by Shawn Inmon
“Can you check it in the paper for me?” I already did, but it will be better if you do it for yourself.
Wallace opened the financial section to the back pages, then searched the rows of tiny print. “Hmph. $27.52. That’s more than it was back then, isn’t it?”
Veronica walked into the kitchen, pulled an envelope and a pad of paper out of her mother’s desk and wrote out some calculations. She walked back into the den and handed the envelope to Wallace.
He opened it and muttered, “$7.62 a share.” A small cloud of regret passed over him.
“They got some pretty lucrative defense contracts.” Veronica turned the paper with her calculations on it to Wallace. If we had put $1,000 into it in April, we would have been able to buy one hundred and thirty-one shares. Right now, those same shares would be worth a little over $3,600. Not enough to retire on, but we’d sure be ahead of the game.”
“How did you know about this? What made you pick this stock?”
“I think I’ve got a knack for it. I’m not saying I can pick a winner every time. No one can do that, but if even half my hunches turn out like this, it would be good.”
“I’d say so, yes.”
“I’d like to invest my own money into another stock I have my eye on. But, no one wants to deal with a young girl on something like this. I need someone to help me. You and Mom are the only ones I trust enough to do it.”
“To do what?” Doris said, wiping her hands on a dish towel as she came into the den.
Wallace looked at Doris. “Ronnie’s been wanting to invest some of her money in the stock market.”
“What? Oh no, that’s foolishness. It’s perfectly safe in the bank, and it’s earning compound interest.”
“Right, but it’s not earning me three hundred percent per year,” Veronica said.
Wallace held up his hand, warning her off, then turned his attention to Doris. He looked a little guilty. “Ronnie’s been interested in this for quite a while. She told me about it before she graduated. I told her she could pick one stock then, and if it did well, we could talk about it more.” He handed the envelope with the clipping in it to Doris. “This is the stock she picked.”
Doris took it, put her reading glasses on, and said, “All right. So?”
He gestured her over with the newspaper. “Look here.” He pointed to a line of agate type. “Same stock, eight months later.”
“So what does that mean?”
“It means that if I had let her invest in the stock when she wanted to, she would have made more than triple her money back. Oh, there would have been some commissions paid, and taxes, but she still would have done very well.”
“I see.”
Veronica stood a few feet away, watching the conversation like it was a tennis match.
“I told her in April that if that stock did well by the end of the year, I would help her invest some of her savings.”
Wallace turned to Veronica with an innocent look on his face.
Why, Dad, you old liar. Good for you.
Doris looked from Wallace to Veronica, narrowing her eyes.
She can tell something’s going on here, but she can’t quite put her finger on it. She’s never seen Dad and I team up like this before, and she doesn’t like it.
After a moment’s thought, Doris nodded. “I don’t want to see you risking all your money on some foolish scheme. I know you are working and earning your own money, but I’m still your mother, and it’s my job to look out for you. How much money do you have in your savings account?”
“One thousand, twenty-two dollars and fifty-one cents.” I know you like precision. Mom, and I love you for it.
Doris fixed Wallace with something between a stare and a glare—leaning more toward the glare. “I don’t know why you agree to foolishness like this. All right, I’ll agree that you can take half your savings out and risk it, but no more.” The glare intensified. “But Wallace, if you take one dollar out of our own savings, we’ll have a talk.”
“Sure, honey. I agree.”
Better than nothing. It’s a start.
Chapter Forty-One
The next four years were happy ones for Veronica and her family. There were no crises, no bad marriages, and no car accidents. The greatest tragedy was that Barbara got the measles in May of 1963, which meant she wasn’t able to walk with her class to get her diploma. Measles were still a dangerous disease during this era. More than twice as many children and young adults died from measles than polio, but the worst Barbara got was some minor scarring that was soon forgotten.
Veronica’s stock pick of 1959—Generra Oil—outperformed Amalgamated Plastic by a factor of three. Her initial $500 investment had turned into $4500 by the end of that year. Her two year winning streak was enough to finally convince Doris that she and Wallace could invest some of their savings into Veronica’s next pick. She chose a small company that had created light-emitting diodes, or LED lights, the year before.
By the end of 1964, Veronica had more than $200,000 in the bank and another fifteen years of sure bets still in that same notebook.
By then, she had moved out on her own and bought a lovely Craftsman-style home in Falling Waters, the nicest neighborhood in Middle Falls. Veronica’s neighbors—doctors, lawyers, captains of local industry—weren’t at all sure what to make of “that single gal” who owned one of the prettiest homes in town. Especially since her parents weren’t wealthy, and she never seemed to go to work.
In July, 1965, Veronica invited Ruthie and her mom to come over for coffee. While Veronica’s financial situation had soared, Ruthie and Mrs. Miller’s had remained sadly constant—fighting for each month’s bills.
They had their tea on Veronica’s back deck, which looked over a man-made lake with a small waterfall built in. This was the falling waters that gave the community its name.
“Veronica, you’ve done so well for yourself, and I am so pleased. You’ve always been such a lovely girl.”
Veronica nodded to the house next door. “What do you think of that house?”
“Oh, goodness,” Vera Miller answered. “It’s a dream house, isn’t it? All the houses in this neighborhood are.”
“The people who lived there moved out a few months ago, but they left me a key. Do you two want to sneak over and see it?”
“Can we? It would be fun to see how the other half lives,” Vera said.
Ruthie didn’t say anything, but furrowed her brow, looking a question at Veronica, who pointedly did not notice it.
They went in the front door, into a lovely entryway with a high ceiling. There was a formal living room to the right, a music room, still furnished with a grand piano, to the left.
“They left the piano behind when they moved, because they didn’t want to move it all the way to Wisconsin with them.”
“I can’t imagine having so much money that you would leave a beautiful instrument like that behind,” Ruthie said.
“Do you still play?” Veronica asked.
Ruthie shook her head. “I haven’t played in years.”
“It comes back quick, though. Why don’t you sit down and play something?”
Ruthie took a little more persuading, but finally sat down at the sleek piano, raised the keyboard cover, and played Beethoven’s Fur Elise. The acoustics were perfect, and although she stumbled once or twice in the early passages, by the end, she was playing beautifully.
With happy tears in her eyes, Veronica quietly laid a legal-sized envelope on the polished surface of the piano. “I’ve done something for you both, and I don’t want to hear any objections. It’s already done.” She looked from Ruthie to Vera and back. “Please.”
Ruthie and Vera exchanged puzzled glances.
“What’s all this, then?” Vera asked.
“I bought this house a few weeks ago. I thought it would be a good investment. But, more than that, I wanted to do something for you two. That,” she said, pointing to the envelope, “is a copy of the de
ed. There’s a rider attached to it that gives the two of you a Life Estate. That means that for as long as you want, this house is yours to live in. No matter who owns it, even if I were to sell it tomorrow, you will never have to pay any rent, any taxes, anything. It’s yours to live in.”
Ruthie and Vera stood looking at her in stunned, uncomprehending silence.
Ruthie managed the first syllable. “What?”
“This house is yours. Let’s go down to Coleman’s and furnish it this afternoon. Of course, you can bring any of the furniture you want from your house, but I thought it would be nice to pick up some new things too.”
“I can’t imagine bringing our ratty old couch or kitchen table into this house,” Vera said quietly. “Why, Veronica? Why would you do this for us?”
“Because I wanted good neighbors. But, mostly,” Veronica said, enveloping them both in a hug, “because I love you.”
THREE MONTHS LATER, Doris and Wallace sold their home—the nicest home on the block—and also moved into Falling Waters, half a block down from Veronica and the Millers.
Veronica loved having everyone she cared the most about within walking distance. She had to admit to mixed emotions when she saw the For Sale sign go up in the front yard of her childhood home, though. She considered buying it as well, but that seemed too complicated, so she watched as another family bought it and moved in. In all her other lives, her parents had lived in that house until they died.
Still, it made her happy that her father was able to retire early, could golf all he wanted, and that they never had to worry about money again.
In January, 1966, Veronica made her annual stock pick, and discovered that although things were going along smoothly, she had never bothered to plan beyond this point. She sat in her huge open kitchen, drinking tea and watching the sparrows and Steller’s jays eating the seed she had spread around on the back deck for them.
All my plans were to get here. Young, healthy, wealthy, unencumbered. And now that I am, so what? I can afford to buy anything I want, and find there’s nothing I care about. I can make more and more money, but what does it matter, when I don’t care about what I have already? I guess I’ll keep buying the stocks. There’s no reason not to, but now I’ve got to figure out what I want to do. Maybe live a little.
With that in mind, and with a healthy budget at her fingertips, Veronica began planning a dream vacation for everyone to Hawaii. Wallace was reluctant to go, until Veronica told him about the eighteen hole golf course that would be right outside his front door at the Royal Lahaina in Kaanapali, Maui. Veronica tried to talk Barbara into coming along, as well, but she was engaged to Steve, who would become her husband for the fourth time in Veronica’s memory. Steve had a good job at the local power plant. He couldn’t get away for that long. Barbara didn’t want to leave him for a month, so she stayed behind.
In mid-March, Veronica, her parents, and Ruthie and Vera flew to Maui. It wasn’t as easy to fly to Maui in 1965 as it would be eventually. First they had to fly to San Francisco, change planes, and then fly to Honolulu. They changed planes again and got on a small island-hopper that finally landed in Kaanapali. It was fourteen hours after they had boarded the first plane of the day in Portland.
Stepping down from the commuter plane, Wallace put his hands in the small of his back, drew a deep breath of island air, and said, “You can bury me right here, because I am never going through an ordeal like that again.”
“You just want to stay here because of the golf course,” Doris said, holding his hand and leaning into him. Wallace did not disagree with her. After seeing pictures of the course a few weeks earlier, it had been all he had talked about.
Veronica looked at her mother, dressed in white shorts, a sleeveless top, and deck shoes, her hair, now showing the first signs of gray, falling loosely around her shoulders, and could hardly believe that this was the same buttoned-down woman she had known in every other life. She takes to island life well. It would be nice if we could live here, but she’ll never want to leave Barb and the grandbabies that will be soon to arrive.
Below the small airstrip, the Pacific rolled into shore in endless, gentle waves. A delicate breeze wafted over them, bringing with it the sweet smell of sugar cane growing in the fields behind them. I think I could stay here, too. Is that a good way to spend a life? Laying on a beach, watching the waves and the tourists go by, until it’s time to die and start all over again? There are certainly worse ways to spend a lifetime.
She turned and looked at her family, lugging their suitcases toward the wiki wiki that would carry them to the Royal Lahaina. Exhausted as they were, they were still smiling, laughing, and joking. She noticed that Wallace was carrying both his and Doris’s suitcases, leaving his golf clubs for a second trip. But there are better ways to spend that life, too. It would be nice to have someone to share everything with, but that’s never turned out well for me.
The smiling Hawaiian driver was waiting by the wiki wiki and hurried forward to carry as many suitcases as he could. “Welcome, weary travelers. You have spent many hours cooped up in a flying tin can. But now, leave all your worries behind. Come in, sit down and enjoy the natural island air conditioning as I drive you to the Royal Lahaina.”
A few minutes later, when they pulled up to the front lobby of the resort, the driver stood up and said, “Go get checked in. I’ll take care of your bags, and they’ll be delivered straight to your room. You are our honored guests now. My name is Mike. If you need anything while you are here, ask anyone for me. They all know I am the one who can find anything.”
The check-in at the front desk was smooth and within minutes, they were all gathered on Veronica’s lanai on the second floor. The resort had put chilled champagne and fresh fruit out for them to enjoy while they reveled in their first Hawaiian sunset.
As the sun first touched the horizon behind the island of Lanai, Wallace lifted his glass and said, “A toast, to Ronnie. None of us would be here, none of us would ever have seen this, if not for her.”
Chapter Forty-Two
The next day, the younger generation—Veronica and Ruthie—rented snorkeling gear and asked for a lift to the nearest beach. The older ladies elected to explore what the Royal Lahaina Resort had to offer, which was quite a lot. Wallace quite happily snuck off for his first 18 holes of golf.
At the small hidden beach that the Royal Lahaina driver had dropped them off at, Veronica and Ruthie dropped their blankets and cover-ups. They carried their snorkeling equipment to the edge of the clear blue water.
“Any idea how to do this?” Veronica asked?
“Absolutely none. Fun, huh?” Ruthie sat down in the shallows to put her fins on. While she put the first fin on, her mask floated away on a wave. As she retrieved that, her second flipper floated out of reach. This comedy of errors went on for some time, but eventually, she had her mask, snorkel, and fins on the appropriate appendages.
Veronica took note of her struggle and sat on the hot sand to put her equipment on. Once outfitted, she stood up and attempted to walk into the water, but found that the long fins made that impossible. A few feet away, a suntanned young man with blue eyes and a brilliant smile said, “That works better if you walk backwards in your fins.” He stood up in his own and demonstrated.
“Ah, right. You can tell we’re professional snorkelers, can’t you?”
“Never had any doubt,” the man said, knifing into the water and swimming rapidly away.
Veronica turned to Ruthie and mouthed, “Oh, my, God.”
Ruthie, eyes wide, nodded in agreement.
Veronica crab-walked into the water until it was up around her knees, then sat down, rather ungracefully. She laughed and looked around for Ruthie, but she was gone.
Neither of them had ever been athletic, but Ruthie had always been the most awkward and unsure of herself. Until, that is, she put on flippers, a mask, and a snorkel tube. Then, Ruthie the ugly duckling bloomed into a swan. She swam gracefully on top of th
e water, breathing through her tube, until she saw something interesting below her. She dove down, stayed under a long time and slowly resurfaced, instinctively blowing the water out of her tube. She swam on without ever taking her head out of the water.
Veronica sat in the shallow water for a few minutes, watching her, then attempted to do the same. The first time she dove down to look at a shell, she surfaced and blew just like she’d seen Ruthie do. She didn’t clear all the water, though, so when she breathed in, she swallowed several ounces of the warm Pacific Ocean. She ripped her mask and snorkel tube off and began coughing and spitting. She tried it two more times, with similar results, then headed for the shore.
Guess a career as a professional snorkeler is not in the cards after all.
Veronica spread her towel out, and flung her snorkel equipment down beside it. I think I’d rather sit here and work on my tan anyway. She dug through her beach bag, looking for her suntan lotion and discovered she had left it back in the room. Oh well, I’ll keep turning over. It’s kind of cloudy out, anyway.
She slipped on her oversize sunglasses, laid back on the towel and promptly fell asleep.
She was awakened an undetermined time later by Ruthie, rubbing her hair and sprinkling water all over her. “Hey, lobster-girl, you better roll over. Or, put your cover up back on. Or, get to a hospital.” Ruthie bent over and peered closely at Veronica. “Oh, my God, look at you!” Ruthie reached out to touch her arm, but Veronica pulled away.
“How long were you out there?”
“I don’t know. I completely lost track of everything, but it was a long time. It was the most amazing experience of my life. I saw a stick lying on the bottom, and I wondered what a stick was doing down there, so I dove down to it. When I was reaching down to pick it up, it swam away.” Ruthie shuddered a little at the memory. “It was an eel! But still. So, so cool.”
“I haven’t seen you this excited since Billy Hammonds kissed you in fourth grade,” Veronica said as she looked at her arms and winced.
