by Matthew Nuth
To embrace the evening and the event, the three ordered a plate of cheeses and olives along with a wonderful selection of cured prosciutto and a salami called tartufo. They had never had prosciutto before; it was delicious. To be daring, they also ordered a dish to share of antipasto di octopus. It was left largely untouched by Paul and Sam. They found the chewy texture, fishy taste off-putting. Even though William was equally repulsed by the texture, he gamely choked down what Sam and Paul had left, not wanting to waste such an expensive plate of food no matter the taste. He was thankful when the waiter materialized at his side to refill his wine glass.
Holding his glass out over the table and high above his head, William spurted out loudly, “To the future parents.”
Sam looked sheepishly around as she picked up glass “Shhhh, William, we want to surprise Mom and Dad. Someone might hear and spoil the news.”
To that, Paul raised his glass, too and yelled, “To the expectant mom and my future baby” If someone in Nino’s that night knew the Simmons family, the secret was now history. They all laughed.
“So, William, you said you had some news, something you’ve been busting a gut to share all night. What gives?”
“So maybe not as exciting as being pregnant, but huge in my life. I am moving out of Mom and Dad’s house.”
“What? Really? Where are you going?
“Well, rumor has it there are some real nice homes being built on the south end of town. Hell, I even might know the guys that are building them.” At that he stopped to let it sink in to Paul and Sam. “I am buying a house on Yale Court, just about halfway down the street, on the right. It should be completed by the end of next month.”
“Now I know why you have been such a tight wad the last few months. Saving, saving, saving. Good for you and congratulations, too.”
“So, you want some ideas on colors, William?” Sam asked.
“Too late. Arlin already pulled together a color pallet that looks great . . . and is all man. Hell, Sam, if you picked the colors the house would look great, but women would think I was ready to settle down and get married! Can’t have that, can we? Okay, big brother, that is my news, what’s your big news?”
To that, Paul, merely said, “Geez, I can’t remember, but whatever it was, it cannot compare to you guys.” Paul made a mental note to drop by the campus on the way to breakfast with William tomorrow morning to withdraw from the fall session.
Chapter 14
Business had been good to Simmons & Sons in 1953, very good and they planned on 1954 being every bit as exceptional. They had the three model homes available to prospective customers by mid-August in 1953, and the interest had been better than expected. Joe Klein had successfully opened his sales office in the first model home’s finished garage, essentially providing him a second location for his realty business, rent free.
By the end of the calendar year, Simmons & Sons had completed and sold their first five homes and had an additional five in the queue at various levels of completion. The plan was for William to build to a forecast using a pre-defined model layout to ensure the neighborhood would maintain some diversity in houses. Prospective customers would order their preferred model on a first-come, first-served basis, picking from the allotted plots allocated to their model of choice. Once their desired model was sold out, it would not be available until the next phase of construction.
Arlin had suggested they define phases by street, selling out the majority of one phase, or street, before beginning the next. Based on this process, each phase would constitute between 30 and 35 homes. One of their largest concerns centered on the risk of having one model being substantially less popular than the remaining models, stranding unsold, unfinished models from a prior phase.
The concern had been unfounded. Demand had exceeded their expectations. Instead the risk now centered around their underestimate of the popularity of the two-stall garage option. So far, they had been successful in selling the step up from the standard single stall garage to the optional two stall version to roughly a third of the customers; however, Joe Klein had stressed they could have easily moved this ratio to two thirds of the homebuyers if the inventory and been planned. The profit potential was huge. For houses ranging in standard price from $19,900 to $21,950, the additional option price of $1,495 was extremely profitable, especially when considering they had estimated the incremental cost at less than $700 per home. Paul and William had decided to double the allocation of two stall garage homes for the rest the first phase. They would reevaluate the allocation before starting the next two phases of construction.
By the end of 1953, Simmons & Sons had expended almost a quarter of a million dollars, but had exited the year at a positive cash generation pace that would begin paying back a substantial portion of their bank loans. At year-end, they had conserved enough cash to complete three of the five homes currently under construction while breaking ground for an additional three units. In total, they still owed the bank $150,000, spread over three separate loans. Virginia’s business projections showed that they should be able to reduce this amount by almost half in 1954; 1955 would be gravy and position them well for their next development.
Now the company could finally begin paying themselves a real salary. Arlin remained their lowest salaried employee at $4,500 per year, but at a time when the national average for household income was only $4,100, he was thrilled and thankful to the Simmons family. For Virginia and Lyle, they had elected to forego a share of the profits for a more attractive salary. The two of them were pulling in more than $11,000; an income that would now let them put aside some significant savings for their retirement.
* * *
I flipped through the next several sheets of paper in my lap to get to a folder titled merely, “The Mattsons.” I had never heard the name come up in discussions so I opened the folder and dug in. The first sheet was a carbon-copy typewritten sheet with notations in the margins in Dad’s telltale hand.
Mr. and Mrs. Richard Mattson
1231 N Harvard
Fort Collins, Colorado 90523
September 12, 1953
Dear Mr. and Mrs. Richard Mattson:
It is unfortunate to hear that as a result of the recent layoff at Johnson Hydraulics, Richard has lost his position. We at Simmons & Sons certainly hope you are successful in your efforts to find a suitable new position. We will certainly be on the lookout for positions on your behalf.
That said, we will not be in a position to return you the $3,500.00 you provided as the down payment on 1514 Yale Court. The contract in force provides no contingencies and specifically states you have already established funding to fulfill on your obligations to complete the real estate transaction. As such, the down payment was specifically defined in the contract terms as ‘non-refundable, contingent upon the satisfactory performance of Simmons & Sons in compliance with contractual terms.
Please note your removal of the normal and customary financing contingency was instrumental in my company’s acceptance of your offer reflecting a full 5% discount in the purchase price. As such the purchase price was reduced from our standard $21,950.00 to $20,850.00. In good faith, we have completed the home to your specified trim selection, flooring, and color pallet. I trust you will fulfill on your obligations in support of the scheduled closing date of September 24, 1954.
If this continues to present an issue or if you intend not to fulfill on your obligations, please notify us through return mail as soon as possible so that we might refer this to our attorney for resolution.
Regards,
Latimer Simmons, Simmons & Sons
Latimer was Grandad and a name I had rarely heard over the years. He had died early in my life and I really had only fleeting recollections of him. As a kid, Latimer had been an outdated name for an outdated man. I preferred Grandad.
In the margins, Dad had made notes that had included the cost implications to po
tentially repaint the exterior of the home and replace the kitchen countertops, presumably to address the preferences of an alternative buyer if the sale ultimately fell through. In addition, Dad’s notes stated that it was likely we were going to have to resell this property and layoffs at Johnson Hydraulics might result in some required belt-tightening and reduced demand for their existing home inventory. Growing up, I can recall Dad stating Johnson Hydraulics was one of the top three employers in town. That had been a long time ago.
* * *
“Paul, we just cannot afford it now. I am likely going to have to leave town just to get a job. Right now, jobs are tough to find. I’ve heard rumors of a company out of California may be starting up in Loveland, but that would be such a long drive and even that is still a pipe dream if that comes through. We just can’t afford to go through with the new house. You have to get your Dad to give us a break,” Richard pleaded. Mrs. Mattson just sat quietly next to her husband.
Paul had rehearsed this confrontation a number of times over the past couple of days. He and his Dad had agreed that they would not, could not refund the entirety of the Mattson’s down payment. A contract was a contract and, hell Richard had driven a tough bargain. They had ultimately settled on a price well below what the rest of the homes were selling for. The reason for the lowered price? Well, Paul had to agree he had come to respect Richard and his moxie through the negotiation process, and Richard’s final offer to remove the financing condition cinching the deal. Plus, after a month of the Mattson’s touring the models and pestering Klein’s agents, he had been happy just to get their “John Hancock’s” on a piece of paper. Joe would still need to hash it out with his agents to determine an equitable way to split the commission; the Mattson’s had developed separate relations with the two agents and Joe Klein’s son.
The rehearsal had not helped Paul to feel comfortable going into the conversation. The plan was to stick to the “no refund” 100% and when the discussion began to escalate, he would offer to look at a compromise deal based on the actual cost, labor and materials, for Simmons & Sons to repaint the house and make flooring and countertop changes inside. Of course, he would have to “convince” his Dad to accept the compromise.
Although the likelihood that having the sale fall through actually resulting in changes being required was highly unlikely, Paul and his Dad had agreed they might as well ensure these were funded, just in case. In reality, they would make out much better if the deal fell through. Not only would they end up keeping all, or at least the lion’s share, of the down payment, they would also likely resell the house for an additional eleven hundred bucks. For all intents, the deal falling through meant they would get substantially more profit from the home than they had already budgeted for.
Paul’s negotiation discomfort was not founded in a concern that he could not prevail. Hell, they had a contract and they were fully within their legal rights not to provide a dime back. They had completed the house, the Mattsons had completed their walk through, the certificate of occupancy was all there was left to complete the Simmons & Sons obligation and it was in process and was to be delivered the following day. No, the issue Paul wrestled with was that it just did not feel right. He was being dishonest and he knew it. A good Christian should be concerned for their brother and sister more than for their pocket book.
In his own mind, Paul had needed to justify his actions based on the potential that the market might nose dive, making the sale of their existing inventory tough. The layoff at Johnson Hydraulics was just an omen of tough times ahead. In reality, he could not even fool himself; everything in town looked to be on the upbeat. The town had even revised their council structure to accommodate the future anticipated growth. There were already rumors circulating in the Chamber of Commerce regarding two major corporations, one from New York and one from California, looking to establish major greenfield manufacturing in town or just outside the city limits. If true, Simmons & Sons would have no issues selling out their last phase of their current development and the proposed larger development even farther to the south. Certainly, he felt if he ever needed to try out his justification for not returning 100% of the down payment with Sam, he knew it would never fly. Let’s face it, he had just gotten greedy.
“Richard, Mary, you know I would like to refund the down payment,” he lied, “but times are tough and I see no way to do it, especially since we have already installed the living room carpeting, and the linoleum. All the color choices have been yours. I have no doubt they look wonderful, but it is highly unlikely someone else would choose them. We would have to replace the flooring and repaint. We might need to replace countertops and it would all just delay selling the house longer . . . and that is expensive.” Paul stopped to let the Mattsons take in the argument. Although he expected them to come back with some retort discounting everything he had said, he now realized Richard’s layoff had taken all the salt out of him. He had no fight left.
Richard and Mary Mattson looked to each other, Mary’s cheeks lined from tears. They quietly rose from their chairs and shuffled out the office door. Why should winning make Paul feel so shitty.
Paul would never see Richard Mattson again.
* * *
I, woke with a start. Across the table sat Uncle Bill with a newspaper in hand. Next to Uncle Bill sat Bob, the nurse, wolfing down a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon. Mom was at the stove frying up some more bacon and a couple eggs that would soon be flipped over easy.
“So how long did you stay awake last night, Bright Eyes?” asked Uncle Bill.
“God knows. I don’t recall what time it was. I just started digging into a folder” I nodded toward the folder now lying horizontally across the corner of the plastic storage tub, “and I don’t recall much after that. That’s until now. Oh, my God, my neck is so stiff.”
Mom flipped the eggs and turned with an empty plate in hand. “I’m surprised you didn’t fall over in the night. I found you splayed back with your feet up on Bob’s chair. Your chin was resting on your chest. Randall, you looked so uncomfortable. By the way, eggs over easy or over hard?”
“Just like they are, Mom, will be fine.” Mom slid the eggs from the pan to the plate like an experienced short order cook and handed the plate to me.
“Bacon and toast are almost ready” she said.
“Sam if you have an extra slice of toast and some bacon, that would great.” Said Uncle Bill with his eyes just barely peeping over the top of the business section.
“Mom, this folder about the Mattson’s? You know anything about them?”
“Randall, that was a long time ago and so out of character for your Dad. Don’t hold it against him. I don’t think your Dad ever got over the guilt of Richard killing himself. It was so terrible. One day everything was great, and the Mattsons were planning to move into the house next door to your Uncle Bill. The next day Richard is laid off, the following day he shoots himself with a pistol. So sad.”
Mom sat down at the table after pouring herself a cup of coffee. “You know that was just before we had Cal. Quite frankly if it had not been for your brother being so young, I probably would have divorced your Dad right then and there.” Then she smiled, “I wasn’t too happy with Grandad either.
“I could not believe that they would not give the Mattson’s money back. We would have made do just fine, but they got way too caught up in being the big guys in town. They got a big shot of ego that overwhelmed their humility and humanity. I guess if there was one thing good that came from the Mattson’s loss was Dad’s heart. I cannot recall him losing his way like that again.”
“Wow, I didn’t know. Sorry to dredge up that old memory.” Then I continued, “You have any idea whatever happened to Mrs. Mattson?”
“Actually, I don’t. You know your Dad would look for her occasionally over the years to say he was sorry, but I think he just finally gave up.” With that, Mom hopped up and scurri
ed back to the stove. “I hope you men like your bacon crispy. I let it get over done.”
Picking up Dad’s Blue book and flipping through to pages I had yet to read; in pencil . . .
Mrs. Mattson, I am so sorry about Richard. I know you cannot forgive me today, but maybe someday you will find a way in your heart to see me in a different light, better light than I deserve. I don’t know how to make it up to you.
Then in blue ball point ink, another entry . . .
I guess Mary is better today; so am I. Paid in full, $10,000. January 3, 1963
“You know, Mom, I think he found Mary Mattson just after I was born.”
Mom turned and looked to me, eyes questioning.
Chapter 15
Cal was born on the 3rd day of November, 1953. It had not been quite the surprising event Paul had expected. Sam had actually started experiencing labor early in the evening right after dinner. They had debated staying at home, since her water had not yet broken. Being the level-headed parents-to-be they envisioned themselves as, they elected to calmly load themselves into their Ford, drive the two miles of snow crusted streets to the hospital, and check Sam in for the night.
Initially, the nurse that had greeted them at the door was inclined to send the straight back home until Sam doubled over with the pain of a contraction, one of her strongest, yet. At that, the nurse retreated to the hall behind the admissions counter, snagged a wheelchair and returned. Once she had Sam comfortably positioned in the chair, she began to push Sam into the hallway, turning her head to Paul as she walked, “You will have some paper work to fill out at the admissions desk. I will be right back after I get your wife . . . she is your wife, right? . . . to the maternity ward.”
At the ripe old age of 28 and having lived in Fort Collins the majority of his life, this was the first time Paul could remember being in the Larimer County Hospital. It was so bright and smelled antiseptic. He wondered how the doctors and nurses worked here. There was no color, no fresh smells, just the footfall noise of soft-soled shoes slapping against the monochrome gray, cold linoleum, square tile floors. It struck Paul as odd and ironic that a place that had been made specifically to provide care to humans would be so lacking in human qualities. He could not wait to get his wife and child back home and out of here. He was starting to wish he and Sam had just decided to spend the night at home in their apartment.
