"Aunt Charlie, do you and Mallie have some time if I stop by there in a bit?" He listened to the phone drop, sighed and waited. His aunt habitually dropped the phone. Everyone knew it. You could either get used to it and wait for her to get back on the line eventually or not bother to call in the first place. He listened to the noises, heard her call back to Mallie only to drop the phone again.
"Jake, honey. Are you there?" She finally asked.
"I am. Would it be better for me to come some other time?"
"No, no. Now is fine. I just needed to make sure Mallie wasn't going out. Is this about our plans?"
"Just give me a minute to get down there. We can talk then. See you in a few minutes." He hung up before she deluged him with a landslide of questions.
Less than five minutes later he was knocking at the door of the Carriage House that sat behind the main house on Marshall Street. Looking around at the property from where he stood he could see the changes they were already making. During his first visit his aunt had proudly shown him the stairway that had been installed on the side porch of the main house that led up to his Aunt Miri's small hideaway room over the porch. No one of his generation had even known the room existed until Aunt Charlie had remembered it. Out of the corner of his eye he saw and sensed a movement. But if it had been anything it was gone when he turned. One of the phone calls that morning had been to one of his publishers. According to him there was still a lot of interest and scuttlebutt surrounding his now completed series on the rogue reporters. There was no other word for them in his mind that could be said out loud in polite company. He'd been cautioned there were still a lot of folks wanting to know where he was and when could they talk to him. Never, if he had anything to say about it. He'd said goodbye to that life some time ago. Had only waltzed in temporarily because of what he'd learned and only then because of the personal impact on lives he held dear. But like his sister he'd be happy if he never saw the inside of a newsroom again. Of any sort. He couldn't believe anyone would bother to track him down here. Couldn't understand why anyone would care at this point. Way too many of those folks had way too much time on their hands being wasted on all the wrong stuff as far as he saw it. And it had been that way for far too long.
"Jake." The door swung open and the woman standing there was his Aunt Charlie from another time. Her hair was piled high on top of her head and only who knew what was holding it up there. She had an apron of sorts tied around her that was splattered every which way with paint. She smelled like paint. Behind her the music boomed off the walls. Good grief, his aunt was listening to Build Me Up Buttercup. And how long had it been since he'd heard The Foundations vibrating out of the speakers. Shaking his head he walked through the doorway wondering what he was letting himself into.
"Come in. Come in." Charlie pulled him in further even as Mallie rushed into the room dressed in a ball-gown from another era. Jake looked closer, corrected himself. From another century and not just the last one. At his questioning look Mallie simply twirled.
"Grandma loves painting old stuff. I love wearing old stuff so it's working out better than when she wanted to paint me like I was still ten and in pigtails."
"I have to say it." He paused, winked at his aunt. "Wow!"
"Come on! It's cool but that's all." Mallie battled against embarrassment even as she felt the blush heat her face.
"I'm not talking about the dress, honey. No wonder your dad's so paranoid and protective. He's got cause to be." He read her concern before she voiced it. "I'm talking your looks, honey, not your business."
"Have you talked with the owner of the rink?" She plopped down in a chair ignoring the impact on the vintage dress that flowed down around her.
"I have. And I have to tell you that is one savvy businessman." He shifted books stacked high on a chair to the table beside it and sat down. "I actually enjoyed talking with him." He hid the smile that threatened as Mallie was very obviously only moments from bouncing up and down in anticipation.
"Jacob."
"Yes, ma'am." He understood exactly and immediately what his aunt's tone implied and demanded. He wondered if all women perfected that mother look. For that matter he wondered if they all read minds. He pulled the carefully folded sheet out of his shirt pocket. "I have here a contract that requires your signatures," he continued talking past Mallie's high pitched scream that would have worried him under any other circumstance. He looked straight at his aunt, at her glowing smile and knew he'd go through everything that he’d had to all over again to make this happen just to see that smile so like his mother's. Then he pulled another paper out that he hoped they'd be just as open to. "I also have something that I'd like the two of you to seriously consider, maybe sleep on, before you give it a yea or nay."
"What did you talk him down to?" Mallie got down to what was the bottom line for her. She took the paper Jake held out. She knew it was excitement that had her hands trembling and wondered at it. Never in her life had something meant so much that it made her hands shake. She skimmed down the page, promising herself that one day she would understand what it all meant without having to ask someone to explain it. But she knew what she was looking for and when she reached the dollar figures she could only stare at the man in front of her.
Jake shrugged. "He's been trying to sell the place off and on for a while. He took it off the market over a year ago. Since we came to him and there's no middle man to speak of to take their cut of the deal, he was more than willing to negotiate."
"I'll say." Was all Charlie could say as she looked at the page her granddaughter shoved in front of her pointing specifically at the middle of the page as if she couldn't find it otherwise.
"He was motivated too by something else I need to talk with you about." Jake wasn't certain why he was nervous about this. It wasn't like he was trying to take advantage but he had taken control. He was used to taking control and the people who knew him knew that. But in this particular situation he wasn't sure how they'd feel about it. "Can we sit down?"
Unlike her grandmother who had picked up on her nephew's nervousness Mallie pulled him into the small kitchen of the Carriage House. Motioned him toward the table where she sat as well and waited for her grandmother to do the same.
Charlie studied her nephew. She’d seen him in many moods. Most had little to do with what she saw now. Worry and apprehension were not part of Jacob Kyle's nature. His disposition had always been one of quiet calm, intense certainty, and spirited determination. The caution she saw in him at her kitchen table worried her. But not for the reasons he would think.
Taking a deep breath, Jake spread out the second paper he'd drawn from his shirt pocket. "In part I was able to talk him down so much because I offered to make it a cash deal." He worked to ignore Mallie's gasp. "This is the partnership agreement that shows we are equal partners. I'd prefer to keep the purchase details private between us."
"Why?"
"I don't know that I can explain it," he answered Mallie honestly. "I've just never been real keen that others know my financial business."
"No. Not that." Mallie felt her head spinning. She hadn't been able to allow herself to believe this would happen. Now it wasn't just happening but it was going to be so it was really going to be a family thing. A family business that no one could exclude her from. Could take away from her. "Why are you doing this for us?"
Jake studied his young cousin. Saw the restrained excitement. Understood the caution. Sensed and commiserated with the pride. "It's more I'm doing it for all of us. He was willing to come down even without a cash deal. But when I threw that out as an option he was really willing to discuss terms. The idea of a quick deal without any bank involvement pushed all the right buttons for him." He looked to his aunt and saw only quiet calm. Pushed on when if he'd been more aware would have seen there was no need. "I can do up a formal loan agreement between us but I thought we'd keep it simple. The partnership agreement is binding," he pushed it to the middle of the table. "I had
Dave do it up for us and email it to me so it's the real thing."
Charlie took the pen from his fumbling fingers, barely glanced at the papers he continued to shift for them to read, and signed her name with a flourish. "I think this is a wonderful thing you're doing, Jacob. Both of us have the money set aside, certainly enough considering how far you were able to get this man to come down."
"I didn't want you to have to deplete your funds. I thought we could start repayment after a year. That would give you the chance to use the funds for anything you want to invest to make it the business you envision than what it is now." He suddenly found his arms full of the young girl who threw herself into them.
"This is so awesome." Mallie couldn't help the tears and rubbed them away with the backs of her hands that crossed behind Jake's neck.
"Yes, well." Jake cleared his throat, not used to such uninhibited displays of anything let alone affection. "In the event that your Dad doesn't take real well to this deal I want you to use your money to get that business degree we talked about before you spend it on anything else."
"Oh, yes. I will. I promise." She hugged him tight again before moving back. Rubbing the palms of her hands across her eyes again unashamedly. She took the pen her grandmother held out to her, signed below her grandmother's spidery old fashioned fancy signature. Noticed with pride that above Jake's signature was the name of their partnership. Three Generations Inc. "Look Grandma. We're Three Generations. Another three like Three Sisters." She referred to the company they were both part of along with Casey, Carrie, Mary, and Grace.
"I saw." And saw more as well. "Mallie, would you go pick up a pizza for us to celebrate this with Jake." She stood to retrieve her purse from the counter to pull her wallet out.
"I've got it, Grandma." Mallie waved at both of them as Jake moved to pull his wallet out. "The least I can do is spring for our celebration pizza." She moved toward the door, completely aware she was being sent on this errand to give her grandmother time for whatever she wanted to say to Jake. "I'll be back before you know it." And then some she decided to herself. If they needed time she was more than willing to give it to them.
Charlie waited until she heard Mallie's car drive away. To give herself a moment to gather her thoughts she pulled the pitcher of tea from the fridge and glasses from the cupboard that still bore the pretty floral papers lining the bottom as it had when she was a child and the upstairs rooms were her own personal playhouse. When they renovated the first floor of the Carriage House into a living area and kitchen she'd requested the cabinets be moved as they were downstairs. Filled with the memories that soothed her and a sense of the future that drove her, she sat back down at the small kitchen table. She felt her nephew's eyes on her the entire time. Looking across the table at him she could see the man, and in that moment remembered the boy. "I know I've already said it but I'm going to say it again. This is a wonderful thing you've done Jacob." She watched his eyes squint then roll, so like his mother's. "I wish you'd tell me why you thought we might think differently."
He sighed, "Many would."
"Perhaps," she agreed, deciding not to comment on who those many might be. "But they aren't family. We are." And in her mind. That was that.
CHAPTER TEN
Jake swung the door open not at all surprised to find Mark on the other side of it. "Come on back." He turned knowing without a doubt his old friend and sometimes nemesis would follow.
Mark closed the door behind him. Out of habit and a life long lived in the big city he locked it as well. He took his time following behind taking in the turn-of-the-last-century molding around the windows and doors. Noted too the scatted pile of papers on the floor next to the old upright piano. They littered the bench sitting in front of it as well. Wasn't that interesting he thought to himself and filed the thought away for some future time He wouldn't know the man could play if it weren't for that last night in Iraq. With bombs falling all around them and no-where to go and no way to get there they'd passed the night in a dingy bar. With no earthly idea if they'd make it through the night they'd swilled beer, there was simply no other way to describe it, and told stories each trying to outdo the other. At some point, after more of the local brew than anyone should be able to consume and still be able to stand, Jake had somehow made it over to the old broken down piano that had been practically hidden away in the corner of the room and played better than many he knew could play cold stone sober. Shaking his head at the memory he continued on back following his old friend's voice.
Jake, now talking on the phone, motioned Mark to the table and set a beer down in front of him. "Just so long as good ole Ollie doesn't realize that we're working up a partnership agreement and not a sales agreement with his most favorite cousin." He listened to the voice on the other end of the phone. "I know. Just let me know what you find out as soon as you find it out." He pulled a beer out for himself. "Thanks, Dave. I really appreciate this and the other."
Mark watched him end the call and gulp down half his beer. "What's the word?"
"Unless Ollie backtracks unexpectedly it looks like we've got ourselves a newspaper." He sat down, glanced at the laptop screen for the email he still hadn't received. "Dave's coming in tomorrow to handle the paper work himself. He's already got the partnership agreement signed by Chase contingent on the deal going through with his much loved twice-removed or whatever cousin."
"They really don't like each other."
"Hell. I'm not even certain they've ever even met each other."
"Some people form judgments on far less than their shared family history."
"That's for certain," Jake agreed easily. "Anyway, if all goes as planned, we will be the new owners of the paper by tomorrow night."
Mark leaned back, thought about the schedule he'd already rescheduled to extend their stay through today. And found he didn't have the concern about rescheduling it again through tomorrow as he would have months, even weeks ago. Without a word he took out his phone and made the necessary phone calls.
Jake watched with no little amount of surprise and didn't bother trying to disguise it. He'd fully expected Mark to give Dave or himself his power of attorney to handle the final transaction so he could get back to the newsroom. He might be leaving the place permanently in a couple of weeks but the man he knew would run the ship like a general until the very last moment let alone the very last day. Listening to him make plans to extend his stay by not one more day but two wasn't at all like him.
"So," he continued his study of his long time friend over his beer. "How do you like Burlington?"
"Enough that we put an offer in on a house less than two hours ago."
"That's quite a bit of liking." He took another sip. "Which one?"
"It's over on that street that runs along the top of Snake Alley." A small smile battled through. "Terry loves it. Loves all the intricate molding she's going to have to dust, the fifty-year-old stove down in the basement she claims will work just fine once it's repaired." He laughed, "I'll stake money that by the time that old dilapidated stove is in safe working order I'd have been able to buy half a dozen brand new ones."
"But she loves it." Jake understood women enough to know sometimes you just went with the flow. He'd seen his old man do it plenty.
"You bet. And that's not all she loves. She loves the thought of being able to walk downtown from there. Loves all the little shops. Loves the park."
"Crapo Park?" Jake interrupted.
"Big place where you can see the river from it seems like anywhere you stand...really old log cabin, big Civil War statue."
"That's it." And there, he thought, was another old and deep connection he hadn't thought of in years since Mary had brought it up recently. "Did you check out the Springs?"
"The what?"
"Blackhawk Springs." He swiveled on his chair and pulled another couple of beers out of the fridge. Made a mental note to hit the store before the next twenty-four hours were up or he'd be exis
ting on water and little else. "You have to hike a bit to reach it. You park where the old cabin is and hike back in that area. There used to be signs."
"You spent a lot of time here."
"Sometimes it felt like we might as well have lived here for as much as we visited." He didn't want to go too much farther down that route. And he recognized the look in Mark's eyes for what it was. "What made you decide to come here let alone settle down in a permanent way? It's not exactly your slice of life."
Mark accepted the change of subject for what it was. Leaned back in the chair and wondered how to answer when he wasn't quite sure yet exactly how it had happened himself. Sighing, "Your sister probably started the ball rolling."
"Casey?" He would have choked on the beer if he hadn't already swallowed it.
"You got any others I don't know about." He took a sip and let it slide down his dry throat. He had never done humble well. "When I came to see her a couple of months ago she pretty much told me flat out that friends didn't treat friends the way I had her." He looked at Jake cautiously over his beer. They were all grown but family was just that. "She made me see things a different way. And when I looked at it, really looked at it, believe me, it was not an easy thing to admit that she was right." He reached into the bag of chips that had found their way to the middle of the table. "Your cousin put her two cents in as well, more of a professional hit than the personal one Casey lobbed my way, but a direct hit as well." He rolled his shoulders, wondered what his wife was doing up the street with Casey and whoever else had gathered in that little kitchen that seemed to attract people like honey did flies. They'd invited him to come in but he'd been around when a roomful of women got together. The chatter never stopped.
Retreat to Woodhaven (The Hills of Burlington Book 2) Page 16
