Chapter 8: Coming to Terms

"How was your date, Dad?" Dionne asked me the next morning.

"It was great. I think Rita was the Belle of the Ball."

"Really? Did you dance with her?"

"Almost every dance," I admitted happily.

"Oh ... wow, every dance. Do you think it's serious, maybe?"

I laughed. "Sweetheart, it was our first date. It's far too soon for us to be serious."

"When are you going to see her again?" she persisted.

"This afternoon. We're playing golf with Al and Marion."

"Really? That's good, right? I mean, she plays golf like you do."

"It's nice that we have that in common," I agreed. I was almost laughing as my daughter continued to try and extract every bit of information about my date that she could.

"I'm glad, Daddy. I'm glad you've found someone you can have as a friend."

"I'm glad too. It's nice to have someone I can spend time with and talk about something other than work."

Al had reserved a power cart for the ladies, the pro shop reminding them that they had to stay on the path and off the fairway. He and I walked the course as we usually did. It was cool, but the sun was out and, properly dressed, we were warm enough. The girls had some mittens as Al reminded them that it was colder riding in the cart than walking.

We played only nine holes, but that was enough for us. Al was still getting used to his new irons and used the opportunity to test out some shots with them. There were very few people on the course, so we could take our time and not worry about holding anyone up.

I didn't get much chance to talk to Rita during the game as she was constantly looking at her shot, then heading back to the cart to select her club. I could see, however, that she had taken lessons and had a very nice, consistent swing. I was looking forward to the warmer weather and the opportunity to play alongside her.

Afterwards, we headed home to change before we gathered at the Goshulak home for dinner. Dionne was going to make something for herself, Rick and Mike at our house. Marion had made a beef stew earlier and it had been simmering on the stove for hours. It was delicious and I asked for the recipe. I was trying out new things for meals and this looked like a winner, since once it was made, it could be served and the leftovers could be frozen for another day. That appealed to me.

I never failed to feel completely relaxed in Marion and Al's company. Rita must have felt the same way. We were sitting on the sofa together. At first, we were a few inches apart, but later I noticed that space disappeared. She certainly wasn't shy. I thought about putting my arm around her and decided not to. I was rushing things. I was trying to come to terms about any relationship I might have. Rita was a very desirable woman, but my brain was reminding me that we hardly knew each other.

Monday was a work day, so our evening together ended just before ten. I thanked Marion and Al for the meal, especially when Marion gave me a copy of the recipe. Rita and I walked out together.

"This has been quite a weekend, Gerry," she said, stopping at her car.

"Yes, it has. If I seem a little hesitant, Rita, it's just because I want to get to know you better and you need to know more about me, too. That said, I would like another date with you."

She smiled. "All you have to do is ask. Is there something special you'd like to do?"

"I don't know," I admitted. "I haven't even thought about dating until last evening and today. Like I told you, it's been over twenty years since I've been on a date, so I'm going to have to do some catching up. But don't let me make all the decisions. If there's something you want to do, tell me."

"Oh, I have something I want to do, alright, but I think it's going to have to wait," she said with a sly look. "Why don't we talk about it later in the week?" Maybe something will occur to us by then."

"Sure. That sounds like a good idea. So ... we have a date for next weekend, but we don't know just what it is yet, right?"

"Yes, Gerry," she chuckled. "We have a date for next weekend. Good night," she said, once again with a light kiss on the lips.

I watched her drive off and then headed across the front lawn to my door. I had a very euphoric feeling about the past two days. Rita was quite bold in her interest in me. That was flattering, but it also reminded me to take it slow. Sometimes these instant romances can flare out just as quickly. I didn't want that to happen.

My earlier conversation with Dionne had reminded me that Rita wasn't anything like Helen. She was decidedly different. Not just in appearance, but in personality. She was much more assertive and self-assured. Perhaps that was why I was being wary. I wasn't used to a woman being as direct as Rita. I realized it didn't bother me, but it did alert me to her very direct manner. She was a more complex woman than Helen was.

I lay in bed thinking about the weekend and Rita. She was putting quite a lot of pressure on me, I thought. She was staking her claim, as the saying goes. I wondered what would become of me if it all went sour. She was an important part of Granite Giant, and that could have serious repercussions for the business. Another thing to think about. It kept me from sleep for another hour.

I was up at my usual winter hour of seven o'clock. Dionne was just rising as well, while Mike was stealing his usual extra fifteen minutes before rolling out of bed and into the shower. It was still pitch black, the sun not rising until a quarter to eight. Friday morning in the first week of February. I had plenty to do that day. The apartment complex would be getting their countertops today for the first floor. The top three floors were held back in agreement with the contractor to facilitate having the boom lift on site without disrupting the other sub-trades too much. That installation would happen the following week.

Our plan had worked perfectly so far. We got the contract because we had the best product at a competitive price. The other closest bidder had not recognized the need for the lift and would have been forced to eat the additional cost. He withdrew his bid. We appeared to be going from success to success. In fact, Al was now looking at expanding the business. That would only work if he had the manpower to sustain it.

"Where do you want to be?" I asked him as we sat during a lunch break.

"I'd like to move a little further south," Al said. "Parksville and Qualicum Beach are good targets. I haven't even looked at Port Alberni or the west coast."

"I agree with Parksville and Qualicum, but I think the others are low volume potential," I warned. "We would spend more time developing business than shipping orders."

"Okay, Gerry, I'll take your advice on that. You've been around here a hell of a lot longer than me," he smiled.

I liked that about Al. It was okay to disagree with him if you could explain your reason. Most of the time, he deferred to my experience in the district and went along with my suggestions.

"That's going to put us right on top of Nanaimo, Al," I said, guessing his strategy.

"Yes it is," he grinned. "It's another opportunity. After all, coming off the ferry, our trucks go through Nanaimo every time we bring a load over here. Seems logical to explore that market, wouldn't you think?"

"Yes ... providing we have the manpower," I said cautiously. "Right now, it would stretch us past our limits."

"Yes it would," he agreed. "So ... as sales manager, what would you suggest?" he grinned.

"Since when did I become sales manager?" I asked.

"Since I decided to expand the business," he said, still showing that self-satisfied smile. "We need a plan for that, and I can't think of anyone better to develop that plan than you."

"Al, you have only been here a year and you want to expand already? Is that wise?"

"Gerry, you have to strike while the iron is hot. The market is there and we now know it will support us. What I want to do won't happen today. We need to bring more people on board and have a plan of attack. But I don't see any reason we shouldn't control the business from the mid-island to Campbell River."

I leaned back in my chair and thought about it. It was ambitious ... maybe too ambitious. The most serious problem would be finding the people needed to make it work. The de-installation and installation crews needed to be up to our quality standards. The sales people had to be trained as thoroughly as I was.

"How much thought have you given this?" I asked.

"Some," he said. "I see Rick as being able to oversee the crews in that new area. He's experienced, dedicated, and tough enough to keep them in line."

I nodded. I agreed that Rick would be a good choice for that role.

"So that leaves me to find the sales people," I said.

"Exactly. Who better to find the right kind of people than my most trusted sales person, soon to be sales manager?" he smiled once more.

"I appreciate your confidence in me, but this is a big undertaking. Have you given any thought to a budget?"

"In round numbers, yes," Al nodded. "But I know I haven't thought of all the costs, so it will need work. I can direct Rick to do some developing of the crew costs. There will be some training costs there for sure. After that, you and I will have to sit down and figure out how many sales people and how much they will cost."

"Does Rick know about this plan?" I asked.

"Not yet. I'm test driving by you first. I need to know it's possible before I get everyone all excited."

"Okay, let me give it some thought before we jump. I want to look at the comparative housing starts in Parksville-Qualicum as well as Nanaimo. That will tell us where the most likely place to start should be."

"Good," Al said, rising and washing out his coffee cup. "Let's talk about it when you've had time to analyze the market."

I got on the Internet and looked at housing starts for the three areas of interest. The past year, 2012, generated 750 new starts total in the target area, with 660 of them in the Nanaimo region. I assumed that would include Nanoose Bay and Gabriola Island. A large enough market to sustain an effort. In my opinion, a two person sales force would be more than enough. In all likelihood, one-and-a-half with the second person providing additional coverage in the smaller up-island communities.

There was a time in the 60s and 70s when Nanaimo had been considered a future ghost town. The lumber and pulp and paper industry had shrunk and the town had been giving off all the signs of dying. But it didn't die. It hung on and gradually it came back. It had made itself into something other than the rough-and-tumble mill town of the 1950s. They were building new houses and condominiums and putting a fresh coat of paint on the mid-Island city. Nanaimo was where it would make the most sense to put our efforts.

It was Tuesday the following week that once again our family had a traumatic event. It began at seven-twenty in the morning when I noticed there was no sign of Mike and I sent Dionne up to kick him out of bed while I made coffee and set the table. She was gone a couple of minutes before I heard her call me. There was the sound of urgency in her voice that I recognized. I hustled up the stairs to Mike's bedroom to see what the problem was.

Dionne was on her knees at Mike's bedside, stroking his head.

"He's burning up, Dad. He's sick. We need a doctor," she cried.

I moved to the bedside and felt his forehead. Dionne was right, he was showing a high fever.

"I tried to wake him, but I couldn't," my daughter said with tears now showing.

I thought about what to do, but decided there was only one thing I should do. "Let's get him into the car and take him to the hospital."

Easier said than done. Two hundred pounds of muscle and bone was not an easy thing to move, but I wrapped him in my heavy robe and with Dionne's help we got him down the stairs and into the garage. Fifteen minutes later we were in the familiar surrounds of St. Joseph's Hospital Emergency Ward.

It was a relief to have someone help Mike into a wheelchair. He had not regained consciousness and I was beginning to fear the worst. It took less than five minutes to have him admitted and he was quickly moved into a bed and attended to. Dionne and I went back to the waiting room, hoping we would hear something soon about what had happened to my son. I had vivid memories of my last visit to this ward and how it all turned out. I had my head in my hands, praying this would turn out differently.