Chapter 13: Separation sucks

The downpour of winter rain monopolized my mind from the time I hit the city limits. Paige talked me through the unfamiliar streets, saying she would remain inside the building until my truck was sighted.

"I'll run out and jump in when I see you coming down the street," she said, cautioning me to drive carefully.

"These people are crazy. Is it always like this or is it just the rain?"

Paige laughed. "The kids are out of school this week. They're in town to exchange gifts that are the wrong size or don't suit them. The rain is a contributing factor, but yes, it's always like this."

The windshield wipers struggled to clear my view of the street, and I didn't see her until she squeezed between two parked cars. I stopped as quickly as possible, causing the guy behind me to squeal his brakes.

Paige dropped the small case she was carrying, and threw her body at me, dripping rain from her hair, eyelashes, and off her nose as our lips collided. She pulled away, gave me an appraising look, and spoke in excited amazement, "You came back to me."

If she heard the barrage of horns and abusive language going on around us, Paige disregarded its existence. She pulled me to her for another steamy kiss before shaking her head and laughing at the way cold droplets hit me in the face.

I felt the truck shake, and looked in the rearview mirror to see the guy in the small car behind us shout something. I couldn't make out what he was saying, but from the way he was battling the elements to put his point across, he was not exchanging pleasantries.

Paige directed me to the highway, and we drove southward. We didn't talk because the rain was monopolizing my concentration.

We entered the house, saw the mail on the kitchen table, turned up the heat, and went upstairs to the bedroom on the pretense of drying our hair and getting warm.

We huddled under the covers, and wasted no time in getting into position. I don't know which one of us was hornier. After a vigorous workout, we rested, laughed, and eventually talked, about our short separation, about our kids, and about our concerns.

"What are we going to do, Brian?"

I knew what she was getting at. She wanted to know how we were going to cope with an impossible situation. We were from different backgrounds, our homes were hundreds of miles apart, and we had responsibilities that prevented us from even considering a long-term life together. I did have a half-baked idea, but it was too soon to talk about. It probably wouldn't work anyway.

"I hate to admit it, but we may be in for a life of misery. Let's not become depressed about our situation. Let's live for today," I suggested, and watched her turn her head and run her hand across her eyes.

We got dressed and went to a small café to have dinner. I tried to keep the conversation upbeat. "We have three more days and nights. Let's make the best of them," I said.

"Five nights," she corrected me. "I'll catch an early bus on Tuesday."

"That's even better," I said.

We put gloom behind us and did our best to enjoy the weekend.

We got up on Friday morning to find the refrigerator virtually empty. I opened the mail and updated the estate's financial picture while Paige went shopping.

I paid bills and wrote checks for a distribution. We mailed my parents' check, Paige was to deliver her parents' check, we dropped checks for the Library and Church off at the judge's office and we took the one for the food pantry to Nadine. She invited us to a New Years Eve party at their home.

We thought we knew everything about each other. We had talked continuously over the last four months. We knew the names of each others friends, their personality quirks, and what made them unique. I knew about Paige's affair after Patrick's death and she knew about my day and night with Georgia. I knew her body, intimately, and she had heard the story about how the scar on my thigh was the result of a bicycle accident when I was eight years old.

We talked incessantly, and there was no subject that we didn't agree upon, we thought. Why did such a trivial matter as choosing a realtor to market the house cause such a major dispute? When I took her to the bus early on Tuesday morning, we were no closer to agreement than we had been on Friday and we were still hung up on the method. We hadn't interviewed anyone.

We argued about minor details, like the sex of the realtor. I would have been happy with a duplicate of Lois Barns. Paige said that males were more thorough. I cited my experience with rental property. Paige countered with her years of dealing with realtors all over the United States.

What should have been a simple matter of picking a realtor was stalled. I knew that if we put it to a vote of the committee, we would be divided with forty-four votes each way. Could I count on Nadine's vote? I knew which way Nancy Dickens would lean and she could probably sway Gordon McMahan to vote with her.

The following weekend, I told Paige that I was becoming impatient. "I have nothing else to do here. I have responsibilities at home."

"You keep telling me how well John Larkin manages your business."

"John can't see my children off to school or tuck them in at night," I said, appealing to her motherly instincts. She agreed to interview realtors.

We invited representatives from six companies to tour the house, appraise its value, and to give us an overview of the marketing campaign their office would conduct.

There was a wide variance in the estimates of what the house would bring, but there was one common theme; winter was a slow time for a sale of a home of this type. It would be spring before we could expect to move the property.

It took another week to narrow the choices to two candidates. Paige liked a male, who claimed ties to a nationwide chain of offices, saying that we would have thousands of realtors working for us. I preferred a female with a proven track record in sales of antique homes.

We were at odds. I was stubborn, but Paige knew I was anxious to leave. She had the upper hand. I held out for another week before relenting, accepting her choice of James Harvey. Paige surprised me by saying that she had changed her mind. She would go along with my preference.

We reported that we had signed the agreement for a ninety day exclusive to the other members of the committee, and I made preparations to leave on Monday. Charlie took possession of Mackey's tools, agreed to keep watch of the house, and I directed the post office to forward the mail to my home. I considered taking Mackey's computer and the four drawer file cabinet, but decided to leave his office intact.

Paige cried after we made love for what was to be the last time. She admitted that she had held me hostage by disagreeing with me about my choice of the realtor. I told her that I knew what she was up to, but didn't blame her. "I held out because down deep, I didn't want to leave."

February 2008

After nearly five months away, it took a couple of weeks for me to get up to speed on the status of the business. The inventory was higher than I would have liked, but cash was flowing, and the dealers were happy. I told John that he'd done a good job while I was absent, and I expected to rely on him to continue in the role of general manager. I'd lost interest in the day-to-day operation of the business.

My involvement in the estate was minimal. I kept in touch with the realtor and Charlie, and kept the judge informed when there was any change in the financial picture.

Paige and I talked frequently, about our families, our work, but mainly, we talked about the weekends we'd had together. Eventually, the frequency of the calls tapered off, until we only talked once each week. Hearing her voice gave me the same thrill, but we were tired of talking about the same cloud that hovered above. There was seemingly no solution.

March 2008

Reconnecting with my children was going slower than it should have. I decided that they resented my deserting them for five months with only one short trip home.

I told Paige that I was going to make their birthdays a special occasion, but at the end of the day, I had to report that things had not gone as smoothly as planned.

First, they wanted separate parties, which I vetoed, reminding them that it was a tradition to celebrate their births with one party. As a concession, Mary baked two cakes, and we had two sessions of eating cake and ice cream, singing happy birthday, and opening gifts.

"That sounds like a practical approach," Paige said when I called her.

"I had group activities planned, but Phillip and his friends wanted nothing to do with the games I suggested. They preferred to go outside and kick the soccer ball around. The snow is gone, but my backyard is muddy. I expect to get a phone call from the mother whose kid fell down and got his best pants muddy."

Paige laughed. "Boys will be boys."

"That's not the worst of it. Amanda invited two girls and three boys, but only two of the boys showed up. The girls wanted to dance. The two boys wanted to eat their cake and call their parents to pick them up. I can't say that I blame them. Have you heard the music kids are dancing to these days?"

This struck Paige as funny. "Poor Brian, wait until Amanda becomes a teenager."

"I think she's already there. She asked if I was boinking you."

"What?" Paige asked, not laughing now.

"The guests were gone, and we were looking at the gifts the kids had received. By the way, the sweaters you sent are very nice. They fit perfectly."

"Where did she get the idea that you are ... boinking me?"

"Your daughter. It was Mona's suggestion that Amanda find out."

"I'll speak to Mona. I wonder where she heard that word."

"I asked Amanda that question. She told me that she knows all the words, but she was only repeating what Mona had written."

"Oh, my, I hope you denied that you're ... boinking me."

"I couldn't. Amanda knows me too well. I told her to come to me if she wants to discuss the words that she's heard."

"Brian, that's not the way to handle this. You need to sit her down and tell her about the birds and bees. Do you want me to do it?"

"When?" I asked. She was making the 'talk' with Amanda sound like it needed urgent attention.

"I was thinking of coming to see you next month ... that is ... if you want me? There's a spring break around the fifteenth."

"Of course I want you," I answered, excitedly.

April 2008

Paige's visit became the main topic of conversation at dinner. Amanda was just as enthusiastic as I was. Phillip and his grandmother were indifferent.

Sleeping arrangements became an issue. I could see that Mary resented another woman taking her daughter's place in the home. It was decided that Mona would bunk with Amanda, Paige would occupy Phillip's room, and the boys would sleep on air mattresses in my room.

Paige was devastated when I broke the news that we would not share the same bed.

"Mary bore the brunt of my long absence. She never complained, but I'm sure she knew what was drawing me back after my short visit. I know her. She'll see us together and she'll accept the fact that you're right for me."

"I hope you're right," Paige said.

Everyone did their best to make the four-day visit a success. The meals Mary prepared rivaled her finest work, ever. Paige and I found ways to be alone, two afternoons, in two different motel rooms, and the four kids got along famously. As I watched them play together, it was apparent that Amanda was the leader. No matter what game they were playing, she made sure everyone got a fair turn, but when a question arose, she deferred to the youngest member of the group, her brother.

Paige noticed it too. "You should be proud of her. She and Phillip are especially close."

"Amanda knows she only has two blood relatives. She's lost her father and mother at a very young age. She has a right to cling to Mary and Phillip for all she's worth."

"She's especially close to you, too," Paige argued.

"Yes, she is," I agreed, "but I'm just her dad. We're not blood relatives."

When it was time for our company to leave, Mary hugged Paige and her children, saying that they would be welcome any time they wanted to come back.

All in all, it was a very productive four days. It gave Paige and her children the opportunity to see the community where we lived, and to meet some of our friends.

It was some days later when I found out about the talk Paige and my daughter had had. Amanda came to me first, saying that she liked Paige, and later, Paige confirmed that they had talked, but neither would disclose the content of their conversation.

The Peoples' house had not sold. Mrs. Irene Cousins told us there had been nibbles, and spring would increase traffic. I knew differently; there had been a slowdown in the real estate market. We took a vote and extended her exclusive agreement for three more months.

May 2008

Everything was running smoothly. I was settled in, coasting really. Two telephone calls disrupted my serenity.

"Brian, have you seen Mark?"

It had been months since I'd heard Marian's voice.

"Mark Leach?" I didn't make a habit of visiting the hardware store. As long as the rent checks came in, I let the Leach brothers go about their business. "No, not lately," I told her.

"He hasn't called me for three days, and he doesn't answer his phone."

"Have you tried the hardware store?"

"There's no answer. It just rings and rings."

"What about Max? Have you tried to get in touch with him?"

"I don't know him very well. He makes me nervous."

I muzzled a chuckle, thinking that she may know Max better than she thought. Could it be that she'd been fucking both brothers without detecting the difference in the size of their cocks?

"I'll check on them and let you know what I find," I said

The second call was from Henrietta.

"I think the Leach brothers have flown the coop. Customers are finding the hardware store locked."

"Marian said she couldn't reach Mark. I'll check it out."

I took the keys, hoping the Leach brothers had not changed the locks. No luck. The door on the store would require a locksmith to open. However, Mark had not been so careful. My key opened the outside door to the loft. I went downstairs and asked Henrietta to accompany me as a witness that I did not disturb any personal belongings.

The loft was empty. Mark's clothing had been removed, along with his furniture. Even the drapes were missing. I looked at Henrietta, showing disgust. She must have known that this was no time for wisecracks. She made a face.

Unfortunately, the door leading from the loft to the store was locked, and I didn't have a key. I kicked the door, regretting that I'd ever met the Leach brothers.

"You need to contact an attorney to find out your rights before you break down the door," Henrietta advised.

"I will, but first I'm going to visit the house I rented to Max."

What if Max, his wife, and Mark were there, suffering from some rare disease?

No such luck. Looking through the front window, I could see that the furniture had been removed. A neighbor told me that she had seen a rental truck being loaded.

"When was that?" I asked.

"Midnight until about two AM. It didn't take them long," she said.

I knew my rights. I contacted a locksmith before I called the lawyer. He advised me to enter the store and the two residences, but to have the police accompany me. "File a report. If any fixtures are missing, you can charge them with theft. Otherwise, all you can sue them for is breaking the leases."

The inventory had been removed from the store, but no fixtures were missing. I filed a police report, giving names and descriptions of the brothers, Max's wife, the rental truck and the cars they drove. I didn't have license numbers for their cars or the truck the neighbor had seen. The police said they could track it down through the rental company.

The Leach brothers had disappeared into the night and I was stuck with an empty store, along with a vacant loft and house.

Marian called, wanting a shoulder to cry on. "I was foolish for falling for his lines, but you'd been gone a month and I was lonely. Mark came into the bank every day. He was handsome and friendly. When he asked me to help him decorate his apartment, I couldn't say no.

"You were gone, Brian, and you wouldn't tell me when you would be back. Mark was here, and he was very attentive. Will you ever forgive me?"

"There's nothing to forgive, Marian. All that's important is that you had fun while it lasted."

She began to cry. "I should have suspected something when he didn't make a single deposit last week. He came to my house on Tuesday night. He seemed bewildered, like he had heavy issues on his mind. I didn't think it was especially strange. He often forgot what we'd done the night before. That's the last time I saw him.

"On Thursday, I found out that one of the store's checks had been returned for insufficient funds. I called the store, wanting to alert Mark that his account was overdrawn. His brother told me that Mark was unavailable. He promised to have Mark call me, but I didn't hear from him. More of their checks bounced on Friday. That's when I decided to call you."

"I've filed a police report. Hopefully, they'll be found and returned to stand trial."

"I never want to see Mark again. Can you forgive me, Brian?"

I told her that she was forgiven, and a week passed before I heard from her again.

"Have the police found Mark?"

"Not yet."

"I'm so sorry, Brian. I feel responsible for contributing to your financial setback."

I assured Marian that I didn't hold her responsible for the Leach brothers' sudden departure. What I didn't tell her was that my business had suffered very little financial loss. John Larkin was going to move into the house, and Henrietta jumped at the chance to occupy the loft. It only took an hour to move her furniture from the apartment. I took the bed and some personal items in my truck, and John took the kitchen table and more personal items. As of the first of June there would be one empty apartment. Otherwise, I'd fared very well.

The empty store became a personal challenge. For the first time in months, I had something to replace the emptiness I felt for the loss of not being with Paige. As I told her, "instead of constantly thinking of you, I wrestle with a problem that I am capable of conquering."

"I'm happy for you, Brian, but please, don't give up on us," she said, imploring.

"I'll never give up on us. You're the first thing on my mind every morning, and you occupy my thoughts before I go to sleep."

"Are you going to find someone else to take over the store?"

"That would take too long."

"What about replacing the inventory and operating it yourself?"

"We didn't make it before, and apparently, the Leach brothers couldn't make a go of it either. The competition does a better job attracting the locals."

"Think about it, Brian. What made you successful in your core business? What is your niche?"

I was about to respond that Peg had made us successful when she answered her own questions.

"You don't rely on the locals. You advertise in cities with greater populations. You cast a wide net."

What she was saying made sense. It also proved that she'd been paying attention when I described the business that Peg had set up.

"I give my dealers the opportunity to make a profit in exchange for accepting risk. They pay me up front. That allows me to work on a small margin. We offer quality products at excellent prices."

"Have you considered doing more of the same?" she asked.

"Thank you for having a keen mind."

She laughed, and told me she was looking forward to hearing the details of my plans for the store.

Marian called again. "Brian, I want you to have the desk back. I never paid for it."

"It was a gift."

She was insistent. I put her off, telling her that I was in the process of setting up a new business. "I'll call you before I come by to pick it up," I told her.