Chapter 8

When we got back to the house, Aunt Marge was in a flap.

"Mrs. Doolittle called the shop this morning and they had to take Bobby into the hospital last night" she said. "That poor boy had another spell with his heart. He's going to be OK, but he'll be off work for a while. The Jacks have been run off their feet without him. I have to get some lunch down to the boys."

Bobby Doolittle was nearly 40 years old, but he was retarded. He had worked for my Uncle Jack for as long as I could remember. He pumped gas and checked oil, and the customers loved him. Sometimes a new customer, especially a tourist, would be a little startled to see Bobby's slightly distorted face peering in their car window, but Bobby was the kind of guy that everyone loved. And he loved working for my uncle. His heart condition was related to his retardation somehow. Every once in a while he ended up in hospital for a few days.

"Hey, Aunt Marge? Why don't I take lunch down to the shop?" I offered. "The girls are going to do some chores for you. I'll throw that picnic basket on Jack's bike and take it to them."

"Oh, that would be wonderful, Donnie" Aunt Marge exclaimed. "I get in such a tizzy when Bobby gets sick. Just give me one more minute and I'll have things ready." She went back into the kitchen to finish making lunch.

When she had the basket ready, I stowed it on cousin Jack's big old bicycle, and took off. The service station my uncle owned was about a 2 mile ride with easy traffic until I hit Main Street. Then I stayed on the sidewalk the rest of the way to the shop to avoid getting run over.

When I got there, both Uncle and Cousin Jack were at the pumps and there were a couple of cars waiting to be served. I took the picnic basket into the office and set it on Uncle Jack's desk. Then I went out to the pump island to tell them lunch was served.

"Thanks, Don" Uncle Jack said. "We'll get it when we can. We're busier than usual and with Bobby off sick we're like the butcher that backed into the meat grinder." He waited for me to ask him what that meant, but I had heard him use that line a hundred times. Finally he gave the punch line without being asked for it. "We're getting a little behind in our work." And he laughed at his hilarious joke.

I laughed too, but more at him than with him. "Hey, Uncle Jack" I said. "Why can't I watch the pumps for you? It can't be that hard. Bobby can do it so I should be able to. How about it?"

He looked at me for a couple seconds, then said "Why not? Bobby has a pair of pants in his locker that should fit you. Go put them on. I don't want you waiting on customers wearing shorts. And grab a cap out of my office."

I got the pants out of Bobby's locker and they fit OK. With the cap and pants, I looked presentable. Jack taught me how to use the pump — ask the customer what grade of gasoline they wanted, put the nozzle in the car, turn the pump on, turn the reset handle for the amount, then squeeze the nozzle. He showed me how to check the oil and to show the dipstick to the driver if it looked like it needed to be topped up. Then he showed me how to put the cash into the register. "And always thank the customer for coming," he said. "Even if they are just tourists passing through, we're glad they stopped to fill up here. If you're polite, they'll stop on their way through again."

"Don't worry, Uncle Jack" I said. "I'll do a good job."

He clapped a hand on my shoulder. "I know you will, Donnie Come get me if you have any questions or problems. Don't be afraid to ask if you don't know." And with that, he left me on my own to be a pump jockey.

I gained a new respect for retarded Bobby. I busted my hump that afternoon, as cars came in non-stop. Fill up the gas tank, check the oil, check some tire pressures, run back and forth between the cash register and the pumps — by the end of the day, my ass was dragging.

There was one interesting customer. A very pretty blond drove up in a blue 1965 Ford Galaxie 500 XL. It was a sweet ride. It was the hardtop coupe model with a 428 cube engine and bucket seats and console mounted shifter. It was hard to know whether to look at the car or the driver.

"Good afternoon, ma'am" I said. "Welcome to Jack's Service. Fill it up?"

She looked up at me with a smile, then seemed surprised. "Oh. Isn't Bobby here?"

"He's off today, ma'am" I said, giving her the story I had told any who asked. "May I help you with anything?"

"Uhm, yes. Well, fill it up, please. With Premium." She was looking toward the service bays, as if to see if Bobby was hiding on her.

I put the nozzle in the fuel filler and went to wash the front windscreen.

"Excuse me" she called. "Is Jack here?"

"Junior or Senior, ma'am" I asked.

"Oh, Junior I meant."

"Yes ma'am. He's in the shop. Would you like to speak to him?"

"If he isn't too busy. Please."

I finished the windscreen then went and got Jack. I figured he wouldn't mind speaking to this babe. She was pretty good looking. I stuck my head in the service bay and called out "Jack. Someone wants to see you out at the pumps."

Jack had his head under the hood of a car, but he came out and wiped his hands on a rag. "Who is it?" he asked.

"Don't know. Didn't say, and I didn't ask. Good looking blond in the Ford."

Jack looked surprised, then a little embarrassed. "Oh. Yeah, she's a, uhm, a really good customer. Why don't you grab a Coke? I'll look after this customer."

I did grab a Coke, but I watched Jack through the front window of the office while he served the lady. They had quite a lengthy conversation. It seemed to me that she might be more than just a customer. But hey — she was cute, and if Jack had a thing going with her, well good on him I thought.

Jack came in and rang up the sale, then went out to the lady. Another car pulled up and I went out to look after it. The lady in the Ford left, and Jack went back to the service bay. I kept pumping gas for the rest of the day.

We closed up shop at 6 PM. My uncle took the cash drawer into his office and did up his sales reports and bank deposit. Jack Jr. and I had another Coke while we waited. I wanted to ask about the lady in the Ford, but decided not to. I changed back into my shorts and rolled up the pants to take home to be washed.

Uncle Jack came out and said "Well, that was a good days work. We even balanced. The cash is usually out a few bucks when Bobby is running the register. Thanks for your help today, Don. We couldn't have gotten much done without you."

"No problem, Uncle Jack. I was glad to help out. Hey, if Bobby is going to be off for a while, why don't I help you until he's back?"

Uncle Jack didn't say anything for a few seconds. I wondered if he had heard me then he spoke. "I could sure use you, but I'll need to discuss it with Marge first. She knows you're here for a vacation, and if I work you too hard, she'll never forgive me. Let me talk to her tonight."

As he spoke, Aunt Marge and the girls pulled up in her car. I threw the bike in the back of the pickup truck and climbed in with Cousin Jack. Uncle Jack got behind the wheel of Marge's car and we took off. I thought we were heading to a picnic site near Skaha Lake, but when we passed it, I asked Jack where we were going.

"It's a secret" he said. "I'm not supposed to tell you, but Dad bought a cottage on the lake late last year. It's not much, but it's secluded and we like to spend our down time out there."

"A cottage?" I asked. "That's neat. Is it right on the lake?"

"Yeah, sometimes we put the boat in the water here and ride over to it. I want to build a boathouse out there so I can just leave the boat there."

We took 97 south out of Penticton, past the go kart track and headed for OK Falls. When we got to the Kaleden turn, we took a left and went down the hill toward the lake. Fruit trees laden with apricots and peaches hung over the road.

"This is really steep" I said to Jack. "I'd hate to be driving down this in the winter."

"They look after it pretty good" Jack said. "We were out lots this past winter when we were home from school. It gets sanded and plowed so you just have to take it easy."

At the bottom of the road we turned north again, as though we were heading back to Penticton. The burned out Kaleden Hotel stood stark and gutted at the end of the road where we turned. We went quite a ways. I thought we were going to end up back in town. Finally we turned where it appeared there was no road.

"Geez, Jack" I said. "Where the heck is this place?"

Jack laughed. "Mom thought Dad had bought swamp land when he first brought her out here. But we're nearly there. There isn't any development back here yet."

Sure enough, we turned by a big tree and there was the cottage. There was a huge plot of lawn in the back where we drove up. The cottage was really just a cinder block building with a flat roof and yellow trim, but once we were inside, I could see that it was very comfortable. Three bedrooms, a bathroom with a flush toilet and a shower, and a huge fireplace in the living room. The kitchen was small, and the dining room was just the space between the kitchen and living room. A set of French doors opened up onto a huge concrete deck, and from there you could see down to the sandy beach and the boat dock, where Jack's 17 foot boat with a 75 horsepower Johnson outboard sat.

"Wow, this is pretty neat, Aunt Marge" I said. "I could live down here."

She laughed. "I suppose you could. Your Uncle seemed to think he had some money he didn't know what to do with. Land's sake, they saw him coming when they sold this to him." She didn't look as upset as she sounded. Uncle Jack came up behind her and gave her a little pat on the ass.

"Ah, babe" he said as he gave her a kiss on the side of her head. "It will be a good investment. We might be able to retire down here and when we're gone, the kids can sell it for a big profit."

"Pshaw" Aunt Marge said, moving out of his grasp. "Profit my foot. They'll have to work two jobs just to pay the taxes."

I thought the dialogue between the two of them was interesting. It seemed that Uncle Jack was a bit more aggressive with his money than Aunt Marge. She seemed to want to play things pretty safe. But years later, Uncle Jack's words would prove true. In just twenty or so years, this little cottage he bought for the outrageous sum of $6,500 would sell for $1.8 million. And I would learn that Uncle Jack had invested in lots of properties around the area, from houses to apartments and even some orchards that would become vineyards when the wine industry took off. Uncle Jack and Aunt Marge would appear to those around them as plain, simple working folks, but they would be multimillionaires by the time they passed away. Jack Jr. and Angie would reap the benefit of their dad's investments.

But that was all an unknown then. Now it was time to eat. The ladies had come out earlier with the boat and food, and had started the grill before they came in to pick us up. We grilled burgers and Aunt Marge had some salads and sides made for us. When our plates were loaded, Uncle Jack came out with some beers, and he popped a cap off one and handed it to me.

"Ahem, Jack" Aunt Marge indicated her disapproval.

"Ah, it's his birthday, baby cakes" Uncle grinned. "A beer or two won't hurt him."

I grinned and took a pull on my first beer. My family didn't drink much, so I didn't have the opportunity to even taste alcohol growing up. I was lucky I didn't choke on my first gulp of beer. I noticed the girls watching me, so I lifted my bottle in a toast and said "To birthdays."

Everyone mumbled "To birthdays" and took a drink. We chatted amongst ourselves and refilled our plates until we had finished off most of the food. Aunt Marge got up and went in to the kitchen. In a couple of minutes she reappeared bearing a birthday cake complete with candles. Well, one candle, thankfully.

I looked at Angie and she covered up a smirk on her face. Everyone started singing "Happy Birthday." I blew out the candle and we dug into the cake. I nursed my one beer. I noticed Angie and Sandy had gone through 4 or 5 beers and didn't seem to be feeling any the worse for it.

We had moved away from the table and were sitting on lounge chairs, looking out over the lake at the hills and lights on the opposite shore. Uncle Jack came and sat beside me. "I talked with Marge about you working for me" he said. "She's not real happy, because she thinks you need to have a good time while you're here. And she knows Bobby is going to be out for a while, too. So, if you want, we agreed that you could work from 8:30 to about 2 o'clock each day. Then the girls can pick you up and you can go to the beach. How does that sound to you?"

"That sounds great, Uncle Jack. I really don't mind working. You can't spend all day at the beach, so this will give me something to do and still let me get a little sun and sand. Thanks. If I screw anything up, I expect you to chew me out like any other employee."