Chapter 3: Now What?

I had a sick feeling that I had made a very dumb move. I had thrown away twenty-two years of work and experience and loyalty in a fit of pique over a stupid comment from a stupid man. It didn't matter that I was right and justified, it was the consequences of my actions I had to answer for. I had two children ... well ... young adults ... for whom I was responsible. That and a mortgage and a number of other debts. How the hell was I going to pay for them?

Should I eat crow and beg for my job back from Turkey Neck? I just couldn't see myself doing that. I knew my time at North Island had run its course. If I was going to eat crow, it would be at another location in another job. I'd have to work for less money no doubt, but at least I'd have broken free from the constant harassment of Thomas N. Thompson. And that left me with another problem. I had to talk to Mike Thompson. How the hell could two members of the same family be so completely different? You would never believe that Thomas was the offspring of a man like Big Mike. You just couldn't credit it.

"I lost my temper, Mike. I've been having trouble dealing with Thomas the last couple of years and barely tolerated working for him. Maybe it was a case of mistaken loyalty for all that you did for me over the years, but ... I'm sorry. I didn't want this to happen. I didn't want to let you down. But ... I just couldn't take it anymore. Not after Helen's passing. I just couldn't.

"Don't beat yourself up about it, Gerry. I know what my son is like. Hell, I raised him, I should know. I also know that he will have a hell of a time replacing you. But there's something you should know. I've sold the holding company. There'll be a new owner at North Island."

"Oh. Mike ... that's a surprise. What will happen to Thomas?"

"Don't go worrying about Thomas. He'll be looked after financially. The new owners won't keep him on, however. He'll be looking for a new job too. In the meantime, something I never told you. I set aside some shares for you a few years ago. You were the engine that made the business go, Gerry. You'll get a cheque for that share and I hope it tides you over until you can find a new job that suits your talents."

"Who are the new owners?" I asked.

"It's not for publication yet, but I've sold to Mitchell Dodd in Victoria. He already has stores in the south and Nanaimo. Our business fits perfectly with him. He's a good owner and will keep us doing well. Our people are all secure in their jobs. That was a stipulation of the sale. Unfortunately, I was expecting that you would be part of that staff. But ... I understand.

"I talked to Thomas after you left. He really doesn't appreciate what happened. He lacks people skills and doesn't recognize it. He has no understanding of what you have been going through. I apologize on his behalf for his insensitivity. I'm disappointed in him, but I don't think he gets it yet. He needs some help or he'll continue to have problems."

I listened carefully as Mike talked about the business and his son.

"Mike, you made me a success with your support and your teaching. You burned the basics into me right from the beginning. Whatever happens in the future, I'll never forget that whatever I become, you made me successful. You gave me confidence in myself. You let me grow and find my own way. I thank you for that. If nothing else, I'm grateful that I had the chance to work for you and that you gave me that chance. You are my friend."

"Thank you, Gerry. That means a lot to me. Please stay in touch. I want to know where you go and what you accomplish in the next years. I predict you will do well. Please don't forget about Sharon and me."

"You know I won't. Little Mike won't let me," I chuckled.

I was feeling better in a strange way. I'd thrown away my job, but I felt like I'd done the right thing. I'd find a job ... somewhere. I'd hold this family together. The college savings plan would take care of Dionne and Mike for now. I had some RRSP savings to use if worse came to worst. Big Mike even mentioned a share of his business. That was a total surprise, although I didn't expect it to be a big amount.

On a recommendation from one of my divorced customers, I contacted a Mrs. Hilda Gerstein. She offered house cleaning services and reportedly was much better than the run-of-the-mill agencies. I called, set up an interview, and we talked for a few minutes as she moved around my house, examining how much needed to be done.

"Mr. Saunders, I can do what you need in two days a week, about three hours each day at the most. This house is well kept despite having two teenagers," she smiled. "Will that be satisfactory?"

"It will, Mrs. Gerstein. When can you start?"

"Next week. I'll be here Tuesday and Friday if that is acceptable."

"Yes. Thank you. I'm pleased you'll be able to help us. Do you know of anyone who does cooking?"

"No, I'm sorry, I don't," she said apologetically. I had made her aware of why we needed the services and she was sympathetic.

There's a saying that things happen in "threes." I don't know where that idea came from, but it proved to be the case for our family over the next month. I wasn't conscious of it to begin with. They were just disconnected events that I didn't recognize until looking back at them.

A courier arrived at our door on the following Monday with an envelope. It was from a legal firm in Vancouver. I assumed it had to do with Helen's death. I was wrong. I opened it to find a letter and a cheque. I did a double-take when I looked at the cheque. It was for $57,319.80, made out to me. I read the letter and realized that this was my share of the sale of North Island Building Supplies. I gave my head a shake. This was far more than I would ever have imagined. I was going to have to call Big Mike again.

I deposited the cheque in my account, realizing it had bought me some time. Time to find a new career. I didn't have a lot of energy to go out job hunting right at that moment. I was still having a great deal of trouble adjusting to the loss of Helen. I would go to bed at night and lay on my side, alone, missing her terribly. When I awoke in the morning, her side of the bed was still empty. As I wandered through the house from time to time, it seemed far emptier than missing just one person. I felt like the house ... our home ... had lost its personality.

Ten days later, there was a knock on my door one evening. Dionne answered it and came to find me.

"Mr. Robillard is here to see you, Dad," she announced.

I had a moment of irritation before I pushed myself up from my office chair and went to see my neighbour.

"Good evening, Gerry," he said quietly. He wasn't his usual buoyant self I noticed.

"What can I do for you, Richard?" I asked politely.

"Uhhm, well, it's more what I can do for you," he stammered. "I'd like to talk to you about the events surrounding the death of Helen."

I looked at him for several seconds, wondering just what this was about. "You'd better sit down then," I said, gesturing to a comfortable chair. "Would you like anything? Tea, coffee, beer?"

"No ... nothing thank you," he replied, still appearing to be tentative.

He seemed to be gathering himself to say something, so I remained silent and let him begin.

"The accident that ... took Helen's life is still under investigation, I'm told. However, I've managed to get some information from the RCMP. First of all, as we all knew, Helen was driving within the speed limit and in the proper location in her lane. She was blameless. I think we all knew that, but the witnesses and the police confirm it. We know weather was not a factor. So ... they ... the police ... have determined the accident was caused by one of two things. Either there was a failure of the equipment on the trailer, causing it to lose its load, or there was an error on the part of the driver."

He paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts.

"As you know, I have a law firm in Comox. When the RCMP conclude their investigation, you will have the right to seek compensation from the logging company and/or the trucker. This isn't the United States and you wouldn't be seeing a multi-million dollar settlement, but you are entitled to some compensation.

"Helen was a good friend and a valuable worker on my campaign. It broke the hearts of a lot of people, including mine, when she was taken from us. You have two young persons to continue to support and you have other costs that will come about in the absence of Helen. I would like you to consider me ... personally ... as your representative in the matter of seeking compensation. I know money won't bring her back, but you should get some relief for the additional costs you will face with the loss of your wife."

He stopped at that point, looking at me intently.

He was a politician, and that was evident in the manner he presented himself. He didn't want to be thought of as some ambulance chaser, but in truth, he was soliciting business, just as I would have on my former job. I felt a flash of anger for a moment, then settled back. Who better to fight for us than a local politician? They have access to the levers of power. Who was more likely to make himself ... and his client ... look like innocent victims?

"Very well, Richard," I said with a sigh. "We have no family lawyer at present. As you know, Ralph McMurtry retired a couple of years ago and we never made a decision on who should replace him. You'll have to talk to Ralph's old firm to get our file. If you feel you can do a good job for us, then I'll accept that you can represent our family."

He nodded solemnly, still being very careful not to seem too anxious. I wondered if this was just another "act," but decided that we did need someone and Richard Robillard, MLA for the Comox Valley, would be a reasonable choice.

"I'll contact Drummond, Haskell tomorrow and let them know that I will be representing you. They will probably want to contact you to confirm it before they hand over any of your documents."

"Understood," I said, rising from my chair.

Robillard took the hint and rose as well, extending his hand.

"I know I told you this at the funeral, Gerry, but Helen was a dear friend and my wife and I will miss her very much. Thank you for putting your trust in me. I'll do my best on behalf of your family."

I escorted him to the door and we said our mutual good-nights. He was a politician, alright. Saying all the right things and making sure I knew just how upset he was with having to have this conversation. Was I upset? No, not any more. I had pretty well guessed that we would have a case to seek compensation. I just wasn't up for trying to initiate it yet. There was no rush, but it should be done. Robillard took the matter out of my hands and, for that, I was grateful.