I’ve tried to keep myself in shape.”

“You’ve succeeded!” he said.

“I have been so nervous about this,” she admitted. He gave her a quizzical look and she explained. “Well, I knew you were younger than me, but you look like you’re in your thirties. I mean, six years isn’t so bad, but I thought I was old enough to be your mother! I felt like I was robbing the cradle!”

Jack laughed and sat up. “All the guys in my family look young for our ages. You really thought I was in my thirties?”