Chapter 13: A Very Wealthy Boy

Tony pulled up to Rebecca's house in his father's Lincoln. Two weeks had passed since the three teens had discussed what was initially just called "The Wheelchair Project". It would have been nice if there were a way to make it a surprise for Marj and the hospital but the logistics were just too great. It had, however, eventually raised some questions. To most everyone else who asked, the answer was simple; an anonymous donor was financing the project. Tony and Tina's parents knew who the donor was but telling Mr. and Mrs. Harris was going to require revealing more than they yet knew about Tony. It was time for the talk with them that the teens had discussed weeks before. Tony was taking the family to dinner.

He thought Rebecca looked stunning and told her so. She was wearing a simple white sundress. It probably would have been a little too much white just a few weeks ago, but her routine time in and around the pool at his house had darkened her once alabaster skin somewhat. She wasn't exactly a bronze goddess but it was enough to contrast nicely with the dress. Her hair and eyes stood out spectacularly against the white fabric. White was definitely the best color for her, a thought best left unspoken.

They pulled up directly in front of the crowded restaurant. Tony had acquired a temporary handicapped permit, mostly to allow him to park in front of the school instead of the student lot, which was about 20 feet in elevation below the main building. He had grabbed it out of his own car before heading out for the night.

The restaurant was a bit of a touristy place. It was, legend had it (and the establishment flaunted), once actually the home of a notorious pirate. Many people were milling around outside waiting on a table. Tony left the three outside and went to the hostess' station to check on their table. The restaurant didn't normally take reservations but he had asked that a table near the front be reserved for a handicapped member of the party. They had agreed, but only if his party was prompt. They were actually a few minutes early.

He had hoped the whole thing would go unnoticed, but as soon as they were seated, Rebecca was on to him.

"Tony, how did we just get a table before everyone else?" she said suspiciously.

"I wondered that myself," Mr. Harris said. "It says no reservations on the sign by the front."

"Tony do we need to have another talk?"

"No we don't Rebecca. What happens when we try to go out to a nice restaurant? What happens when we try to get to our table?"

"Ugh, the chair gets in everyone's way. It's embarrassing."

"So I called ahead and asked them not to embarrass you. They did it for you not for me. OK?"

Rebecca pulled Tony to her by his arm and kissed his cheek. "Thank you Tony that was nice of you."

Marj beamed at him. "That was very thoughtful of you Tony. I'm not sure that really explains the whole conversation though. What did Rebecca think you had done?"

Tony was saved by the waiter. He passed out menus and accepted drink orders before disappearing again, only to be followed by another server placing a loaf of fresh bread on the table and filling water glasses.

"Tony," Mr. Harris started, looking at the menu. "You know this is a very expensive restaurant."

"Please," Tony said. "Don't think about it. I assure you by the time we are finished you'll understand. The cost of dinner is, hmm, I'm not sure what the correct word is. Irrelevant I guess will work for now."

Tony noticed Marj looking at him intently from time to time as dinner was served. He decided to defuse the situation some. "Relax Mrs. Harris. As much as I love Rebecca, we aren't here to make an announcement in any way, shape, or form. More like an explanation for some things that may be puzzling you, or definitely will in the future, unless it's explained."

That seemed to mollify Marj somewhat. It hadn't occurred to Tony beforehand that she would think something like that might be the reason for taking them to dinner. Still, even having them here, he hadn't quite figured out how to broach the subject he wanted to talk about. Mr. Harris gave him the inroad he'd been seeking a few minutes later. It was the same one he'd used with Rebecca.

"So Tony," he started. "I'm interested in hearing about this 'ship' Rebecca was talking about. She says your family has quite a nice boat they allow you to use. Is it a cabin cruiser of some kind?"

"In a matter of speaking I guess," he replied. "Though I guess we really ought to define Kalliste a bit better. She's really not a ship or a boat I don't think. The closest I can come to a correct nautical term is a motor yacht."

"A yacht?" Mr. Harris asked, sounding doubtful.

"Yes. There are a lot of definitions I've found for the term 'yacht'. The overall size, weight, length, and number of staterooms are some. The best definition I've found is that to be a yacht a pleasure craft generally has to have a beam, or width, of greater than 12 feet. Kalliste's beam is 15 feet. Calling her a boat, on the other hand, definitely cuts down on a lot of questions."

"Staterooms? Just how big a, um, yacht is this?"

"Kalliste is 55 feet long. She weighs just under 22 tons dead weight, and displaces a bit more than 36 tons," Tony replied, knowing that a longshoreman would understand what displacement was.

Mr. Harris laughed. "Well I guess I can see where Rebecca gets the word 'ship' from then. That's quite a vessel. She mentioned your grandfather left it to you, but isn't something that large incredibly expensive to maintain. Even if something like that were given to me I'm pretty sure I couldn't afford to keep it."

"It's said that wives define a boat as 'a hole in the water you throw money into'. I definitely have a rather large hole in the water that's for sure. She's going to be hauled out next month for a major refit. It will take the better part of the winter to get it all done."

"Refit?" Rebecca asked. "What on earth does Kali need a refit for? She's just about perfect Tony."

"No sweetie, not even close. Kali is a large, 27-year-old, wooden hulled boat. Just sitting at dock she lets in about eight gallons of water a day."

"Eight gallons! She's sinking?"

Tony chuckled. "No she's not sinking. Well I guess if I turned off all the pumps and left her there for a year or so it's possible. Eight gallons a day really isn't that bad for a boat that size really. But she also still has a lot of original parts that are getting pretty old. Granddaddy was always doing something with her but this is probably her first major overhaul."

"What are you going to do with her?" Mr. Harris asked.

"Hmm, well periodically on boats like this you do a survey. They check all the wood for rot and weak spots. I imagine there will be several hull planks if not more that will need to be replaced. Then I'm going to have the lower hull from the waterline down sealed with fiberglass. That should shore up the hull for quite some time. Then the real work will start. Both engines are being replaced."

"I think you just went from pretty expensive to very expensive. Wouldn't it be better just to rebuild the engines if they needed it?"

"Yes it would. But both have been rebuilt twice already. The real problem is that they are just old. They guzzle diesel at a pretty amazing rate. Kalliste burns 12 gallons an hour now at 14 knots. We're replacing the old 8-cylinder Detroit Diesels with new 6-cylinder Caterpillar Turbo-Diesels. Of course, it's not that easy. The transmissions, shafts and props all have to be replaced as well. The whole refit was designed by a naval engineer in Virginia. The end result should be a cruising speed of 18 knots instead of 14 while burning a little less than 10 gallons an hour. That's all on paper by the way. No one has actually done this with this kind of boat before."

"That seems an awful lot of money to pay to save on fuel." Mr. Harris said.

"True, if that were the goal. The increased cruising speed is nice as well, but more important is the range. Currently if you filled the 400-gallon tanks on Kali, you would flat run dry after you went 450 nautical miles or so. Given the generator also uses the main fuel supply you really aren't safe planning a trip of more than say 300 nautical miles and have a reasonable reserve. With the new engines, those figures go up to 700 and about 600 respectively. That's the real goal. Tina and I are planning a long cruise next summer and we want the extra range."

"Tony I can see your parents allowing you to use the yacht around Savannah, though they must really believe you are quite responsible. But will they actually allow you to take her on a cruise?" Marj asked.

"Hmm," Tony muttered, "how to best phrase this?" He thought for a second. "If they didn't give us permission to go on a cruise with Kalliste we wouldn't defy them, let's put it that way. On the other hand, Kalliste isn't their yacht. She's actually mine, papers and all."

"But they are paying for all the upkeep and this refit you've been talking about Tony. That definitely gives them a stake. What you've described has got to cost tens of thousands of dollars." Mr. Harris interjected.

"Actually it's well over a hundred thousand," Tony explained. "There's electrical wiring, plumbing, a new generator, air-conditioner, and a lot more. But to answer your question, no, they aren't paying for it. I am. While the rest of my family really likes Kali I don't think any of them would go quite as far as I do with her. She's more than just a yacht to me just like she was to Granddaddy."

The table got quiet for a few moments. Rebecca reached over and gripped Tony's hand on the table in plain view.

"Tony," Mr. Harris began. "I think what you are trying to tell us is that independent of your parents you have the means to pay for a project such as this. Which I guess means you are trying to tell us that you are wealthy in your own right somehow. I imagine Kalliste wasn't the only thing you inherited from your grandfather right?"

Tony nodded.

"Still, is it wise to spend so much of your inheritance on such a thing? I mean there is college still to think about right?"

"That's a fair question. I certainly do intend to go to college. Where we don't yet understand one another is only a matter of degree. We're still a long way off there. You've been in Savannah for a number of months now: maybe this will help. My grandfather's name was Christian Mayfair."

Mr. Harris looked blank. Marj, however, gasped. "Mayfair's millions," she almost whispered.

She looked at her husband. "It's almost a legend around here. Mr. Mayfair, I didn't know his name was Christian, died what Tony, two years ago?"