Chapter 3: The New Owner

August 30, 1968

My first act as the new owner was to call a meeting with Shelly, Jurgen and my mother. We met for supper at the house. Mom had prepared a typical Sunday dinner of roast beef with plenty of potatoes, beans and corn. Shelly devoured her portion as if she hadn't eaten in a week. I wondered if perhaps she hadn't. Jurgen was more refined with old-fashioned table manners, much like my mother.

We talked during the meal with my telling them a little bit about my background and what my ambitions for the station were. I could see the enthusiasm in both Shelly and Jurgen's expressions. I stopped worrying about getting their support for the changes I planned."

"So, you're a real live cowboy, then?" Shelly asked.

"Was. Not any more," I said, smiling to keep it light.

"I've never met a cowboy before. Did you ride a horse?"

"Yeah."

"Did you have fancy boots and a big hat?" She was obviously fascinated with my former life.

"Still do."

"Did you shoot a gun?"

"I had a rifle ... to keep the wolves and coyotes away."

Shelly shook her head, looking at me in what I interpreted as something close to awe.

Mom was watching and listening to this, almost laughing at Shelly as she probed my past.

Shelly suddenly blushed, realizing I suppose that she had been a bit star-struck with my former life.

Mom helped her out.

"I went over the books this afternoon and the employee records as well," she said as she turned to Shelly. "I notice your proper name is Michelle."

"Yeah. When I was a kid, I couldn't say Michelle and it came out something like "shell." After a while, my mom started calling me Shelly and it stuck. I don't mind it," she said with a small smile.

"Are you from here?" I asked.

"Not far. Sedro Woolley. South down the interstate and east a bit."

"Are your parents still there?" Mom asked.

"My dad is. My mom took off years ago. My dad's a handyman when he's sober. I don't know where my mom is." she said sadly.

"Oh ... I'm sorry," Mom said. "Where are you living now?"

"I'm renting a basement place up on the north side. It's kind of a dump, but it's all I can afford." She didn't sound bitter, she was just reciting a fact.

"And you, Jurgen?" mother continued. "Where are you living?"

"I haf a room in a boarding house near ze docks. It is adequate for me," he said quietly.

"Humpf," was mother's only comment.

"That was one fine meal, Mrs. Williams," Shelly said after a silence.

"Ja ... very goot," Jurgen echoed.

"I'm glad you liked it. I haven't cooked for many people lately. It's nice to have company. We should do this more often," Mom smiled.

"You won't find me gettin' here late," Shelly laughed.

Jurgen was nodding his approval as was I. It sounded like a good idea. I wanted to build a team with these two, and Sunday dinner might be just the way to do it.

I had spent much of the mealtime watching and listening. Shelly was interesting. She was obviously rough hewn, but if she could do half of what she said she was capable of, she was quite a talented woman. I looked at her closely. I could see the clothes she wore were clean, but well worn.

She was an attractive woman, but not in the ordinary sense. She was a sturdy build, I thought to myself. This was no slim, dainty girl, but just the same, there was a quality about her that was appealing. Her brown, wavy hair was cut short. She wore little makeup, but she needed little. Her face was clear and her brown eyes sparkled when she smiled. It was a very attractive smile.

Alternating between brash and bashful, she had been brought up hardscrabble and had survived it. She admitted to dropping out of school before finishing grade eleven and working as a waitress until Bart gave her a chance at the garage. Still young at twenty-five, she was eager to prove herself to me, the new owner. I noticed how my mother had easily accepted Shelly and I was pleased. It made Shelly's life easier and the girl rewarded us with her enthusiasm.

Jurgen Burgmann was much easier to understand. Tall, lean, and gray-haired, he was handsome in his own quiet way. He was always neat and everything about him spoke discipline. Quiet to a fault, he kept to himself unless approached directly. There wasn't a hint of surliness about him. He was, I thought, simply a private man.

He told us he had made his way to America thanks to relatives in the Chicago area. He lived with them for a few years before setting out on his own. He was still reserved about expressing himself in English. To me, it seemed like a matter of self-confidence. Jurgen confessed however, it was to avoid discrimination. In his mind, there were a number of people out there still fighting the war.

His English was better than he allowed others to know, but now, with my understanding of German, he said he felt more secure. He told me I showed no signs of prejudice, and in fact, it was the opposite. I made it plain that I was impressed with Germany and the reconstruction of the west.

We met in the living room over coffee and a cake that Mom had baked earlier that day. It was time for me to lay out my plan.

"I think you all know I intend to make a lot of changes to the station. We are going to strip it down and build it back up again. When we are done, it's going to be the cleanest, best looking, best run gas station and shop anywhere. I've got the experience to know how to do that. So does Jurgen, I think. And Shelly, you say you can do a lot of different things. That will help too. It puts us in pretty good shape, I figure."

I paused to make sure Jurgen understood me, and saw him nod with a slight smile. He understood.

"The first thing to do is to close the station for renovations, but I don't want to upset any customers. Do we have anyone scheduled for the next week?"

I looked at Shelly who shrugged and Jurgen who also signaled he didn't know.

"OK, I'll call Bart in the morning and see if we do. I'll try and make arrangements for any work to get done somewhere else by someone we can trust. I don't want any customer thinking we don't care about their business.

"Mom, would you please call Ted in the morning and arrange a meeting for you and me? We need to talk about new pumps and signs. Sure as heck we won't get 'em overnight."

"Ted already called this afternoon, Rod. He said he'd be by tomorrow," she smiled.

"Good. Problem number one solved." I was getting excited about finally moving toward realizing my ambition.

"What're we goin' to have to buy for work clothes?" Shelly asked cautiously.

"Uhmmm ... nothin' I can think of, except some safety boots. We're contracting with a uniform service for coveralls for you, Jurgen and me. We'll have a clean pair every day and the service looks after the laundry. I want us to look smart and professional. It gives the customers confidence." I heard a sigh from Shelly. "Oh, and Shelly, we'll pay for the first pair of boots." I got a big smile in return from the girl.

I had already decided to talk to Ted about wages for the two. I wanted to make sure they were paid properly according to the going rate for their skills. The difficult one would be Shelly. I wasn't sure how to measure her abilities, but I would have to take a stab at it.

"When do you want to start?" Shelly asked.

"Tomorrow. We'll meet at the station at the usual time and start planning the closure and the work that needs to be done. The big thing will be pumps, signs and the new shop floor. The rest of the stuff is standard plumbing fixtures, lighting and handyman stuff. I'll be hiring painters to do the outside and inside."

"I guess it doesn't matter if I wear my old overalls, huh?" Shelly grinned.

"Nope," I chuckled. "I don't figure they'll survive the next couple of weeks."

I didn't expect it to be easy, but as we neared completion of the renovations, I was beat. More importantly, Shelly, Jurgen, and even my mother were bone weary. It was late Friday afternoon as I summoned my last reserves of energy to walk from the pumps to the shop. The shop with the new paint job and the bright new gray epoxy floor. The smell of fresh paint hung in the air.

Jurgen was sitting on a stool with his head in his hands. He had been organizing the tool racks and the storage racks by himself. As I looked around, I saw Shelly slumped down on the floor, her back propped against the wall, her eyes closed. I walked over to her and slid down the wall beside her.

"That's all for today, Shelly," I said quietly. "You worked yourself too hard, girl. You need some rest. We all do."

"Look at this place, boss. It's crazy. I never thought I'd live to see the day it would look like this." Despite her fatigue, her eyes sparkled with pleasure.