“She frames them and gives them away as presents.”
“They’re beautiful. I love orchids. She does a great job.”
“Really? You love orchids? I had no idea.”
I punched him. My fourteen favorite orchids were lined up in my bedroom window. I had also taken three lesser ones and put them in Mark’s apartment. I collected orchids and had always been fascinated by their pollination and propagation.
“I’ve had that one orchid for seven years,” I said. “Seven. I’ve had it bloom every year. Every. Year.”
“I get it. I get it. You like your flowers.” He waved me off. “Have you ever painted them?” He studied the picture on the table that was in the process of being framed.
“No. I don’t have the time. I’m focusing on my writing. If I didn’t do so much writing, then I wouldn’t be able to live on my own.”
Mark looked at me sharply and I read his mind: You can live with me.
“And I don’t need an apartment with a view of the Lake to be happy. Or a mansion on the Lake. Or a giant house in the suburbs. I just need a place to write and a place to sleep.”
“And a place to eat,” Mark added. “And a place to get library books.” He put up a second finger. “Hey! Let’s go look at the library.”
Noooo. Could this house be any more perfect? Lake access. Pier out into the Lake. Small orchard off to the side with apple, pear and peach trees. Three rows of grapes for a small vineyard. Small English garden with a perfectly trimmed hedge. The party area between the house and the Lake. All the bedrooms for family. This craft room.
Mark dragged me into the library.
“Wow,” I said again. “So this is what’s in the tower.” The library was in an octagon-shaped room on the opposite wing from the guest rooms. The walls were 12 feet high and covered in bookshelves overflowing with books.
“Grandpa claimed the second floor of the tower as his personal space off the master bedroom. But directly above that is the kids’ room. I have to show you the kids’ room. I spent a ton of time up there when I was younger.”
“Like last year?”
“Fuck you.” He swatted me. “You should show my grandma your books. She’ll add them to her collection.”
I blushed. “I don’t think so.”
“I know she would. Let me bring it up tomorrow before we leave. She’d love to buy a few copies. She always supports local artists.” Mark was sure of himself, but I was embarrassed just at the idea.
I absolutely believed in my work and in my talent as a writer, but for some reason it was difficult for me to sell it. I didn’t want to have family members fawn over it. I wasn’t the next JK Rowling or James Patterson—and I didn’t want Mark to talk about me like I was something I wasn’t.
He took me up to the kids’ room, which was actually a kids’ living area. The third floor above the master wing had much shorter ceilings than the rest of the mansion. Therefore, the third floor was a kids’ area with multiple dormers and hidden nooks filled with toys and games.
Mark led me through a narrow hall with slanted ceilings and we made it to the third floor of the tower. You could see everything from that room. It didn’t have a perfect view of the Lake, but you could see the entire south side of the estate. The trees, the lawn... part of the shoreline. You couldn’t see the marina, which was on the north side of the house.
“This is beautiful. This house is absolutely a dream.”
“Yeah, it is. We can sleep up here tonight, if you want.”
“What? Don’t you want to sleep in a bed?”
“You’ll get a better sunrise from up here.”
“You’re never up that early.”
He kissed me and we sat in that tower room watching the wind move the leaves and the whitecaps rolling on the distant waters.
“What is that?” I asked, looking at the ladder near the door into the tower room. “Is there something above this?”
“Why don’t you look?” he said smartly.
I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t disguise my curiosity. Then I climbed the ladder—it was unlike any ladder I had ever seen. It was locked in place, made of solid oak wood, and was almost like a compressed staircase. Where am I going? It led through a trapdoor and into a small, square room with two chairs. There was a picture-frame-like window with perfect view of the Lake. The treetops were below us and we could see the lakeshore from north to south.
“What is this room used for? What’s with the ladder?”
“This is the Banging Room,” Mark said, grabbing me and pinning me against the window. “Good thing I packed lube.”
I slapped his hands and tried to squirm away. I could see his family down below. “Your whole family is here! What if your nephew or niece comes in the playroom and sees us?”
“Sees us playing?” He pounded his hardening cock into the cleft of my jeans.
“Does everyone in your family have a ‘Banging Room’? Is it a rich people thing?”
“Haha,” he laughed and pulled away from me. “I was just kidding. I saw you looking so fucking sexy and I couldn’t resist. I know you don’t like to have sex in new places.” Damn straight! “And since you asked, Grandma’s sex room is in the basement.”
“Ew!”
“Ew,” he mocked. We made out while he pressed me into the window.
Some time later, we strolled out to the patio hand in hand. I found a seat next to his mother and sister.
“Did you get all your work done?” Martha asked.
“Enough for one day. I’ll have plenty to do tomorrow and the next day and the next. This book isn’t going to finish itself.”
“Feel free to stay here as long as you need,” Grandma Wolff offered. “We have plenty of room. I love that someone is using the reading nook. I fought for that in the design, but these old bones rarely go up the stairs nowadays. We’ve moved into the lower master wing.”
Two master bedrooms?
“What’s on the second floor? Is it empty?”
“That’s our old rooms. It has a sitting room and two large closets and an antechamber for seeing guests. My goodness, I was so fond of my sitting rooms when we designed this place.”
“I remember when you built this,” Martha said fondly. “I was pregnant with Kelly.”
“We were starting with the first batch of grandchildren at the time,” Grandma Wolff reminisced. “I wanted a place that could fit my whole family, especially since so many were out of state during that particular decade. Now it’s not so hard. Richie moved back. Everyone is within a car ride of me now. But it wasn’t like that back then.”
“My family is the same way,” I offered, rather naïvely. My family couldn’t compare to the Wolffs... it would have been like the moon trying to compete with the sun. “My dad had eight brothers and sisters so I have a lot of cousins. Every year we pile into my grandparents’ house... kind of like this.” I laughed weakly, feeling dumb.
Luckily, Martha and Grandma Wolff laughed. Melanie was stoic. Mark was in a good mood, but he was almost always in a good mood and smiling.
“I’d like to see that,” Mark murmured softly at my side. I smiled at him and said nothing.
Kelly and Denise joined us. Apparently Mark and I were at the ‘women’s table’. At one point I heard Martha make the comment that Melanie was in a bad mood. That pricked my ears and I strained to hear the rest of that conversation.
We moved off the porch, but not before Grandma Wolff once again offered me an indefinite stay in their castle.
Mark and I wandered to the ‘marina’, where the men were gathered around the powerboat and getting it ready to take the kids out for a sunset ride. Caleb called for us to join them and soon we were on the jet boat with Mark’s father and nieces and nephews. Mark’s grandfather took the rest of the crew on the larger powerboat.
We jetted around the Lake close to the shore. The wind was out of the west so the waves were small near the shoreline, but they got bigger the farther out yo
u went. It was too choppy to really unleash the motors. We parked and watched the sun sink behind the trees and the sky melt from golden hues to rosy pinks to twilight indigos. There weren’t enough clouds in the sky to make it a truly remarkable sunset.
We turned back to the marina and passed the other boat like it was standing still. The kids waved to the family in the other boat. Mr. Wolff docked the boat without much trouble. I hopped onto the dock and handed Mark the ropes.
Caleb was very impressed with how I jumped off to grab the boat.
“You can’t do that,” Mark said while holding back his nephew. “Only big guys can do that.”
“Yeah,” Caleb agreed.
We waited for the other boat to dock. I helped them tie off as well. I had been on boats since birth—my grandparents couldn’t make it to the hospital when I was born because they were out fishing on their boat. I came from a boating family. You always got up and helped tie off whoever was docking.
I guided Mark’s sisters off and we all walked back to the house to settle in for the fireworks display.
“Chris is a bad influence on your son,” Mark said to Denise. “He jumped off the boat while Dad was docking.”
“I didn’t even think about the kids. I’ve done that for years. It’s second nature for me.”
“Your parents have a boat?” Mark asked, surprised.
“Yep. And my grandparents. Antique Chris-Crafts that they restored themselves. They go to shows and everything.”
“Wow. On the Lake or on an inland lake?”
“On the Lake. About half an hour closer to Chicago. We passed the marina on the way up.”
“You didn’t mention it. Coulda showed me.”
I didn’t show you because either my parents would have been there, or my grandparents, or one of the boaters who know me. Word would have gotten back to my family in some way and, in case you’ve already forgotten, my parents think I’m still in the city.
Uncle Rick started the fireworks along with his son and Kelly’s husband. It was an impressive display. Everything about the Wolffs was impressive. I had never experienced this kind of casual wealth before. Of course they had a yacht. Of course they put on their own fireworks. It was all too much, which made it so easy to lean against my man and let the booms and blasts knock my worries away. The weather was cool and Mark was warm. His arm was around me. I felt comforted by his presence and the acceptance from his family. Sure, I had gotten knocked out of sorts at the beginning of the party, but then I cooled off and recovered nicely.
Mark made sure we had plenty of alone time so I could recharge my batteries and sort out my thoughts.
The fireworks ended and Uncle Rick called up from the pier. We clapped gratefully. The kids got carted off to the kid rooms on the third floor. Mark and I stayed out by the fire and huddled next to each other on a skinny bench. His hand kept trying to discreetly find my dick and I discreetly told him to fuck off.
We retired early, citing a long day of work, then showered the fire smells away and jumped in the strange bed. The room was small, but bigger than what I had in my apartment.
“This is bigger than the room you’re renting,” Mark said.
“No it isn’t.”
“Did you bring your change of sheets?”
“No.” I pulled out the pillowcase. “I don’t need to take my sheets, but I do need a safe place to put my head.”
“As long as I’m next to you, your head will always have a safe space.” Mark was proud of himself for saying that.
“You’re a fucking dunce.”
“Love you, too.”
We fell asleep naked and spooned tightly together with Mark breathing on my neck like a dragon. I wondered if I could get away with waking him up for the sunrise... at seven thirty. I wondered if his hand would be cupping my balls when I woke up... like it sometimes did.
I wondered how it was that I wasn’t already asleep... or maybe I was asleep and this was all a dream?
Mr. Wolff
I woke up before sunrise on that beautiful Sunday morning and slipped out of Mark’s arms. He didn’t budge. The room was cool because Mark had left the window open.
I slid into my underwear, shorts and sweats, put my coat over my long-sleeve shirt, and padded out of the room. The door shut with a soft click. I had my typing bag with me and knew exactly where I wanted to watch the sunrise—from the pier, which jutted into the Lake and faced east.
I snuck a bottled water and a banana out of the kitchen. Then I opened the patio door and was blasted with the cool, fall morning fog. It felt delicious. I loved cool weather. There was something about a cool morning that was undeniably invigorating. Cool morning runs. Cool mornings under the covers with the windows open.
I hated when an air conditioner made a room too cold, but if there was a natural breeze carrying the smells from the countryside... I would be in blissful, frigid heaven. And the Lake didn’t smell like rotten fish for once, so that was a bonus, too.
I pulled up my hood to fend off the mosquitos. I had noticed the mosquito-repellant plants in the landscaping when Mark showed me the grounds yesterday, but they only helped so much.
As I got farther away from the light in the house, I saw a figure in one of the chairs at the base of the pier. It was Grandpa Wolff. I didn’t know whether or not to interrupt his vigil.
The decision was taken out of my hands. Grandpa Wolff heard me stop walking and cocked his head in my direction. The dawn was rapidly approaching and I could see him quite clearly once my eyes adjusted, even with the fog and the low light. He raised his hand for me to come sit with him.
“Morning, Mr. Wolff.” I didn’t want to call him ‘Grandpa’.
“Morning, Chris. You’re up early.”
“You too.” I stood behind the empty chair at his side. The morning was lighter now that I was beyond the trees and had an unobstructed view of the Lake.
“I always have these chairs on the end of the pier. Would you help me move them?”
“Sure.” They had been moved last night to make room for the fireworks. I picked up the front of the chair by bending over and he took the back so he could carry it while standing up. There were cracks in the pavement every four feet which led to uneven footing. I was nervous that Mr. Wolff was going to twist his ankle.
We set the first chair down in its usual spot (I could see the old markings and the locking mechanism). Then we retrieved the second chair. By the time we were done, the sun was nearly over the edge of the Lake and the sky was red. The low-hanging clouds in the distance blushed beautifully. We sat in silence and watched the sunrise. I would have set up my typing stuff, but that wouldn’t have been considerate with Grandpa Wolff sitting there and peacefully staring out over the water. It felt like I was intruding on his silence so I was tempted to walk back to the patio, but I couldn’t figure out how to leave without making up an obviously false excuse, so I stayed rooted to my chair.
The first bright ray of sunlight broke over the horizon and ricocheted off the water. It was unspeakably beautiful. It was difficult to comprehend that some people could experience this beauty every morning.
“I’m very happy to have met you, Chris,” Grandpa Wolff said, after the sun got too bright to look at. “You are a very nice young man.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“I can’t say that I knew what to expect from my grandson, but he’s done well with you... and I’m proud of him.”
I didn’t know what to say. Thank you? “He’s told me about how he loved to come here when he was a kid.”
“Yes. He did always love it here. He would hide in the upper floors when it was time to leave. He always was a headstrong boy.”
That last sentence led to a long minute of silence during which I debated whether or not to take a cold bath in the Lake. I felt emotionally on edge and couldn’t explain why. My mother was a master of the backhanded compliment—Grandpa Wolff wasn’t using her superb technique, but it was something similar. I c
ould sense a darkness under the surface of his words, but had no context for his subtext.
“This is an amazing place,” I said, after squinting at the sunrise again.
“It is. My wife has always been a homebody. I told her to build a summer home on this property, but she said she would have one home and that was it. So here we are.”
“I love your boats,” I said. What else is there to talk about?
“You seem quite at ease hopping around the deck. I hear you are a sailor.”
I laughed. “Not exactly. I’ve always been a wooden boat guy. My dad rebuilt our Chris-Craft and before that he helped my grandpa rebuild his.”
“Ah. A pity. I would keep my sailboat here if my port was deep enough. But I don’t want it to get stuck in the mud.”
I nodded.
“Maybe someday I’ll take you out for a proper sail. The end of the pier is deep enough for docking. If the wind is blowing right, we could go clear to downtown Chicago if you like. Make a weekend out of it.”
“Sounds good,” I said. I tried not to be flippant, but it was hard not to sound jaded. Of course he had a sailboat. Of course we could just sail up the coast to Mark’s park and walk up to his lakeside apartment.
“So Mark told you about coming here as a kid. Did he tell you about his later years... in high school?”
“No.”
“They used to live about ten minutes away—my son and his family. We all went to the same church. This was before they moved closer to Minneapolis.” I indicated that I understood the relationship. Grandpa Wolff seemed to be in a full confessional mood. “I’m afraid that I’m the reason Mark hates his father. My son’s attitude has rubbed off on me, too. And my wife, which breaks her heart.”
I was confused and Grandpa Wolff didn’t explain. “I don’t understand,” I said.
“I recommended... I was so embarrassed, you see. I’m a deacon after all, and Mark was the first child or grandchild in my family to truly break the rules. I was angry—unnaturally angry. I’ve come a long way since then, and I would handle it differently now.”
“Right,” I said, still mystified.
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