Chapter 18

Mr. Sorensen followed us to Pentwater. We unloaded our bikes and stored them in the boathouse and then he walked down to the Rhodes with us.

"How do you plan to get her home?" Grace asked.

"I thought I might beg a crew ... are you interested?" he asked.

"What do you think, daddy?" I asked, "Could we go?"

Daddy had walked up behind us as Niels was taking in the sheer size of the Rhodes. It's not as big as some ... but most of those are found in Greece, New York or San Francisco. It was damn big for the Lakes and there was a class of five if he felt the need to pit his skills against others of his ilk; millionaire Packing Barons, Rail executives, Real Estate developers.

"I don't see why not, how will you get home?" Daddy asked.

While Grace and I were discussing options, Daddy put out his hand, "Niels?"

"Charles! Charles Bergqvist!" They hugged like old soldiers do.

"No more Bergqvist, please. Austin ... and, please ... do not ... Official Secrets Act. Ok?" Then he broke into a language with lots of gutturals, glottal stops and spitting. Soon they were sitting in the salon with their heads together and their hands flying.

Grace and I were forgotten. Which was Ok...

"Official Secrets Act?" Grace whispered.

I raised my eyebrows and shrugged my shoulders, "Bergqvist?"

Neither life had anything like this, Daddy was 4F, worked at Melling Drop Forge at night and lawyered during the day ... or so he said.

Or so he said!

What the fuck?

"Grace, David. Antler! Lunch! Wendy Burgers!" Daddy hollered from the salon, "Take off!"

Grace said, "Race ya!" and was three strides away from the gangway and running like a doe in hunting season before I got untangled from the blanket she tossed on me. I couldn't have caught her if I'd tried ... not that I wanted to ... Grace in white cotton biking shorts? Run in front of that? Not on your life.

One year had made significant changes in Grace's architectural design ... and I appreciated it! Maybe I appreciated it a little too much. 'Sister, David. She's your sister, ' said the brain. 'Maybe you can catch her in the shower, ' suggested another part.

She was full tilt boogie when she hit the door and I was right behind her, "Ten Wendy burgers, Ernie," she shouted as she ran straight to the back, "Hi Frank," she yelled and I heard the bathroom door slam. Rats. But ... I'm a guy ... I can hold it.

In 1955, there was only one bathroom and it was through the kitchen. Germs were a way of life ... everybody had them. I heard the flush, and the sink ... the roller towel... "Frank! Get in here and change this towel! It's positively black!" Grace yelled.

Frank looked at me, pointed at a pile of laundered roller towels and jerked his head at the head. I grabbed one ... it was medium grey ... good enough. "Grace, I'm coming in!" I said.

Between us, we figured out how to change the towel ... by this time I was bouncing. Grace didn't look like she was leaving any time soon ... so...

"Can I steer?" she whispered in my ear.

"WHAT?!?" I peed on the seat.

"Shssh. I wanna see it."