Confederate Gold and Silver

by Peter F. Warren

  At first, Paul thought he had heard all of what Steve had owned, but then he learned he was partners with three of his friends in a good size marina down on the southern tip of the Inlet. He also learned Steve and his partners were the owners of The Links at Pawleys Island, one of the premier golf clubs along the Grand Strand. “We got the marina up and running about twenty-four years ago. After a few years of giving it a go, we finally started making some money and we decided we needed a new challenge so we formed a partnership called Bogey Free. We soon built a golf course which has become one of the most challenging courses around. Without a doubt, it certainly is one of the most scenic courses along the Grand Strand. That’s doing pretty well for us also, despite the many other places folks have to play golf down here. But we treat our golfers well, that’s why they keep coming back.”

  Steve had not planned on telling Paul about all of his real estate holdings, but when Kathy had stopped to check on their drinks she had felt free to fill in a few of the missing pieces. It was only because of her comments that he reluctantly spoke about the golf course and marina he owned. As he did, he shot her a disapproving glance. Seeing the look he gave her, Kathy realized she had crossed over into an area she probably should not have spoken about. She quickly disappeared out of sight for several minutes into the bar’s nearby kitchen.

  Paul was now somewhat taken back by who he was sitting with. He was just not having a drink with just some retiree from New Jersey, but rather it was with an obviously wealthy descendant of one of the first settlers of the area. He had severely underestimated who Steve really was.

  “I’m impressed,” Paul said after polishing off the rest of his cold beer. He then told Steve about briefly visiting the marina on one of his early house hunting trips, seeing the size of the marina and the volume of business it did on the weekend day he was there. He further described how amazed he had been at the number of boaters who had been buying gas, beer, snacks, and other supplies at the marina’s store. “I knew someone had to be making some money down there. That’s a busy little place you have during the boating season. You must be doing well!” He also told Steve he had been amazed during his visit at the many different sizes of boats he had seen docked at the marina. The watercraft had ranged from jet skis, small personal fishing and pleasure boats, to the larger and more impressive yachts which travelled up and down the east coast during warm weather.

  “You are involved with two of the things in life I have an interest in. I have always dreamed of owning a pontoon boat, but I’m afraid that’s going to remain a dream for a few more years. I also love playing golf. I hope to start playing more than I have had the chance to do over the past few summers back home. What a life you must be leading, I’m envious!”

  They spent the new few minutes talking more about the marina’s operation and about the highly respected golf course that Steve was the majority owner of. As they talked, Paul told Steve about his recent move to Murrells Inlet and about his career as a state trooper.

  As they sat talking, Steve motioned to Kathy to come over to where they sat at the bar. She had finally felt it was safe to come out of her hiding spot in the kitchen. As she did, Steve interrupted his conversation with Paul by asking her to bring him his briefcase. “I left it on the floor in my office next to the filing cabinet. Don’t bother trying to open it; I locked it when I left last night. I know you thieves like to steal my stuff when I’m not paying attention.” Kathy shot him a smirk when she turned to fetch his briefcase. The smirk caused Steve to quickly chuckle at his own joke as she walked away. As Paul and Steve resumed talking, their talk soon turned to other topics of conversation. They were topics any two strangers might have with each other after just meeting for the first time as they sat at a bar enjoying their drinks.

  After being handed his briefcase, and after putting pen to paper, Steve handed Paul two pieces of paper. “Besides today’s drinks, as another sign of my appreciation for your help this afternoon, here is a gift certificate for you and your wife to have dinner on me here at the restaurant. I’m sure she will enjoy it as the food is quite good. We have a couple of the area’s best chefs working for us. Treat her to a nice night out, it’s all on me. This other piece of paper has Willie Tegeler’s name and cell phone number on it. Willie is the golf pro at The Links. I’ll call him in the morning to let him know you have a summer’s worth of free golf coming. That’s my welcoming present to you for moving to Murrells Inlet. And, if you want, tell Willie you are looking for a part-time job at the course, you know a few hours a week, and I’ll make sure he finds something for you to do. Keep the job and you will have free golf as one of the perks. It won’t pay much, but the free golf is worth it, at least that’s what I’ve been told. Your new neighbors will love being able to play the course with you at a discounted rate. You will soon be the hero of your neighborhood!”

  Paul did not know what to say at first so he said nothing, struggling to find the right words for a few moments. He had only known one other person in his life who had been as generous to him, but that had come from a long time friend, not from a total stranger. He tried to protest that this was far too much for just changing a tire for someone in need, but Steve would hear none of it. “I’m an old man with tons of money. You helped me out when no one else did and I have always respected people who have gone out of their way to help others. From what you have told me about your past career, I doubt too many people went out of their way to show you their appreciation, even if you were just doing your job. So let’s just call these tokens of my appreciation and paybacks for all that you have done for others over all of those years. How’s that sound?”

  Again, weakly perhaps because he was still taken back by Steve’s generosity, Paul attempted to decline the gifts he had been given, but Steve quickly cut him off, waving his hand at the notion of his new friend not accepting his thanks. “When I give something to someone, I expect them to accept it. Give it back and we aren’t friends any longer.” He knew Steve was joking, at least he hoped he was, so he placed the papers on the bar and simply thanked him the best he could.

  “Paul, one more thing, let me have your cell phone number. I want my foreman, Chubby, that’s what we all call him, to call you in the morning. He might be able to help you with your dream of owning a pontoon boat. It’s nothing special mind you, but I have one I want to sell. Chubby will explain it to you when he calls you. Now, seeing as we finally have business out of the way, how about another beer?”

  Paul had wanted to leave so he could get home to tell Donna about the events of the afternoon, but realizing he could not say no to Steve after what he had just been given by him he agreed to have another beer. “How about I pay for the drinks? How’s that sound?”

  Steve couldn’t help but laugh, as did Kathy who was standing nearby pouring Paul’s second beer. “Pretty ridiculous, don’t you think? I own the place so why should you have to buy a drink for the owner? I appreciate the thought, but the drinks are on me. I think I can afford it.”

  It had been a pretty foolish statement to make and Paul quickly admitted it had not made much sense as soon as he said it, but it had been too late to take back. “Well, perhaps another time then and perhaps at another place.”

  “Sounds like a plan. Let’s make sure it happens.”

  Raising his second mug of Coors Light, he thanked Steve for the beer and for his other generous gifts. After a few more minutes of continued small talk between them, they finished off their drinks. Standing up from his bar stool, Paul put a ten dollar bill down on the bar for Kathy’s tip and again thanked Steve for his generosity, assuring him they would get together again soon. Walking outside, Paul was quickly greeted by the high humidity brought on by the afternoon thunderstorm. Making the short walk to his car, he managed to avoid the large puddles of water still remaining in the parking lot. Driving home he could not help but smile at the good fortune he had encountered that af
ternoon. “Thank goodness for thunderstorms and flat tires.”

  What he could not possibly realize was what the events of the afternoon would soon lead him to. The phone call he would receive from Chubby would start to make it all come together.

  ******

  Donna had just gotten home from her job interview and was getting some groceries out of her car when Paul pulled into the driveway. “How on earth did your clothes get so wet?” She asked him as he got out of his car. Closing his car door, Paul was still smiling over his good fortune.

  “OK, what’s so funny? I see the smirk you’re wearing.”

  “Not a hello or a ‘Hi Honey’? Just a comment about my wet clothes, is that all you have to say?” Paul knew Donna’s question had been the obvious one for her to ask as his clothes were still wet despite sitting at the bar with Steve for a couple of hours, but he also had to tease her as well.

  “My clothes got wet when I was being interviewed for my new job.” His statement made absolutely no sense to her as she had no idea what he had gotten himself into during her absence that afternoon.

  Soon Paul told her about the events of the afternoon as he stripped out of his wet clothes inside their now closed garage. Donna listened as he started telling her about his afternoon, but before he had gone too far she made sure he was taking off all of his wet clothes. She wasn’t about to let her new carpet get stained by his dirty wet clothes. As he got deeper into the events of the afternoon, Donna realized something special had happened. She then felt foolish about making an issue over his wet clothes. “Hey, it’s no big deal. I was going to take them off anyhow.”

  She stood silently as Paul finished telling her about meeting Steve and about his generosity in thanking him for being a Good Samaritan. Standing there open mouthed, she didn’t know what to say about his new good fortune. “Honey, you can close your mouth now,” an almost naked Paul told her.

  “Oh, yeah, and by the way, tomorrow some guy named Chubby is going to call me about a pontoon boat Steve wants to get rid of.”

  “He wants to give you a boat as well? Just for fixing a flat tire?”

  “Sounds something like that. I don’t think he’s going to give it to me, but maybe there is a deal or something we can work out. I guess I’ll just have to wait and see.” Deep down Paul hoped his good luck would continue.

  After hearing about the boat, and while pleased to hear what he had been up to, Donna’s shoulders slumped as he finished talking. “I thought I had a good afternoon as I got a new job which pays good money, but you won, you had a great afternoon.” Paul could not help but smile at her as he knew she was amazed at what had happened for both of them that afternoon.

  Later over dinner, and after the excitement of his day had been talked about, Donna told Paul about the interview she had gone through and of the job offer she had received. It was not nearly as exciting as the news he had brought home, but for her she knew having a new job would be a great way to help her get settled in her new life in Murrells Inlet. Her new job would keep her busy. It would also keep her from missing her boys more than she already was.

  ******

  It was late the next morning when Paul received the phone call he was expecting from Chubby. They spoke for several minutes and then agreed to meet at 2 pm at the marina. “Sounds great, I look forward to seeing you.” After hanging up the phone, Paul realized he had a new problem to deal with since moving south. He realized it as soon as he listened to Chubby talk to him on the phone. While he had understood most of what Chubby had told him over the phone, Paul realized he would be meeting many people, folks like Chubby, who spoke with that distinctive Southern drawl he found so hard to understand at times. “I’m going to have to train these Northern ears to a whole new way of listening.” It was a challenge he had waited for years to do.

  Chubby was waiting outside by the marina’s main office when Paul pulled into the parking lot. It was not a paved lot, but one which was a combination of dirt, beach sand, and broken oyster shells that car and truck tires had ground up into small pieces over the years. Pulling into the lot, Paul could hear the shells crunching even more under his tires.

  Even before they introduced themselves to each other, Chubby started ragging on Paul. “The old man told me about the help you gave him yesterday when he got the flat tire. Got to admit that was a right neighborly thing for y’all to do, especially for you, you know being a Yankee and all.”

  Paul just smiled as he shook Chubby’s hand.

  “Hey, partner, I’m just having some fun with y’all. But that was a right fine thing you did for Steve. He’s a good man. I’ll tell ya, he will never forget what you did for him. He’s like that, just remembers everything.”

  As they started walking down the wooden walkway to the marina’s main set of docks, Paul now saw he had pictured Chubby pretty well. It was easy to see how he had been christened with his nickname. Chubby was a friendly enough man of about thirty-five years of age and was someone who likely carried close to three hundred pounds on his six foot plus frame. He was a bear of a man in size. His denim blue bib overalls, with one strap unbuttoned, were covered with both work and food stains in several spots. They likely had been worn for several days since they were last washed Paul thought as he followed him down the walkway. With a nickname of Chubby, and with the clothes he was wearing, he was just as Paul had pictured him. He took an immediate liking to him.

  Chubby led Paul to a section of the marina where several small white-colored wooden rowboats bobbed in the Inlet’s gentle tide. They were tied up along one of the dock’s wooden walkways. From the looks of the rowboats, they were obviously ones used by boat owners when they needed to ferry supplies out to their larger boats, ones moored off the marina’s main docks. Nearby, behind one of the outbuildings the marina owned, various supplies were piled up. They were supplies needed to keep a busy marina in operation.

  Stopping for a moment as they reached the end of the first wooden walkway, Paul saw the walkway was one of many that had been firmly secured with long cables to several large concrete blocks that sat at the edge of the parking lot. He knew this had been done so they did not float away during the severe storms which occasionally hit the South Carolina coast. He then followed Chubby as they walked down another walkway which was connected to a series of several smaller wooden docks. Each of these docks and walkways had been bolted to one another in a way so they could each rise and fall with the passing tide. The docks and walkways floated on large pieces of Styrofoam and on large blue plastic barrels. The gentle low tide made it easy for them to walk on the docks without having to use the handrails.

  Looking back over his left shoulder, Paul could see they had walked almost two hundred feet out from shore. From where he was on the dock, he saw the adjoining set of docks held the marina’s gas pumps. Over the top of the pumps was a faded red and blue wooden sign which read ‘Alcott’s Marina, Murrells Inlet, South Carolina’. The lettering had been neatly stenciled some time in the past as the large white lettering was now starting to fade. Paul smiled when he saw his new friend’s last name displayed on the sign.

  “Well, there she is. Not much to look at, but she still has some life in her. What do ya think?”

  Paul turned to see Chubby pointing at the old pontoon boat sitting moored at the end of the walkway. On both sides of the boat hung smaller wooden versions of the sign he had seen displayed over the gas pumps. The pontoon boat was one the marina’s employees used for the operational needs of the marina. From that use it was easy to tell the boat had not been cared for as well as it would have been if it had been privately owned.

  Paul stepped onto the last section of dock before climbing onto the boat. Chubby, whose real name was Earl Jensen, chose to remain on the dock. It was obvious Chubby’s years of feasting on far too many of the Inlet’s delicacies, both seafood and cold beer, prevented him from doing an
ything too strenuous. Even the short walk down the several sections of walkways had winded him significantly.

  Chubby told Paul the boat had seen a variety of use since the marina had purchased it about seven years ago, but described how it had been primarily used to ferry boat owners to and from their boats when the marina’s row boats were not practical to use. Looking around and not seeing anyone nearby, Chubby told him of another way the boat had been used. “I have to tell you I have also used it on more than a few occasions to satisfy the personal needs of many female tourists after they have visited our restaurant or one of the other nearby bars. The boat has come in quite handy after they have had too much to drink. You know what I’m talkin’ about, right?”

  Not wanting to hear anymore about Chubby’s alleged romantic escapades, and also wanting to quickly erase the ugly mental picture he now had in his head of a naked Chubby frolicking on the boat with an inebriated female, Paul put a quick end to this part of the conversation. “I got the picture, I got it!” The brief mental picture of one of these escapades lingered far too long in his mind and he quickly sought to erase it.

  Examining the boat, Paul could see it was a twenty-two foot Sylvan Signature series pontoon boat. The boat’s original burgundy color was now faded for the most part by the constant exposure to the sun and salt air. His first impression was it needed some work, but he could tell the boat did have some life left in her. It needed some cosmetic work done to it, along with a few minor repairs, and then a real good cleaning before it would be something to have some pride in. The boat had a minor dent in the outside edge of the left transom, but it was not large enough to repair at this time. He saw the boat’s original carpeting had been replaced with a more durable dark green Astroturf style of carpet which was now both faded and in need of replacing. Paul could not help but think the boat’s carpeting reminded him of the putting surfaces at several of the Mini-Golf venues his family had waged friendly competitions at during their summer vacations in Myrtle Beach. He also could not help but wonder if this was the same carpeting Chubby and his ‘dates’ had used during their romantic one night stands. At least he hoped it was not the same one. “One thing for sure, the carpeting has to go,” Paul thought to himself.